A Do-Over Do-Over

Here I am in San Antonio, alive AND well.  The do-over has been a success!  We have toured the Texas state capital, sewed skirts, saw "Monsters vs. Aliens" and beautified the blogging world one makeover at a time.  I must say that sitting next to Emily, watching her work her magic, is rather impressive.  I would like to further add that if you check out some of her new stuff at The Blog Fairy you may recognize my fine hand in a couple of the completed looks.  (It was my idea to add the tree to "The Deal Mom."  She wouldn't let me add a squirrel.) 

Emily took a break from her million waiting customers (she actually has quite a waiting list) to redesign my look.  I am very pleased with it.  If you look carefully at my header you will notice one member of the family is missing.  Imagine that...Emily doesn't have a picture of my cat in her files.

Do-Over

I have heard it said that "in life there are no do-overs." Well that's just not true and I intend to prove it in the coming week.

A year ago, I flew to San Antonio for my annual Spring Break extravaganza. I arrived apologizing for the cold that I had and was assured that it was no problem--Abby was also a little sick...and Eric had a BAD tooth abscess. Lesser people might have scrapped their plans and opted for quietly nursing their various ills in the comfort of home and hearth, but not us--we have the blood of the mighty (and insanely stoic) Gappmayers flowing through our veins. Well, except for Eric...but he's a fast learner.

So Abby and I gamely trudged along with the group as we visited the Hemisfair, the Children's Theater, the Riverwalk, the charming village of Groen, and a host of restaurants and picnic spots. You can see in this photo what a good time Abby was having:


Of course the punchline is that less than a week after this photo was taken I was in the ICU on life support and Abby was hospitalized with pneumonia.

In an effort to erase those less-than-stellar memories, I am attempting a do-over this coming week. On Monday I will fly to San Antonio and return home the following Monday. Keep your fingers crossed...hehe.

In a further effort to reverse my jinx I have even made future travel plans. We are spending Easter weekend in St. George and taking Emily and the girls with us. (They are flying here on April 4 to paint a friend's house--it's a long story.) In June, we are driving back to St. George to pick up Sarah and the boys and then continuing on to San Antonio for Abby's baptism. When we return to Bakersfield, we will be blessed with a visit from Jake and Riley who are flying to Bakersfield to spend time with their various cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents before the rest of the Clements arrive in early July for an extended visit which will include Riley's baptism. In late July, all of the Reed women and kids are gathering for a retreat in Flagstaff, hosted by Liza's BFF Brooke Thomas. In August, I am flying back to San Antonio to help Liza with the National Psoriasis Convention, and in October, I plan to go with Bill to Orlando. He's going for the Emerson Users Exchange (sounds like a pretty sketchy group). I'm going to rendezvous with a certain rodent.

So...you can see how important it is that this do-over goes well. I'm not superstitious, but I AM looking for a rabbit's foot...

What's The Time?

Ahhh...daylight savings time. Soft, gentle evenings. Relaxing on the front porch, visiting with neighbors while watching the kids playing up and down the street. Lawnmowers coming out after dinner along with tall glasses of lemonade. A magical time when bedtime comes a little later and play lasts a little longer.

Of course all of this is pure conjecture.

I grew up in a home where bedtime was 7:00 p.m. until we turned 12. It didn't matter if it was bright as a new penny outside. I can remember spring and summer nights when I would lay in bed listening to the neighborhood kids playing outside my window until it grew dark. And thus was born my preoccupation with time...

Time was a big deal in my childhood home. All of our daily activities were bracketed by two thoughts; "Time's a'wasting," and "Daylight's burning." The latter expression was my Dad's favorite. I don't know if he made it up or if other people said it, too. Loosely translated, it means, " Get off your lazy butt and get busy!"

I am at a point in my life now where I can sleep late if I want. But I can't help feeling guilty. It's part of being German...and being a Gappmayer. For seventeen years I was awakened at the crack of every dawn by my Dad shouting, "Heraus! Heraus!" (Out! Out!) On Sunday mornings he would go out to the car 15 minutes before we had to leave for church and start honking the horn.

As I said, it's made me a little preoccupied with time. I thought about this last night as I went around the house setting all the clocks an hour ahead.

We have fifteen clocks in our home, not counting watches, cell phones, computers and appliances with clocks in them. I have been told that that is a lot of clocks. Maybe it is...

In my sewing room, I have two wall clocks so that I can see the time from wherever I am sitting. The only place you can't see the time in the sewing room is if you are in the closet with the door closed. And in that case, you have more to worry about than the time. Actually, I also have two clocks here in the office and two in the family room. One would hate to lose track of time while enjoying a relaxing evening watching T.V. Ditto for the hot tub--I have a clock mounted on the patio wall where I can check the time while soaking. In our bedroom there are three clocks. I can wake up from a dead sleep and instantly (as soon as I find my glasses) tell you the time. Bill pointed out to me that I have also hung a wall clock in a room that has nothing in it but a toilet and a sink. I hate to think what that says about me.

Say what you will about obsessive-compulsive disorders--WE were on time for church today!

So, enjoy daylight savings time...unless you live in the U.S. Virgin Islands, Puerto Rico, American Samoa, Hawaii, or Arizona. And if you ever need to know the time, give me a call.

Black Gold

If you'll recall, a few posts ago I explained that Bill had made his own birthday plans. Having discovered that one of his business acquaintances was part of a group of petroleum industry folks who had banded together to create a dramatic society called "Black Gold Productions," he bought tickets for us and five other couples to attend their production of "Wash Your Troubles Away." The event was a fund-raiser for the American Cancer Society and included a meal, a melodrama and a variety revue.


I was all set to make a lot of snide, snarky comments about oilfield workers who are in touch with their creative sides. I was prepared to suggest that Chris organize poetry readings among his fellow railroad workers or that Carl host a book club out at his plant. Instead, I am eating crow...which is not a very tasty bird.

It turned out to be a lot of fun!

Apparently, they have been doing this event for ten years and rake in a significant sum each year for the cancer society. We attended the last of six performances and it was a sellout crowd every night, with about 350 people in the auditorium at the Oildale (full of vintage "charm") VFW hall. (Okay, maybe that sounded a little snide.) Because Bill paid the corporate donation rate for the tickets he was dubbed a "Drama King." (WooHoo!) It bought him a quarter page ad in the program and front row seats for our group.

The food was good...no surprise. Those oilfield boys know their way around fire and a hunk of animal flesh. We had pork ribs, chicken, two kinds of sausage, beans, salsa, salad and rolls. The big surprise was the entertainment. It was well-written, funny and performed with levels of skill ranging from nearly competent to very good. In closing, I will leave you a little taste of the grand finale:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILL!!!