Share a Coke with Jane

If Mother ever needed an IV, it would be filled with REAL and REGULAR Coca~Cola.  That or Real and Regular sugar-laden Coffee.
My preference was Diet Coke.  I'm a Sprite-Zero person now, or even a Water Girl. Long Story.

"Share a Coke" campaign captured my imagination.
The marketing strategy aimed at teenagers and Millennials includes names like "Mel" and "Justin," "Paige" and "Matt."
Canned coke have iconic group names like "BFF" and "Legend."
Names like Margaret are not included.
Jane is there, though. Naturally.  Jane and Joe.
If your name is not among the favored, it's either totally unique or really, really, really old.
Like Margaret.
Go to shareacoke.com and create your own bottle.
Summertime is the perfect time to share an Ice Cold Coca-Cola!

Sock on the Mantel

Erma Bombeck was my idol...with her take on housework.  Done correctly, it could kill you.
So, for self-preservation, I avoid it.
One of her best articles featured "the sock on the mantel."
The principle is this: If an item remains where it was last placed for long enough, it "belongs there."
If a sock somehow flies around the den and lands on the mantel, leave it there. Left long enough, it will have a permanent home.
"Sock on the Mantel" is my mantra in clutter management and housework avoidance.
That's why my husband's 3rd place ribbon from last year's Labor Day 5K remains on the end table, where it belongs.

The Beach with no Sand

                                                  Saturday Sunshine.

Beach time!

Novel - check.

Soda- check.Sunglasses and visor- check, check.

50 sunblock, towels, flip-flops, and snazzy toes.

Sand- nada, nohow, noway, 

not in my suit, not hot on my feet.

It's the one sacrifice I make to enjoy

My Day at the Beach.

 

Back-to-School Chocolate

No need to shop for "Back-to-School Chocolate."
           The phrase I attribute to friend Debbie Archer who is doing that exact thing today. Bless her.

I think about Back-to-School, though. It's in my blood. That and Chocolate.
I love school supplies. And new outfits. New shoes. Colored markers.
Blue and Black pens. 3-ring binders and dividers. Laptops.
Power-Point Presentations.

Bags of chocolates for teachers and for the basket on my desk. Take one. Or Two. In case of Emergency, Take all you need.

Pictures of The Bartlett 9th Grade Academy are steeped in Panther Pride. Red and Blue and B for Bartlett. Eye-Candy for Bartlett Panthers everywhere.


 The Academy is a concept long overdue for implementation.Way to go, City of Bartlett Schools.

Times change. Things improve. I'm thrilled that it's worked out for the incoming 9th graders and the high school (now 10-12). I do wonder about repeating freshmen, and advanced course offerings for talented 9th graders, but that's not my headache. Thinking about it necessitates 1 mini square of chocolate.

Coming home from last breath vacations. Washing. Unpacking, Shaking sand from shoes and bathing suits. Packing lunches. Reality. Chocolate. Whole Hershey Bar. It's all over my fingers. Sticky.

Schedules, Teachers, InService Training & Workshops, Evaluations, Textbooks, Web Sites, New Students. A Handful of Peanut Butter M&M's.

Registration Day. Yikes.Chocolate OD. It's smeared across my face.

Setting the Alarm. OMG. Gimme Chocolate. Now. I think I will have to go shopping~
for Back-to-School Chocolate.

Move Over, Mia Hamm

           Move over Mia Hamm. A new female athlete, capable of completing 3 exercises simultaneously, has emerged on the scene. While soccer is not one of the three athletic endeavors, Mia still must move over. I can wear a sports bra with the best of female athletes.

           This morning I completed 3.18 miles while 1) listening to playlist on IPod, 2) imagining dance moves, and 3) not tripping over my own feet.  This 3.18 mile walk was at a speedy 18:14 min./mile pace: up and down hills, through valleys, around curves, over potholes. A car stopped and I chatted with a passer-by. Small town marathon training protocol requires chatting, visiting, and waving.

I'm in training for the 2nd Annual Labor Day 5K. My husband participated last year. He didn't train but had a strategy. Heat derailed his strategy but he won a Ribbon, placing third in his age group. The ribbon is still visible in our living room, a not-so-subtle reminder of my goal.

My personal trainer will be visiting me the first week of August, so marathon walkers need to watch out.

Well, Shut My Mouth

"Too many of today's kids, from relatively early on, pick up a very inappropriate manner of talking to adults from characters on television sit-coms."
      This quote from John Rosemond, columnist in the Ark Dem-Gaz.
      The headline "Sassiness" caught my eye.

I was born with the congenital disease called "Last Word-itis."  I passed it on to my older son, but have retained a portion for myself.

Sassy. I had a dog I named Sassy. I was sassy myself, one time to my father.  He slapped  me.  Once.
I was sassy to my mother.That's why I didn't go out much as a teen. I was being held virtual prisoner in my room, which held no entertainment potential.

The cleanest mouth in 6 states was mine. Good ole Ivory soap washed my mouth out on numerous occasions.Defiance was addressed with a switch to the lower extremities.The parental units took care of me quite well because they knew the potential.

As a school-age child and teenager, I was quiet and respectful, obedient and compliant.
I was saving up.

I still have spunk and a tongue that can carve my name into your hide, with a smile. I inherited it from my mother, but I use that weapon sparingly.

I am sure of this: 
Sassiness is unbecoming on a child, a teenager.  It can be cultivated into a fine backbone and a personal stance for self.  But, left to its own devices, the toxic mouth syndrome is perpetuated in sit-coms and those bad examples do not help the growth of a young person at all.

Grilling in the Rain

How much do you love me?  Let me count the ways:
   You love me enough to fire up the grill since I marinated the fillets.
     You love me enough to say nothing when the thunder rolls.
    You love me enough to stand still as I watch two hummingbirds sip the magic juice and buzz your head.
     You love me enough to smile at the bunny munching clover, as I tip-toe over to smile beside you.
   You love me to the breadth and depth and height that your umbrella can reach as you dodge the raindrops to grill these steaks.
 
   But if God chooses, we shall love each other even better..after supper.
*** We need a grill umbrella like one of these.

Art in the Afternoon

Draw me a picture, Nana. 

Uh-oh. Here we go. 

Down the rabbit hole of art.

Delving unabashedly into the family’s treasure trove of superior artistic skill.

Remembering days when my own pictures were displayed for all to see.

Like on the bulletin board in Mrs. Wheeler’s Third Grade Class.

That’s the first, last, and only time my art has been displayed.

Public School Art caused me to change my college major.

I’d glance around and see magnificence to the right, left, and behind me.

Their potato prints and sponge-scapes brought appreciative nods from Professor.

He’d stop at each work station and comment with flair about the art being created.

When he reached my “studio”, he looked, sighed, and moved on.

“Hmmmm,”he said.

So, when Aubrey asked me to draw a picture, I agreed and took the crayon she offered.

I drew a bunny.

We’d seen one munching clover beside the daylilies that afternoon.

Body, fluffy tail, and two big ears. Voila! Masterpiece.

“That’s not a bunny, Nana.”

“It’s not?  Well, what is it?”

“That’s an airplane!”