Turns out I am a cold blooded, vicious killer......

The first week of being 50 has high-lighted an odd but notable new awareness of my ruthless side.  Of course I've got one, at least one.  Some need to be curbed and some need to be encouraged.  One, though, has been honed to an actual skill.  That's right, I said it.  

Life has a way of wearing you down.  It smoothes the edges of your nerves, especially if you are a mother, or spend much time with adults who are *not* adults.  Life numbs you to many things in life that by the time you are 50, you don't even think twice about anymore.  

"Oh, sweetie!  It's okay if you missed the potty!  I will just clean that right up.  It happens to all of us.  You still did good"............"Oh, you 'forgot' your homework for the 4th time this week and want me to just run home and bring it to you?  All right, but this is the last time!"..............."You punched another hole in the wall?????!!!!!  Well.  You know how to fix it."............."Yes, that is a dent in my fender.  Fix it?  Why????"...........

I am seriously telling you to take heart.  By the time you get to 50, I am promising you that you will take all of the above examples, and countless others, with a grain of salt but no second thoughts.  It's very relaxing.

But some things you will not become numb to.  Some things will make you dig in your heels, stiffen your spine, grab a weapon and literally kill things.  Living things.  You will fight to the end, some things, and you will still lose, but you will. not. care.  The battle simply must be fought.

The flies are thick, and I realized the other day that I have turned into a cold blooded, vicious killer.

I always thought I could be one but now I know for sure that I not only *can*.  I *am*.

Like a professional cold blooded, vicious killer, I go on killing "patrols".  At least 3 every day.  Morning, noon, and night, I grab the fly swatter and stalk my prey down like the maggots they are.  I stalk sunny places like window sills and splashes of sunlight on floors.  One by one I kill them.  I swear, some of them come back to life.  I can remember a time when if there was a fly in the house it was just one or two, and I would grab a tissue to clean up their dead bodies and deposit them in the trash.  Then I would go on with my life and think of such nastiness no more.  THOSE DAYS ARE BEHIND ME NOW.  I did not watch the clock or go on "killing patrols".  Now I do.  I guess that's part of being old, or grown up, or something.  I am just reporting the facts here, I still do not know any secrets of the universe.

I don't know if it's the cows or the beautiful but stinking tree next to the house that showered us recently with so many lovely petals, but the flies are everywhere, all the time.

Lately all I have grabbed is the fly swatter, no tissues, delivering death blows, like a professional cold blooded, vicious killer; without remorse.   Then--(and this is probably the point of admitting you need help, for any cold blooded vicious killer, not that I need any help)---just letting their bodies lay where they fall. 

 I give them no respect.  I think no more of their dead bodies than dust in the wind.  Their dead bodies are nothing to me.  NOTHING.  I have a machine to suck up the carnage and I know how to use it.  I am the proud owner of a shop vac also.  I got this. Just the last part of the job for a cold blooded vicious killer like myself.

***throws back head, throws arms to the sky, and laughs like James Earl Jones*** 

Like any professional, cold blooded, vicious killer,  later there will be a cleanup patrol, destroying all evidence. 

Like a professional, cold blooded, vicious killer, after I have chased down and killed all my prey, delivering death blows right and left, I just grab the vacuum and suck them up.  There are quite a lot, and, horror of horrors(!), some are not completely dead.  You can tell when they sense the snout of the great vacuum-to-the-sky getting close.  They twitch, their disgusting little legs move.  I sneer at the quivering little blobs.  Perhaps I just stunned them, or broke a wing or something.  The little vermin still live.  So I SMASH them once more, really good.  Their guts smoosh all out and leave disgusting marks on my refrigerator and all I feel is powerful and happy that I have bleach.  

And I am a cold blooded, vicious killer.  Life has turned me that way.  I have no remorse.  I even take pride in my work.  Knowing that this job will not end any time soon does not discourage me.  It's just what I do.

Just one more facet to 50.  Thought you should know.

**also my cousin says that I can go to the feed store and get an automatic fly killer spray thing that automatically squirts like those automatic kind and I will not see a live fly again in my house.  Sounds like a fairy tale, doesn't it?  I am going to explore this possibility.  You may want to explore that possibility yourself, before you end up a cold blooded, vicious killer like myself.  But that may be a required standard that you have to pass before you die.  I feel better for it, at any rate.   Just sayin.

