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Friday, October 18, 2013


Autumn has always been a time for change. The weather changes, the leaves change, and I arthritis sets in with a vengeance.  At least that last change isn't as bad as it actually is when Ol' Man Winter comes to visit, so there is something to be said for that. But the changes begin with the chill in the air. Even with that in mind, autumn is still (as I've said before) my favorite time of the year.

With the idea of change came the decision to re-work the title of this particular blog. I still had the words 'history and genealogy' as part of its description, and I really want this blog to be separate from my genealogical research and writing blog. I want to "just write" as the former title stated, but I know that I need to add just that little bit o' sass to my completely classy thoughts.

Yeah, yeah. I can hear you laughing. I've always loved to rhyme my words, and the particular phrase I'm using as my title has been floating around in my head for a while. I don't know where I first heard it - or if it just came to my superior witty mind out of the blue. I did do a Google search on the phrase and found a few mentions of it, but nothing that actually had this exact phrase as a title.  So, I'm claimin' it!

I intend to continue to write inane thoughts about my family and friends and in particular, life in general. Don't, however, expect tips on scrumptious southern cooking or anything of that nature. Domestic Goddess I am not.  Goddess, maybe...just not domestic.

Do expect more stories about my dysfunctional family and the thrills of life that come with our "two steps forward, three steps back" routine. It's hard to keep up with the delights of everything breaking down or going wrong at once, but I think that maybe if I just keep a sassy journal about it all, maybe the class will show itself somewhere. Ya think?

Ah, well. One can only hope.

@2013 Copyright by Carla Love Maitland

Sunday, October 6, 2013

The Autumn Leaves...

When I was a little girl, there was a beautiful song that was very popular. It's title was Autumn Leaves.  Every time I heard that haunting melody, I would think how wonderful it would be to have beautiful Autumn leaves drift by my window.

That really never happened much here in Memphis. We have Autumn (or Fall, as we call it), but the season is short and when the leaves fall, it seems to happen so fast that the leaves end up on the ground quicker than you can say, "Jack Rabbit!"  No drifting here. On the trees one day; on the ground the next. Every year I hope for a longer Autumn, and every year I hold out hope for the leaves to stay that beautiful color and not hit the ground so quickly. That rarely happens.

Nevertheless, Fall is my very favorite time of the year. The air is crisp and cool - not too hot and not too cold. I think I've always preferred it over Spring because of the fact that it meant that I would be going back to school. Yes, you heard me. I loved school. I guess that's why I became a teacher.

This year was the first year in sixty years that I didn't return to a school somewhere, either as a student or as a teacher. I didn't realize how much that would affect me. And in truth, it's only been since the weather here has turned a little cooler that I've actually thought about that and have become a bit melancholy. As long as it was hot and humid and didn't feel like those memories I have of returning to school in sweaters and new shoes, I was perfectly okay.

Not so much now. The high here in Memphis today was about 70, and the low tonight will be in the low 50s. I can hardly believe it. It's been beautiful, and all I can do is think of chalk boards, wooden floors, textbooks, and tons of friends. Did I say I loved school?

I think I need to go out and look for some leaves to rake.

@2013 Copyright by Carla Love Maitland

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Making Lemonade out of Lemons

The morning started out as a relatively normal day within our increasingly dysfunctional household. If I were to go into a litany of the ‘things’ that have gone wrong for us in our house lately, I’d be here for much longer than I want to right now. This is just a short ode to “Making Lemonade out of Lemons.”

Around 9:00 this morning, I made a brief run to the drugstore to pick up prescriptions and then went on to the library to drop my already-overdue books into the book slot. With those errands completed, I pulled back into my driveway with a happy heart and a whole list of chores in my mind that I was going to get done today. That was before I walked into the kitchen.

Water was pouring out from under the refrigerator. I yanked open the freezer door and saw that it was all coming from our icemaker. I closed the door, checked the temperature (which should have been under zero for the freezer) and was shocked to see the freezer numbers at 35! Not a good sign, for sure. The refrigerator had stopped working.

I called my husband on our phone intercom system and woke him from his sleep. He’s a late sleeper; I’m the early bird. He was not a happy person, but when I described what was happening, he hurried downstairs. (A few tears and frantic pleas for his help didn’t hurt either, I must admit!)

I started clearing off the top of our small side freezer in order to put as many of our frozen foods into it as possible.  That would have been nice if it hadn’t already been full. What do two people need with all of that food? I couldn’t get much into that freezer at all. I even drug out one of our larger coolers, emptied what ice that was left into it and put as much into the cooler as I could

And why do we keep everything in the world on top of the side freezer? Just clearing that off was a chore in itself. You might not do that, but we certainly do. Furthermore, it didn’t help any that we had already been to the store this week and our refrigerator freezer was completely full. All of that newly-bought food was thawing and melting, including the one frozen pizza that we had bought just for the heck of it. We haven’t bought a frozen pizza in years and had decided that we would try a margherita pizza, since we liked that type so much. The pizza wouldn't fit into either the cooler or the side freezer.

As we worked frantically to make sure that the refrigerator would come back on (my husband has done this before), we saw that pizza sitting there thawing and both of us had the same idea at practically the same time, “Pizza might taste good right about now!” Of course, the words we said were different, but the idea was the same.

So as my husband continued to work on the refrigerator (a light bulb broke, too, of course!), I turned on my ‘new’ oven.  Okay, it’s not new. It’s two years old – but I’ve never used it. That's right...I'm not a very good cook. My husband is the cook in our house, so the idea that I was going to cook anything, even a frozen pizza, was a bit daunting for me.  After all, this oven has digital numbers and all kinds of fancy things that I had no idea how to use.  But I persevered and managed to overcome that “new-fangled thang!” By golly, I cooked that darn pizza and it was darn good!

I only wish the refrigerator was. Not sure what’s going to happen with that, but I’m not going to let any negative thoughts into my mind. I’m going to dwell on how much fun my husband and I had taking a break, eating that pizza, and making lemonades out of lemons.

As to the rest of the ‘things’ that want to go wrong, I say, “Bring it on!”

Oh…wait. I really didn’t mean that. The refrigerator hasn’t come back on yet.  We need some good karma here.