gone

I leave in the morning with eight friends in a limo (for only $75 per gal because of the generosity of one of my friend/clients) for New Orleans to attend JazzFest. We are staying at this fabby condo (for free!!) on the RiverWalk.

I am so mad. I was cleaning my office and spilled a huge glass of water. Thought it all went on the floor. Was online that night for a long time. Next morning, laptop is DEAD.

Yep, water under it. Will be FOURTEEN DAYS without it. So, when I get back from the Big Easy Sunday night, I will not be able to download photos and do some great post to you all about our adventures. Grrrrrrr.

Right now, I am using TT's computer. It is like trying to swim through the mud, it is so slow and quirky.

Can you tell, my back hurts? I lose my positive outlook with the pain. I really love my laptop. I sit on our front porch in the soft southern spring breeze and read all your comments and visit your blogs, sipping red and relaxing in my mom's rocker.

Tim's office space is like a dungeon to me. He keeps the shades down on the windows. . . oh, stop griping HG.

So, I will be back to see you, my friends. I loved all your "dinner" lists. And thanks for all the dinner invitations! You all are the best.

dinner

I heard this on Oprah. If you could have a dinner with ten people who have died, who would you invite and why?

My dinner guests-

One: My husband's father - because he must have been awesome, just look at TT.

Two: Christopher Columbus - what courage to cross the blue in the hopes that his theories about a new continent were right and he made that journey in faith that God was leading him.

Three: Rahab - the Bible whore who found grace and faith with God (and whose children are in the lineage of Jesus Christ).

Four: David, King of Israel - who made so sinned so much, yet still was known as a man whose heart was after the Lord.

Five: Abigail - who was married to a fool, who became David's wife, yet did not get the honor of having her children in the lineage of Christ.

Six: Moses - who led a stubborn and rebellious and ungrateful group to the Promised Land, yet, b/c of his anger, did not get to enter the Promised Land himself.

Seven: Margaret Mitchell - the great author of Gone With the Wind. Who was she and how much of that novel was her own story?

Eight: All the children I did not have from taking birth control. What greatness did I miss from my womb by aborting baby after baby because it was not "convenient" to have a child?

Nine: Jesus Christ - King of Kings, lover of my soul, in spite of all my failings He gave Himself for me so that I would have eternal life and forgiveness for my millions of sins.

Ten: My mother - who denied God until ten days before her death. What was it like to be embraced by the One she rejected for nearly all her life?


So, who woud you invite to your dinner and why? And do you think we could get Jamie and Belle to cater for us?!

big

(Another chapter from my book, MA, this one about Tremendous Tim.)


Once, Daddy had a big paint business.


I knew it wuz big 'cuz he bought Ma a big house, big cars, her side of the closet wuz filled with skads o' clothes ('specially fancy sweaters) an' even Daddy bought lots o' shoes for hisself.

Ma used to hang up the phone an' say to me, "We gotta pray, Daddy's got some big problems at work." But then, ever'than' 'bout Daddy wuz big to me. He had a big heart an' he gave big gifts. I loved crawlin' up in his arms an' snugglin' into his big chest.

Soon after Daddy took sick, Ma set me down an' said she wuz doin' all she could, but thet at 15 years, I wuz gonna hafta earn all my own money. She said, "I kin give you a bed to sleep in an' food on yer plate, but you an' I gotta pull together so we don't lose this house."

Daddy din't paint no more. He even stopped pointin' out "his" buildin's as we drove 'round town.

Ma wuz strong - she jest kept workin'. She got thinner an' thinner.

One day, we all drove out to Daddy's office. Later, I'd find out, it wuz fer the last time. They wuz a'goin' through thangs, really throwin' ever'than' out, or so it seemed. Daddy looked sad, frail-like.

Ma come up missin' fer a while. I found her out back, standin' thar, lookin' at all Daddy's paint trucks, cryin' like her heart would break. "All his dreams. . . " wuz all she could choke out. Why did Ma's tears make me feel the way thet they did?

Next thang I know'd, she had gathered herself up an' wuz back at his side, hard at work.

I learned thet year thet a "fire sale" has nothin' to do with somethan' actually burnin' up, an' thet where a man works has a big bunch of his heart in it.