Reflections on 50.........

I think back on the last year and all the changes it has brought.  We moved, new jobs, new friends, new vehicles.

The boys have 1 more year of high school, prom is coming up, they have become mechanics, or at least serious apprentices, and they walk more like men than boys now.

I am a grandmother for real now.

Children are such handy gauges for us to measure life with, and I have recently found myself in long conversations with all of my children, (both real and acquired) that started with "Remember when......." and went on and on.

I used to feel I was drowning in children when my house was full of them and they spilled over into the yard and trailed up the street.

Life comes in waves, and eventually you realize you are the beach.

This beach is watching another wave on the horizon, there are more children in it, among other things that I cannot make out for certain, but I can't wait for those days of love, simplicity and noise to pound on me again.  The things they say, the things they remember, the things they will not listen to and have to learn anyway.

I think this last year has been a time for me to heal in ways I did not know that I needed to.  Life has slowed down and I have had time to be present in the last years that I will have "children" at home.

During this time my older children have become fully grown adults, and are now able to marvel that "19 years ago......." and fill in the blank with what seems like just a few months ago.

I can't tell you how great this has been, to be present as they got to this place!

This tree, next to my new house, is I believe a grandfather to the nicely shaped but sickeningly scented Bradford Pears that are everywhere now.  It doesn't have the pretty shape, and I think has much deeper roots, but the blooms are the same.  The berries in the fall are different.  We have been wondering what kind of tree it is and almost cut it down.

It has taken us this long to figure it out.

It has been glorious to look at and horrible to smell the past few weeks.

Flies buzz like crazy in this tree during blooming.

It's kind of scary when you sit and listen to them.

I didn't know why we let it live until last week.

She's old.  She still looks great but smells terrible.  But that's the way nature designed her.

Last week, with all the rain and wind, she started losing her petals.

Everywhere we went, we had petals blowing around, landing on us like confetti.

Everywhere we turned, our paths were strewn with petals.

I felt kind of like a bride, but knowing all the things brides still have yet to know, and I laughed out loud.

The petals did not smell bad, just looked pretty.

And I thought it a charming addition, despite the buzzing of the flies.

That is how charming I found it.

And I thought that I was definitely following a path, even if I did not know where it would lead, and that it was good and right.

We have been confetti'd, every way we turn.

It's made for a magical time.  One day it's cold and rainy, we can hear the rain beating down on the roof as we watch the fire.

White stuff in your hair?  NOT dandruff!!  Look closely and you will see petals in the air.

The next day it's warm and sunny, you open the door to go out and white petals are cascading down and blowing around in little eddies on the wind.  They land in your hair, brush against your eyelids, sit on your shoulders, get stuck in your hair, and have lined the path you are about to embark on.

No matter which way you go.

It occurs to me that which path you take matters naught; it is the going that matters.

I have the strong feeling all paths lead to the same place in the end.

More leaves than petals this week.

That tree is going to live.

As must I.

Not to mention an entire new generation of little girls (so far) that have need of magical petal floating in the air and lining their paths. No matter which one they take.

I think I may have been appointed as one of the ladies that points these things out, and sets up tea parties on the lawn.

With umbrellas, and matching rubber rain boots.

This lady may have gray hair, and a long braid.  

This is about all that I need to decide on in the near future.

A slightly better shot of the floating petals.

Everywhere you go, everything has been festooned with petals.

The bulbs are blooming gloriously.

I need to decide what to put in that hanging, petaled, pot.

But not today.  There is no hurry.

White has been added to all the colors, in polka dot shapes

I think it is healing all of us to be here.  We have different family closer, now, and can just run into them, which we are getting used to.

And while we have been very busy, we haven't been tied to rigid schedules.

This has allowed room for trying new things without the stress of whether these things will work out or not.

In a fit of hopefullness, I threw an onion and some garlic that had sprouted in my refrigerator in pots this week and set them outside.

Well, hello onions!

And just look what happened!

I didn't even try.

Sometimes things just work out.

No one knows why, they just do.

Tulips on deck!

The tulips are getting dressed for the show they will put on very soon, and just like at the other house, I have a white lilac in front and a purple lilac in back.  This may sound crazy to you, but those were 2 of the things I loved most about that house, and the symmetry here is comforting and feels right to me.
One more day of sunshine and BAM!  We are going to have lilacs!!
I had to give up a lot, but none the most important things to me have been lost.  What I have gotten in return is so vital and precious to me that I cannot not put it into words and pictures do not do it justice.

