Bread and a Little Jam

I've never told this story to anyone before. 

When I was eight, my family lived in the very, very small town of Silver Lake, Oregon.  The town of Silver Lake boasted a one-pump gas station, a schoolhouse of four rooms, and just one main paved road right through the center, out of which branched a dozen or so winding dirt roads.  There was no supermarket, so going grocery shopping meant an hour drive to the city. 

We did have a little corner store that sold a limited variety of staples such as milk, nails, and pastel candy buttons, and it was to here that I sometimes rode my bicycle to pick things up for my mother.  I don't think my mom knew how much I hated this errand.  Hated it, because I was this timid, shy little kid who hesitated to make eye contact with anyone, including the nice elderly man behind the cash register. 

On this particular day, she sent me to buy a loaf of bread.  I carefully pocketed the dollar bill she handed me, and set off on my bike.   When I got to the store, I parked my bike and winced slightly as the front door tinkled my arrival.  I headed to the bakery rack and gently squeezed a loaf of Wonder bread as my mom had taught me.  Deeming it fresh enough, I carried it up to the counter where I gazed longingly at the candy buttons behind the glass.  Still thinking about candy, I walked out to my bike and headed home.

It wasn't until 10 minutes later, when my bicycle wheels were wobbling up our gravel pathway that I realized I still had that dollar in my pocket!  My feet actually froze on the pedals as the horror of what I had done hit me, knocking me over with my bike on top.

Now, let me just pause in the telling for a moment and consider what any other kid would have done in this situation.  Would she have biked back to the store and sheepishly handed over the dollar?  Maybe, if she was brave.  Would she have gone inside and admitted her mistake to her mother? Maybe, if she was honest.  Would she have just hid the dollar and taken the bread inside anyway?  Maybe, if she was smart.

Me?  On this day I was none of those things.  I was a panicked little girl whose brain scrambled to come up with the perfect cover-up...one which did NOT involve going back to the store and facing the nice man who had just watched me brazenly walk out his door with my loaf of pilfered Wonder bread.

I decided to get rid of the evidence, and I tossed that loaf of bread into the bushes at the end of our driveway.  What was I thinking?  Did I think it was going to just magically disappear?  Possibly.  Panic-stricken eight-year-olds are clearly not the best problem solvers. 

So, I went into my house and gave my mom back the dollar, telling her that the store was out of bread.  She accepted that with a shrug and began to make soup for lunch instead of peanut butter sandwiches.  It was so easy.  And I didn't get in trouble.  Feeling satisfied with myself, I buried my shoplifting guilt in the back of my mind and went off to play.

It was a short-lived relief, though.  That loaf of bread...that stupid loaf of tell-tale bread!  Wouldn't you know it?  The very next day my mom came rushing through our front door holding up a loaf of Wonder bread!  Wow, she exclaimed!   Here we were...all out of bread with none in the store, and what do you know?  Somebody accidentally dropped a loaf of bread right in front of our house!  Was that providence, or what??

We ate our peanut butter sandwiches that day, mine sticking in my throat more than usual.  Smiling at me, my mom gave me an unexpected second sandwich just because.   And although I had no appetite for it, by God...I ate every bite.

My mom never said anything to me about the bread.  I never knew if she really knew the truth or not, and the wondering about that was enough punishment in itself.  Coincidentally, my days of shopping went on hiatus for a time.  My mom began sending my plucky little sister Jacque, who wasn't scared of anybody or anything...and whatever scrapes she got into, she always brought home the bread.

Memoirs

Seeing as how all the things presently going on in my life I've deemed either too personal or too boring to write about, I was thinking I'll spend some time writing about my past.  It wasn't always pretty, or interesting, but I've loved my life. 

"...to understand that a little girl with more courage than she knew, would find her prayers were answered, can that not be called happiness? After all these are not the memoirs of an empress, nor of a queen. These are memoirs of another kind."

Artistic Expression

Abstract cave art believed to be from the Jadeolithic era.   Pigment sampling has revealed that early humans enjoyed soap crayon as a popular medium.

Here we have a family scene suggesting a typical hunter-male pulling around a gatherer-female by the hair...

 

 Although similar paintings can be found in nearby caves, these unfortunately did not survive the erosion inherent to their region.

Thirty-Ten is the New Forty

So.  It's not so bad.  Really.

For all my self-deprecation this past week, I actually feel good.  I feel like me, same as always.  "Age is just a number."  That's what they say, right?  Besides, Kharli tells me I'm officially a cougar now!

I'm not sorry about entering a new decade of numbers.  Numbers are important.  Numbers represent more than what they are.   When we add together all our hours, our days, our years living on this planet...well, why would anyone want to deny those?

Why would I really want to turn back the clock and deny all those days of being me?  Why would I be sad and wish to have those days back?  If anything, growing a day older only makes me sad in that it means I have one less day to stick around here. 

Being older isn't such a bad thing to be.  Yes, I have to be more careful about what I eat.  And I have to wear sunblock on my toes.  I have to take different vitamins than before.  I suppose I have to worry about a whole lot of things I never did before.

But to me, being older just means that I've lived.  Good or bad, I've lived.  That's an amazing feeling.  And I can't wait to see how the next forty years play out.

Happy birthday to me.     :)

Caitlyn's Birthday

 This year we celebrated with family at our local park again.  It was a beautiful day for a party!  Here are some of my favorite photos...

 My little kids

 

and big kids.

 

Pretty cousins.  Told them this wasn't going on FB.  

More cousins :) 

Jaden feeling jealous of the birthday girl getting so much attention.

 I perked her up by taking pictures.  

Where did she learn to pose like that?

My girls think they can play soccer...hahaha.  Someday, girls.

 

 She really didn't enjoy when we sang Happy Birthday.  

Right after I took this, she lunged for me and did the kangaroo thing until we were finished.

CAKE!  Caitlyn had been talking about "her cake" for 3 days straight.

I didn't know she made this face until just now...hahaha...I thought we were taking a sweet picture :)

Just doing a little shopping in the park.

 Jaden, thinking about which toys to try to swipe later...

My birthday girl

Thank you to all our family for helping make Catie's birthday special!  She had a wonderful time, and now it looks like the toy store blew up in our house.  She even shares her gifts...sometimes. :)