It took some time spent in them church meetin's, but Daddy started goin' after his Father's business an' seemed like earthly thangs din't take so much space in his heart. He wuz after thet Big House in Heaven.

unexpected

It was another day at the salon, busy schedule, cut, dry, sweep the floor, stay on time, powder my nose, answer calls, where is my temporary assistant (remember A is on her honeymoon), update my client cards, mix the next color formula.

The owner's wife breezes into my room with a lovely Easter lily and an adorable Easter basket. Hmmmmm. Shock. Joy. A quick thank you from me and she is gone.

I love our salon owners. They are good, fair people. They have never been the gooshy, mooshy type. They have their own mountains to climb, their own struggles. As stylists, we oft have felt like the forgotten and even unwanted step-children of their lives. We just pay our rent, don't make trouble. They do their thing, we do ours.

I love a team. I love a coach. I love a bright, shining star to follow, to aspire to, to be lead by. I have had to find that coach in me and sadly accept that was not the role of our owners. Accept, but didn't like it.

Lately, something different has been brewing in them. It is like their hearts are returning to the salon. I don't think they know what it means to all of us. . . we really need them. Yes, we can make it on our own. . . but we want to thrive, not just survive. We want to know they appreciate us, notice us, like us, admire us.

The Easter lilies and decorations and baskets and candies were sweet beyond words. The salon smells sweet. Everyone's attitudes have been sweet. Spring, Easter, the Resurrection - all symbolic of new life. Their loving gift has resurrected hope and love in the salon.

What a Happy Easter. Thank you, to our dear owners.

bridesmaid

A got married today. I "fit" into the dress. Had to wear my hair up because the day began with torrential rain. . . but by 2:00, her wedding hour, the skies were blue and kissed with white puffy clouds.

Daughter and I were pretty emotional. We love A fiercely. Want to know she is going to be loved, honored and well-treated. . . we'll see.

A picture is worth a thousand words, so here you are!

A is my faithful assistant. What an honor to do her hair for her special day!

Helping A's maid of honor who is a fabby friend and salon co-worker.

Daughter and I!

A is beautiful through and through.

silence

(After reading my friend Buffy's latest post, I decided to haul a work out of the closet. I wrote a book titled MA in 1999 in my daughter's voice, as though the story was her view of life with me. It was actually a complicated attempt to apologize for the parts of me that had been so painful to her.)






Ya know, thar's a differ'nce 'tween quiet an' silence.

After a day of errands an' shoppin', Ma'd say, "All right now, I need some quiet!" She'd go off to her bedroom an' I'd head to mine.

I liked thet time. I'd stand in front of the mirror an' look at how much I wuz growin' up. An' I'd think on all the doin's of the day an' how differ'nt I wuz gonna be when I wuz a ma.

I knew when Ma said she needed quiet thet her nerves wuz in a knot from traffic an' noise. Shoppin' with her warn't much fun. But when she'd come out from her quiet time, she wuz generaly calmed down an' a bit more sweet.

So, quiet wuz all right.

It wuz the silence thet loomed cold like poison gas thet I grew to jest 'bout hate.

Like after Gran'pa died, it seemed real silent. No more piano or help with my math problems.

Then, thar wuz thet long silence 'tween Ma an' her middle sister. Ma never said a lot aginst her. I liked my aunt - she wuz thet real lovey-dovey sort. But thet's how three-year -olds sees thangs!

The worse silence is 'tween Ma an' her mama. Ma often looks at me sad-like an' says, "I kin see so much of Gran'ma in ya."

Sometimes, I wonders what it is thet gits people so tied up on thar insides thet they seem to stop lovin' thar own flesh an' blood.

Ma's tol' me a hundrid times, if'n she's said it once, "Girl, I will always love you, no matter what you done - I might git mad, but I'll always love you an' you kin always come back home to me an' yer daddy."

Thet's how I love Ma, too. She's been perty testy sometimes, an' I've been mad at her, but I guess I wanna give her what she ha'n't seemed to git from her own mama.

Thar is somthin' peaceful 'bout the quiet. Ya know in yer heart thet ever'one is jest restin'. When I go off to keep my own house, I don't want no silent times.

'Specialy 'tween me an' Ma.