The other morning was so nice I just had to run down the road and be by the water.  Water runs freely though out the land of Lindy and white feathers, cascading, trickling, sometimes roaring, but always, always present and moving, the sun shining off the smallest of ripples.  The flowers were blooming, the grass was so green, and there just comes a certain day, I remember from when I was small, that you are compelled to get out and "smell the creek".

"He maketh me lie down in green pastures..........

It's not an elegant phrase, but it's the bottom line way I thought of it as a child, at my most basic and honest self.
In those days, part of almost every day was spent at a creek.  With rock bottoms, endless jewels to be discovered and sorted.  Tadpoles to be watched and sometimes caught.  Crawdad's to have sword fights with once you discovered their hole.  Small fish nibbling on your toes, turtles sunning themselves in the heat of the sun, and the only lotion slathered on us was sun "tan", not sun "block".

He leadeth me beside the still waters......

You see it, you hear it, you feel it, you smell it.
It surrounds you, in every way, and everywhere you look, everything is just right with the world.
There's no other way to put it.  There are no clocks here, the sun and the moon keep the time.
Time goes slowly, and you breathe easy.

I have spent years of my life sitting on a beach just like this.  I am so blessed.

As I turn 50, I find myself recognizing that most basic and honest self more and more often.

It's been a long time since I have seen her.

The person I was long before I became an adult or parent.  My hair is back to what it was before I spent countless hours and dollars to make it look like something it, in fact, was not.

The things that are most important to me cannot be bought with money.

Words get in the way of instinctive understanding.  Can you remember a time when  your thoughts were not formed in words in your head, let alone complete sentences?

He restoreth my soul........

If you can't, you should go back to the places where you were very young.

Or maybe you have to get to be a certain age before you will remember that part.

Life asks a lot of us, at different times, and in different ways.

But it's always in flux, whether you realize it or not.

Eventually, your children grow and have lives of their own.

You love them more than ever, and they bring you joy in ways you never expected.

But now you get your solitude back. Time to dream, time to consider, time to plan, again.

Time to think, or work, or just "be", without interruption or distraction.

I think this is part of the design.

Sunlight on just one branch of a huge and beautiful bush.  See what I did there??

Life is always taken one day at a time, whatever phase we are in.

But I have reached the age where I watch calmly for what comes next and take it in stride.

Gone are the days where I ran around, anxious to please, fearful of disapproval, worried about how it would all turn out.

Been there, done that.  It's over.  It was fun but it's over.

The next phase of my life will be much calmer and more joyful.

Whatever it is.  I'm going to just appreciate whatever it is.

It's a surprise!

I'm just going to enjoy every day and watch it all unfold, like the grass and the bulbs and the babies.

Everything has it's own path, design, and journey.

I already know it will turn out.

It always does.

A Day of Chores............

Everything outside is jumping, and that means lawn mowing time is upon us.

Last week my dad came over to change the oil in the lawn mower and sharpen the blades.  It seemed like a pretty easy task.  He showed up in the morning, when the twins were at school, and assured me that he needed no help.

He did not need help, but I almost had a nervous breakdown watching him wench up the mower with chains over the rafters of the garage.  Everything went smoothly except for me having visions of it falling on him and him lying helpless on the floor, slowly dying while I run around trying to decide what to do and who to call.

None of that happened.  He worked on the mower and I painted woodwork for trim on the back porch, where I could hear him if he should call for help.  He didn't call.

What he did do, once he got the mower all wenched up in the garage, was take a walk outside to the front of the house.

You have no doubt heard me talk about how my mother cleaned house.  Her method was to decide to clean something, say the buffet.  She would drag everything out of all the drawers, dust the top, and then spend about 4 hours going through everything in the drawers and "organizing".  After 4 hours, she would suddenly remember what time it was and shove everything back into the drawers.  For next time.  Now, she could have just dusted the top.  In about 2 minutes, but that was not her method.

I have discovered that I do not just get this kind of method from 1 side of my genealogical tree.  Although at least my dad finishes what he starts.

Even if it takes all day.

