Farm to Table Dinner
GREENUP – Helping provide entertainment at the Farm to Table dinner on Saturday, July 17, were Anne Stephens and friends.
Raceland Legion's Family Day Fun
RACELAND – Brian Glass spins cotton candy at The Raceland Legion on Family Day, Saturday, July 3.
Hey Y'all!
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There are times in life that fill you with wonder. As in, "Wonder if I have any milk?" or "Wonder if I can put off the lawn a few more days?" to the most pressing ones like "Wonder if I remembered to pay the electric bill?" or "Wonder if I remembered to write down that last check?"
My world is so often full of wonder. Time was when my mind was like a steel trap, capturing everything and holding tight. Now it's more like a sink trap with one of those push-in drain stoppers that doesn't hold quite right.
The problem, I believe, is that I have reached the point in my life where I've learned so much that my brain is running out of room to store things. I picture it much like that closet in the unused bedroom, the one where things get stored that you should probably get rid of but may need someday.
I'm terrible about that. I need one, just one, wooden shim but all I could find were packages of 10. So I bought a package and instead of passing the nine remaining ones on, I have kept them.
Turns out that I actually needed two. The second one came into play when I needed something to put my window air conditioner at the right angle to keep the condensation, or whatever that water is, from running down on my inside wall.
The other eight languish on a shelf in the upstairs hall, forlorn bur not lonely since they have each other. I am not surprised that no one has called to ask if I have a shim I'm not using. I wish they would because that would be eight thing out of my house.
After having to sort out and dispose of my mother's earthly belongings, I decided my children would not have to take on such an onerous task when I went to the great beyond.
That's where this over-full mind thing comes into play. I look at some objects and wonder why I have them. Surely there was a reason for me to purchase eight pretty pulls that don't line up with the holes in my kitchen cabinet doors. Maybe I was going to drill new holes, although that doesn't sound like me at all. The quickest way to get help from my children is to casually mention I'm about to use a power tool. They drop everything and run to prevent that.
And why I do (did, now, since I gave it away) own a book on bear hunting in the great Northwest? I've only been to that neck of the woods a time or two and certainly not to trek off after big furry creatures.
The author's name didn't ring a bell so it was not a kindness buy from a friend.
I do not understand why I own three neon yellow tees either. I love my t-shirts, but most of them are pastels with some cute saying on the front. Maybe I was contemplating a career as a highway construction flagger and forgot that.
I've always heard it said that as you age, your short-term memory becomes poorer although you remember rich details from your younger years. I dare say I haven't reached that point yet. I can tell you almost word for word what the prolonger conversation was between the supermarket cashier and her customer a couple days ago as I waited to pay for my three items. I clearly remember dashing through the rain in my cute new flip-flops and wondering why I didn't have sense enough to wear real shoes.
And yet there are those moments of wonder I spoke of earlier. The deepest and longest wonders often come in the wee hours of the night when I wonder if I remembered to turn off the coffee pot or, better yet, wonder if I will manage to get back to sleep before the alarm clock goes off.
Worse, however, is wondering if I remember something right. Is my haircut Thursday of this week or Thursday of next? Did the doctor tell me to take Vitamin B or was it Vitamin D?
This much I do know: Most of those things I forget aren't very important because my life goes on as good or better than before. And really, isn't that what matters?
My world is so often full of wonder. Time was when my mind was like a steel trap, capturing everything and holding tight. Now it's more like a sink trap with one of those push-in drain stoppers that doesn't hold quite right.
The problem, I believe, is that I have reached the point in my life where I've learned so much that my brain is running out of room to store things. I picture it much like that closet in the unused bedroom, the one where things get stored that you should probably get rid of but may need someday.
I'm terrible about that. I need one, just one, wooden shim but all I could find were packages of 10. So I bought a package and instead of passing the nine remaining ones on, I have kept them.
Turns out that I actually needed two. The second one came into play when I needed something to put my window air conditioner at the right angle to keep the condensation, or whatever that water is, from running down on my inside wall.
The other eight languish on a shelf in the upstairs hall, forlorn bur not lonely since they have each other. I am not surprised that no one has called to ask if I have a shim I'm not using. I wish they would because that would be eight thing out of my house.
After having to sort out and dispose of my mother's earthly belongings, I decided my children would not have to take on such an onerous task when I went to the great beyond.
That's where this over-full mind thing comes into play. I look at some objects and wonder why I have them. Surely there was a reason for me to purchase eight pretty pulls that don't line up with the holes in my kitchen cabinet doors. Maybe I was going to drill new holes, although that doesn't sound like me at all. The quickest way to get help from my children is to casually mention I'm about to use a power tool. They drop everything and run to prevent that.
And why I do (did, now, since I gave it away) own a book on bear hunting in the great Northwest? I've only been to that neck of the woods a time or two and certainly not to trek off after big furry creatures.
The author's name didn't ring a bell so it was not a kindness buy from a friend.
I do not understand why I own three neon yellow tees either. I love my t-shirts, but most of them are pastels with some cute saying on the front. Maybe I was contemplating a career as a highway construction flagger and forgot that.
I've always heard it said that as you age, your short-term memory becomes poorer although you remember rich details from your younger years. I dare say I haven't reached that point yet. I can tell you almost word for word what the prolonger conversation was between the supermarket cashier and her customer a couple days ago as I waited to pay for my three items. I clearly remember dashing through the rain in my cute new flip-flops and wondering why I didn't have sense enough to wear real shoes.
And yet there are those moments of wonder I spoke of earlier. The deepest and longest wonders often come in the wee hours of the night when I wonder if I remembered to turn off the coffee pot or, better yet, wonder if I will manage to get back to sleep before the alarm clock goes off.
Worse, however, is wondering if I remember something right. Is my haircut Thursday of this week or Thursday of next? Did the doctor tell me to take Vitamin B or was it Vitamin D?
This much I do know: Most of those things I forget aren't very important because my life goes on as good or better than before. And really, isn't that what matters?