Hot Fun in the Summertime

Summertime...

gardening a little,

sleeping in late,

staying up past midnight,

Friday afternoon dates.

Crazy cleaning frenzy,

reading something new,

cooking favorite recipes,

decorating guru.

Spending too much money,

shopping on the list,

organizing closets,

alarm clock noise not missed. 

Taking a vacation,

swimming in the pool,

road trips often as possible,

Maxxinista fool!

Gotta get a good rest,

Gotta clear my mind,

Gotta return in August,

Ready one more time.

June, July, and August,

been so good to me,

That's why I'm still teaching,

Thank you, sincerely.

©2011tbowenblog

What I Learned This Year by Mrs. Bowen

Sometimes when you judge a book by its cover,

it surprises you.

It may have not appealed to you at first,

but the more you read it,

the harder it is to put down,

and sometimes, 

even after just a few pages,

you fall for that kid,

(I mean book.)

You can't always get from A to B,

without zigzagging around a little.

I mean, it seems an obvious route,

but sometimes obvious doesn't work.

Alphabetical order isn't all it's

cracked up to be.

You don't want to miss the R's, Q's, and V's.

Sometimes when you have to work it out with a friend,

and neither of you want to give or budge,

it helps to stand in the hall and have to

come to an agreement before you can return to the room.

And if you get really tired of not agreeing,

you can at least agree to act like you agreed...

so you can return to the room.

I think adults should have to go to the hall.

You don't have to be the best at everything you do...

just try your best at everything you do.

Some of us are better thinkers, some better speakers,

and some better doers.

A few are good at all three.

Teacher's pet wannabes.

If I'm having a really difficult day,

a piece of candy from the treasure chest

makes everything right.

Especially if it has a lot of little pieces inside one wrapper

to make it last longer than everyone else's piece.

Having to run the track two times before 

playing on the equipment

is  a clever way to ensure that 

one runs around the track instead of walks -

which helps take the wiggles away.
This is the kind of genius they can't teach you in college.

Learning a new language 

is a lot easier for a seven year old, than 

a.....

lot older than seven year old.

Smarty pants! 

Being told from the first day of class that we

are a family-

we watch out for each other, 

help each other,

respect each other,

encourage each other

only makes me feel more like a mom

on the last day of school.

Bittersweet.

©2011tbowenblog

Lucky Me

Happy Anniversay, Baby

got you on my...mind.

(Hope you know that Little River Band song from the 70's or that's

gonna just seem weird.)

Yep,

thirty years today.

I was a child bride.

I sure do love my sweetheart.

I'm hoping we have another thirty years together,

and I'm also hoping

that one of us doesn't get really

tired of the other by then.

I'm not gonna say which one...

you can decide.

I think we've matured 

in our years of marriage.

We don't fight much, if at all.

I'd just call them more like gripe sessions.

I think after thirty years together,

we have the right to gripe occasionally.

It's a good outlet.

And it's better than throwing things -

somebody has to clean up the mess.

Mostly, we just mesh. 
Like pork and beans.
Ooh, I don't like that analogy.
Like peanut butter and jelly,
Fred and Ethyl,
Rock and Roll!

We like pretty much the same things

and dislike the same things.

We can almost read each other's thoughts.

We can finish each other's sentences.

We know how the other feels 

without even having to ask.
That's one thing I love about being married for 30 years. 


It sure is a lot less work than when we were newlyweds.

We still had to figure each other out.

We had to learn how to give and take...

and meet in the middle.

Not easy for someone who is use to having their way.

Again, not saying who,

don't like to point fingers.

We're empty nesters now.

That sets the tone for a whole new 
flight in our journey.
We're free birds...sometimes
we just don't feel like flying.
Other times,
we spread our wings, catch a breeze,
and don't look back. 
Mostly we like to just cozy up in our nest,
fluff our feathers a bit,
and
whistle a little tune.


Not that we aren't spontaneous anymore.
Oh yeah, we can be spontaneous.
(Let me just pencil that in real quick.)
Spontaneity is fun

and I like it.
But familiarity and security,

refuge and peace

are better.

I like them even more.

They're comfortable.

I like comfortable.

And I really love my sweetheart.

He makes me feel very comfortable!

Happy 30th Anniversary 

to my guy...

my best friend,

the love of my life..

my Sweetheart.

I really do want to spend the next

30 years

with 

you,

and only you.

XOXO

Old Age Isn't For Sissies

Have you ever gone to a school reunion

and been convinced

that you looked WAY younger 

than most everyone else?

Don't shake your head...I know you have.

Do you ever wonder why the older you get, 

the more it hurts to lay in bed for a long time.

That stinks really, you finally get a chance to sleep in late,

and you have to get out of bed so you can rest better.