Once in front of the house, he declared it to be a good day to take out the shrubs in the front of the house.  We all hate these shrubs, including the neighbors.  Luckily for us, the neighbors, my aunt that I never had, Janine, and her husband Jack, have the cutest little red tractor, and they had it out this day. 

Shrubs: begone!

Jack was hailed, he reported for duty forthwith, chains were rounded up and the shrubs were tackled in a death grip.

It's a good day to die, shrubs.

Although the pictures do not show it, I helped my dad plunge into dead leaves, wasp nests, and possible snake lairs to attach the chains.  Sometimes 2 chains were needed, and multiple scratches were acquired by both of us, but eventually those shrubs came out.

Goodbye, cruel world.

By the time we were half-way done, I noticed that it was really hot outside and remembered that I think I forgot to put on deodorant that day.  My father assured me this would only give the snakes more time to get out of the way.  We did not see any snakes, but we did spend many hours on the look out.  I do not mind if I see them first, however, my father does a dance that few have seen and that defies actual description when he spies a snake.

I worried about him throwing his back out, and to be honest, how many times he could actually keep getting up and down in a day.  I didn't know about him, but it was about to kill me, and I'm younger.  Just saying.

Half-way there.  Keep on trucking.

We plugged along with the shrubs coming out pretty easy, once we got them hooked up.  The hooking up was the hard part.

Once out, it was around the back to the brush pile.  We had plenty of limbs but these shrubs would make good fire starter material once they dried out.

Note to self: buy hot dogs and buns.

There is a very big bonfire in our near future.  Yes, that is my back yard, and we need to mow it.  There is quite a large area under lots of limbs and now shrubs that we cannot at this moment get to, but it will be all burned off within a few weeks.   A fresh start.  Also, strangely, the dogs have dug a hole big enough to plant a small tree in the back yard.  I am at a loss as to why they stuck with this particular hole, because they have never showed such dedication before.  But this is big.  I think a Willow would be just perfect, but them again maybe just a large bush........well, I don't have to decide right now.  But soon.  My list is getting longer and it's all still in my head.  I haven't even written it down yet.....

All gone.

By the time the twins came home from school, the shrubs were out, the mower was still wenched to the rafter in the garage, and my dad decided it would be a great time to run the old water heater to the metal recycling center.  To get that out of the way.  Into town they went. 

I stood there, observing the bare but messy ground, and my mind was filled with what to put in there.  Four O'Clock's for sure, more bulbs, perhaps a trellis and something to climb up it.  Vegetables?  I have those tubs my brother cut up for me......This faces East, blah, blah, blah.......I don't have time for this!  This entire day has been spent and I haven't really done any of my work!  Best to just walk away and see what happens.  I get it from both my parents.  It's the way God made me............enough of this, I was wasting time.

I looked at the clock.  It was 4 pm.  I started to warm something up because I had not eaten that entire day, and I was pretty sure my dad hadn't either.  I also needed to think about supper.  

I warmed up chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes.  My dad showed back up and took in to sharpening blades.  I worried about him cutting himself and bleeding to death, (doesn't he take a blood thinner?) and made him eat something. Yes, made him.  When I asked him if he was hungry he said yes, but he wasn't going to eat because Geri was making supper.  Well, of COURSE she was!  It was 4:30 in the afternoon by now!  I used my "tone" to point out that he hadn't eaten all day and it was ready, so he agreed to a small bowl of noodles.  And appetizer, if you will.  The boys never had come back and at this point I really didn't care if they ever did.  I was exhausted and too tired to really make supper.

Eventually, about 6 hours after the initial job was started, all the jobs were finished.  I was so happy!  I collapsed on the back porch and what did I see but Janine and Jack over there---get this----cleaning out the gutters on their house.  OCH!  I hadn't even considered that, and hope to our sweet Lord that my father hasn't either.  I had to marvel at their strength, not to mention wonder where it came from.  I thanked God again for such wonderful neighbors.  This led to me wondering if my dad would even be able to get out of bed the next day.  I chuckled, remembering how he kept looking at me when I would offer to help or express concern over his ability to lay on concrete multiple times in one day.  I doubted he would be back tomorrow.

In the end the boys did come home, I did feed them.....something,  I can't even remember what, all the jobs were finished, and nobody got hurt.  I told myself I was just obsessing, or being pessimistic, but the voice in my head just said "We'll see".  

In a cryptic tone.

That voice is beginning to get on my last nerve.