Every room has a challenge. The playroom has become a dungeon of discarded toys, all jumbled into baskets and plastic bins. My kids venture into there from time to time, emptying as many boxes and containers as possible, and then leave. The living room has a couple of end tables, 2 overstuffed chairs from a thousand years ago that scream early 1990's fashion nightmare and my armoire. That sounds like an ok amount, but when the room has tall ceilings and is the size of a freight carrier, it looks pretty stupid.
I haven't hung some mirrors, or some pictures yet- because really, I don't know where to start. Anywhooo- I woke up this morning, a woman determined. I started sifting through things, and of course, quickly became distracted.
I found a box of letters I grabbed when sorting through my grandmother's things after she died. One of them, dated Feb. 1942, is from her girlfriend Shirley, who was living in Norfolk. She congratulated my grandmother on finally managing to go steady with a guy for longer than 3 months. And marveled at how my grandmother managed to pick up a guy while staying in the hospital recovering from appendicitis. That was my grandfather, folks. Cool stuff.
I decided to put some music on to keep me focused. I found a CD my Dad made for my daughter Annie after she was born. We have been listening to it all morning. Here's what's on it:
Bye Bye Blackbird- The McGuire Sisters
California Dreamin'- The Mamas and the Papas
Little Red Shoes- Loretta Lynn
You Are My Sunshine- Norman Blake
Amazing Grace- Ralph Stanley
Garden Party- Rick Nelson
High Heel Sneakers- Tommy Tucker
Keep On The Sunny Side- The Whites
Honeycomb- Jimmy Rodgers
Brown Eyed Girl- Jimmy Buffet
The Puppy Song- Harry Nillsson
Mr. Sandman- The Four Aces
New Kid In Town- The Eagles
California Girls- the Beach Boys
Swinging On A Star- Bing Crosby
Acc-centuate The Positive- Bing Crosby
The last one, is probably to remind Annie that Grandad is a retired Airforce Colonel. Full bird, folks. That means that when I was growing up, my Dad was a bad ass. He's always been a man of few words, but I can remember one time when my Dad took all of us to a major league baseball game. Two guys sitting behind us had obviously had a lot of beer, and were using words that can now be found on NBC network tv, but at the time, were shocking to my eight year old, Laura Ingalls ears. My Dad turned around, told the guys to start acting like gentlemen, or he would set them straight. Both guys shut up. I saw my older brother smirk and I giggled, but we didn't hear from the guys for the rest of the game.
I'll have to remember to tell Annie that story because she only knows him as a softie that gives her awesome tunes.