Whazzup with that?

Have you ever found yourself trying to think of a reason

 why a certain body part hurts, 

but you realize there is now no longer

an excuse needed...

your just getting older?

Would you find it odd that you are drawn to the 

electric shopping carts at the store,

and have to slap yourself out of jumping

onto one and faking an injury,

to get out of walking, after a long day?

Yeah, that would be so immature.

Have you become close friends with your sticky note pad

and often feel frantic to discover

that you've forgotten where you put the note

to remind you to not forget something?

Why is it that as fate has it, some of us

need wrinkle cream AND acne cream.

That's just not right.

Have you ever laughed at someone else's remark

about having hairs show up in places they don't belong,

then secretly locked yourself in the bathroom to

proceed with close-up, mirror-in-hand inspection?

Me neither.

Would you believe me if I told

you I like where I am in my life right now.

That although I'm getting older,

 I'm much wiser and carefree, 

and there's a lot to be said 

for experience.

Well, you'll just have to trust me on that one.

I don't mind being older,

'cause I still feel like in my mind,

I'm thirty-something.

It's just that my #@*% body won't play along!

©2011tbowenblog

Kudos, Silver Fox!

My Dad is hip.

He is seventy-seven and

emails and uses Facebook.

In fact, he is not intimidated by 

the computer at all!

I think that rocks.

In fact, I feel like I know my dad really well,

but until he started using the computer and 

writing his thoughts down,

I didn't know he was quite so witty.

I mean, like really witty.

The kind of witty that makes me stop and think

"Um, that is way too cool of a thing for my

Dad to be saying!"

He sure surprises me and definitely

makes me laugh.

And I also get to see a soft side of him.

I already knew about that part of him.

It gets more profound with age, though.

He is more sentimental than he

would probably ever want to admit.

I love that about him too.

He sent me an email yesterday

stating that he just realized he was the oldest living person

on his Grandma and Grandpa Gaither's side...

oldest on Gaither side (Grandpa)

and Finley side (Grandma.)

Hmmm...

I have mixed feelings about that.

But Dad, I must say,

I'm lucky to  have got to see you in so many family roles in your life...as a grandson,
a nephew, a son, a cousin, an uncle, a brother, a grandfather, and a father.

Your family has always been the most important thing to you.

Thanks for instilling that in me.

You have loved and been loved by your family.

And always will be.

Kudos, Silver Fox.

(Now, send me something funny, will ya?)

My Opal Refrigerator

What's the chore that you just hate to do?

You know, the one you put off way too long.

For me,

it's cleaning out the refrigerator.

What, you say?

That's not such a bad job?

Well, obviously you don't have me and my Grandma's genes.

I have a name for the way my refrigerator looks right now.

It always gets to this point.

I call it my Opal fridge.

Named after my beloved Grandma.

My Grandma was a wonderful cook.

She always had plenty of whatever might possibly

be needed to whip something up at a moment's notice.

She also had an uncanny knack for fitting about ten times

more food in her refrigerator than should

humanly be possible.

You never knew what you'd find in there. 

But she knew where everything was.

And if you couldn't possibly find another inch to make something fit,

just hand it over to Opal.

She could almost do with her refrigerator

what Jesus did with the fish and loaves of bread.

Man, I miss my precious Grandma.

So much, it hurts sometimes.

I think I'm getting melancholy.

Who knew writing about my refrigerator would stir up so many memories.

I spent a few weeks nearly every summer with her...

in the country -

The Magical Place.

That also meant not having much in the way of city girl drinks 

while I was there.

(Except when my Aunt Myrtle saved the day and bought me

ice-cold Dr. Peppers.)

Grandma's fridge was always fully stocked with a big open jar

of fresh cow's milk, with about an inch of cream on top.

Her tap water had a lot of fluoride in it, so it looked a little murky.

There was usually some good ol' ice tea to found by dinner time though,

thank goodness.

And I know you know what kind of tea it was, don't you.

Had enough sugar in it to thicken my blood.

Just like her oatmeal.

Mmm...deliciousness.

OK  
so back to my original thought - 
my refrigerator.

I'll eventually get sick of it being a mess

and trying to find things that I know are in there somewhere.

Might even find a few chartreuse or aqua-marine colored

pieces of cheese,

Well... it's TRUE.

I'm not gonna hide the ugly truth. 

Then I'll go to town on it.

And it will look so very pretty...and clean and shiny.

And fresh-smelling,

And EMPTY!

Then I'll miss Grandma even more!

So I think it can wait for another few days.

Love always to Opal Sharon Gaither Stewart-

the refrigerator queen. 

And my hero.

xox

Some Fairy Tales Really Do Come True

After reading The Three Bears 

this week,

I am convinced that
SOMEONE

  may have been in MY house.

