Splash Splash Saturday

The camera setting was off in most of the shots...  but you get the picture...

We tried to lure Gracie to the water but she was having no parts of it.  I think she said something like... Open the gate, I'm outta here!

The Seeds of Love A Father Plants

I am Reposting this from Last Year in Honor of my Dad on Father's Day:

I wish I would have known my Dad better.  Often he would sit quietly, drinking a beer, and thinking about life.    Maybe he was thinking about how he would have enough money to feed his family of nine.  Or maybe about how tired he was after a hard days work.  Or would we ever be able to afford a bigger house than the 4 room house we lived in?  I was told a bathroom was added only after my mom encountered a snake in the outhouse one day.  I'm sure he had to borrow the money to do so.  
I don't know.

These things I do know:    He worked hard as an electrician, and often he would work for nothing just to help a friend or family member.  He was a kind, quiet man.  

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     I sat on the hot macadam tossing a stone into the air and watching it fall onto the tarry road, waiting patiently for Dad to come home from work.  It was my turn for the bucket, and I hoped he would have something left from his lunch in there.  

     "Do you want to play hopscotch?" Rita asked. 

     "No, I'm waiting on Dad." I said.
     My stomach growled and I couldn't get my mind off what might be in the bucket tonight.  Yesterday had been my turn, but since Dad had eaten all of his lunch yesterday, my turn was carried over.  
     School had been out for nearly a month  and a calm, relaxed atmosphere had replaced the hectic one of getting up every morning and getting out for school.  My siblings and I were keeping busy with wiffle ball in the neighbors dirt driveway and picking berries along the hilly Cemetery Road where we lived.   There was lots to do, and the joy of it all was that we could do whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted.  Because school. was. out.  I loved those summers, thick with green leaves and fresh smells.  But mostly, I loved bucket day when it was my turn. 

     Dad's truck appeared just above the hill and I rose to my feet and brushed the dirt from my hands.  

     I felt a blast of heat from inside Dad's truck as I met him at the side of the road.

     He looked tired.  

     "Is there anything in the bucket?" I asked.
     "I think there's something in there..." he said.  I pulled back, careful not to fall over the embankment just above our yard, and waited.  Dad got out slowly and handed me the hot, metal bucket and I ran down the hill and sat under the cool of the maple tree.  There, I carefully opened the bucket and finished what was left inside.

Today I remember Dad who has been gone for close to 40 years. I remember the tremendous amount of love and sacrifice behind his saving a part of his lunch for us every day.  

My Dad

 Who would have thought that half eaten, soggy, minced ham sandwiches, baked by the sun, and a melted lunch cake in a tin bucket would become the best of memories?

I remember less and less about Dad as time passes on. There are, however, memories that are a part of who I am.  A part of who I have become because of the love that was showed me back then. 

I never really looked at Dad’s face when he handed me the bucket.  If I had though, I have a feeling I would have been looking into the face of the greatest man I'd never known... 

Dad, I miss and love you and thank you for all the sacrifices you made for us.

She Needs To Get A Life

A nosy jealous concerned neighbor took it upon herself to call the zoning board to make sure we had a permit to have our pool put in.  Funny she hadn't noticed it until now.  But I did find her  behavior the other day a little unusual.  Gary was on the deck installing the ladder and I was catching some rays.  She kept pacing in her yard and watching us.  I'm pretty sure she is the same unidentified caller that commanded me to take Gracie inside when she was barking (several years ago) in the yard.  Funny how she will never leave her name.  Just, "a neighbor".   Lets call her mystery woman.   Some people are miserable...  and they want to make everyone else that way too.  How is my pool hurting her?  And what does she care if we have a pool permit or not?  The pool is behind a 6ft privacy fence and if she hadn't seen us on the deck the other day she would not have even known a pool existed.

The pool was installed in 2013 and yes, the contractors were to file for a permit and I'm quite sure we have that permit.  Somewhere.  Zoning must have lost it.  Another mystery.

We searched high and low.   We found receipts for everything from the king size bed we purchased several years ago to  a ten year old computer.  But no pool papers.  

And so we needed to contact the contractor who installed the pool.  We paid cash... so no canceled checks nor credit card statement with the purchase.  

We cannot even remember the name of the contractor!  

So, we let our fingers do the walking through the yellow pages..  or rather..  online.  No luck.

It seems the pool permit is just as much a mystery as the mystery woman concerned about the permit.    As is the name, address and phone number of the contractor.  

Somewhere.  In this home of disorganization.  Lives a large, clear bag with a receipt, warranty, and permit and with the letters POOL on the outside.  

We sent the $25 fine to the zoning office and signed a paper with the pool plans and now we will receive a permit in the mail.  And hopefully Ms. Busybody our concerned neighbor can rest easy and enjoy her life as we will be enjoying ours.

Why can't people be more like dogs?