More specifically,

I'd guess a 6'3, food-sniffing someone.

After coming home from a recent trip,

my office chair was missing an important part...

the arm.

It was lying on the floor.

SOMEONE has been sitting in MY chair.

When planning to come home and heat up some leftover dinner

from the night before,

I discovered it had gone missing.
The food anyways...the bowl was still there.

SOMEONE has been eating MY porridge.

When retrieving some items from the guest room closet,

I noticed all the covers and pillows from the bed 

had been thrown all over the floor...

and the bed was unmade.

SOMEONE has been sleeping in my bed.

I think there is a very simple answer 

to these strange phenomenons...

Gold-Drew-locks 

has struck again.

And here she is!

PS  I am waiting for the fairy Godmother to show up next.
I'm very patient...I can wait.

©2011tbowenblog

It's Good Economics

I did an economics lesson today with my second graders on

goods vs.services and

producers and consumers.

I never liked economics much.

One thing I preached to my children, and my students

at school, is money doesn't buy happiness.

Not sure if that was a successful lesson with my sons.

I hope it was...time will tell.

But..my students, they have to really think about it 

at their age.

When I asked them the other day, after reading a chinese folktale,

if they thought you could be happy if you didn't have very much money,

there was a few loud resounding "NO's" in the bunch.

Ha.

I guess maybe I might have thought that too at seven or eight years old!

You know what I wish?

I wish that we still bartered with other people,

like in the old days. 

I will redecorate your bedroom,
you do my yard work.

I will tutor your daughter in reading,

you give me some homegrown tomatoes and corn

from your garden.

   

I will write you a poem for your Dad's birthday,

you make a pillow for my niece.

Wouldn't that be awesome within your own network of

family and friends,

to list your available goods and services,

and list what you'd like to barter for.

That would be pretty cool.

And ideal.

And convenient.

And good economics,

I think.

Although...

I guess I would have to stop saying

"It's Good to Be Queen."

Poo.

There's always a catch!

I Want my Aunt Cindy!

In honor of my sister on this Mother's Day,

Aunt Cindy or Dee Dee as often called-

is proof that an aunt can be a mother, too.

I know she has worried about her niece and nephews 

as much (and possibly even more)

than her sisters have, 

loved them as her own,

spoiled them unapologetically,

been as proud of them,

showed them the right path,

shared her two cents worth with them,

prayed for them,

kissed and hugged on them,

and 

cherished them in her heart.

They could never ask for a better aunt.

I love you Sissy!

Thank you for helping me raise my boys

to be young men WE can be proud of.

 With Shelby, Aidan, and Thomas

 With nephews Drew and Matt

One of her foster children.

 "Aunt:  A cherished friend and personal cheerleader

who will always see you through rose-colored glasses." - Unknown

"I not only call you aunt, I call you friend." - Unknown

"There are angels walking on this earth disguised as aunts." - Unknown

It's Good to be Queen

I'm not really sure when it began.

I mean, I can't remember any one thing

that started it...

my life as a queen.

Maybe it was because I lived with all males 

for many years.

If they didn't treat me like a queen,

it's not because I didn't try.

Maybe it's because I was the oldest of three daughters.

Isn't that how it always goes...

the eldest princess gets to become queen first.

Maybe it's because I like the idea

of being queen

much better than

being a lady-in-waiting.

I don't even like to wait.

Especially on a queen.

When that queen should be me.

Maybe it's because I love shoes.

And I'm sure that

queens own many shoes.

And purses.

Maybe it's because I like my 

younger friends to do things for me...

like hold my drink in the van,

or let me sleep on 

the most comfortable bed

when we travel.

Maybe I wanted to become queen

when I realized 

I had married a man

who did not care for frills nor fancy,

both of which I adore.

Especially if they are for me.

Maybe I've always thought it would be fun to have 
a scepter. 
I had to look up how to spell scepter.
Its an emblem of authority.
I would use it to tap on someone's head.
I won't say who.
Maybe more than one.

Queens get to talk in a certain tone.

I like that.

I spend a lot of time most every day with 

twenty-three little commoners.

They need a queen.

Really.

Also, I already have a jester

that lives with me.

So that's already covered.

I think I would look nice in a tiara.
My little princess friend has a tiara.
She should definitely share it with me
since I make her banana rainbows sometimes.

Maybe it is because I prefer being addressed as

Her Royal Highness...

I have not convinced my kingdom

of that yet.

They will come around eventually.

 So treat me no differently

than you would the queen.

Long live the queen.

And that is the end of the fairytale.

She lived happily ever after.
Until she woke up...
and had to make her own breakfast.

©2011tbowenblog