Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'

I looked at the calendar Friday and said, “Self, this month is going to be over before you know it.” In fact, I suspect summer will be over before we know it. I have a week of meetings, next week is bible school at church (and my birthday) and then we have a week between the end of bible school and the start of our trip. Teen Angel starts college two days after we get home from Europe, and woops, there it is, the end of summer. Why is it summer moves so much faster than the other seasons, especially winter? Winter is at least eight months long, isn’t it? Anyway, things are rolling along, and it seems our weeks are as full as ever.


We had a great Fourth of July which translates into the fact that we had homemade ice cream and no one lost a toe, a hand or his eyebrows to the annual driveway fireworks show. We had quite the show this year, between the stuff Teen Angel bought and the trunk full of explosives our next door neighbors bought in Missouri. There were four people out there lighting the assortment of fireworks, which made for a pretty show but left our roofs covered in bits of paper. Since everybody stands out in his yard, eating and watching the lights, we’re thinking that next year we should just make it official and have a block party. I’m not bringing the subject up again anytime soon though, because I’ll just end up getting nominated to plan it, and I need at least one activity in my life where I just show up with my broccoli casserole and enjoy someone else’s organizational skills.

We had an official Independence Day party at our house this past weekend since that’s when our friends were available. That was successful, too. Meaning everyone had a good time and no one got hurt, unless you count that spectacular fall Hubby had on the wet concrete floor of the Man Cave. The only thing damaged was his pride and one really cold longneck beer. We didn’t have fireworks at that party because honestly, that group (and I’m including us in that) should not be trusted with beer AND explosives. Plus, we figured our neighbors wouldn’t appreciate back to back weekends of us scaring their dogs and keeping them up late with loud noises.

And that brings us to today, which is Holy Mackerel Next Week is Bible School and Hula’s In Charge of Decorations and Hasn’t Done Anything About it Yet Day. Y’all know how I love bible school, but it has really snuck up on me this year. Our theme is 80’s Rock N’ Roll which is just the best theme ever in my book. I get a little misty eyed just thinking about it. In fact, I’ve been looking for my old 80’s concert t-shirts to wear but haven’t found them yet. There’s my REO Journey Wagon series and the original Police Synchronicity Tour, among others. I don’t think I have the Joan Jett shirt anymore, and I can honestly say getting rid of that is probably on my list of Top 10 Regrets of my 20’s. Right beneath the curly perm/big hair bow thing. Sigh. Sometimes we just don’t realize what we have until we lose it. On a positive note I did find my college coed intramural volleyball championship shirt AND my college pom pon squad tights with the hoof prints on the butt. Score!

This Friday, I have a mini reunion of some girls I went to high school with. That should be fun since it’s the folks we all really want to spend time with and none of the people who drove us crazy in school and that we would have to smile and pretend to be nice to at a full blown reunion. That’s followed up on Saturday by Teen Angel’s first roller derby bout. She’s very excited about it. Now, I’m excited for her, but the mother in me will be watching with one eye squeezed shut, worrying that every time she bangs into someone or takes a spill that teeth will go flying out or an ankle will crack into pieces. It makes me very nervous, despite all of the protective gear. And finally, before the month ends, our Bunco group will have its annual slumber party, which usually involves desserts, adult beverages and Guitar Hero, karaoke and maybe even a little Bunco. It also means I need to start training my body now for staying up past 1am because that birthday between now and then? That’s just one big reminder of how much older I’m getting. The next few weeks will be busy, indeed. I need to plan our itinerary for Europe, order some money belts and stock up on some stuff Hubby can eat while we’re gone. Otherwise, he’ll end up malnourished from a diet of Sprite Zero and Pringle’s potato chips. And I need to think about what we’re going to do for Mama’s 70th birthday, which is just around the corner in October. Weeeee! The fun never ends around here. And did I mention I’m shooting a wedding this fall?

Hot Lips

Last weekend there was a fire eater at the street festival they have in our downtown area each weekend.   It was pretty cool.  I mean, hot.  I was somewhat fascinated by him and yet repulsed at the same time.  I kept worrying about him setting his beard on fire.

 

And then I saw this and said, "Self, that is just one more reason not to pierce your tongue."

Word of the Day: Giddy

PRONOUNCIATION: gid•di•ly \ˈgi-də-lē\ adverb


— gid•di•ness \ˈgi-dē-nəs\ noun

DEFINITION

1

a : DIZZY b : causing dizziness c : whirling rapidly

2

a : lightheartedly silly : FRIVOLOUS b : joyfully elated : EUPHORIC

ORIGIN: From Old English gydig possessed, mad; akin to Old English god god

First Known Use: 14th century



Synonyms: BIRDBRAINED, DITZY (or DITSY), DIZZY, FEATHERBRAINED, FLIGHTY, FRIVOLOUS, FROTHY, FUTILE, GOOFY, HAREBRAINED, LIGHT-HEADED, LIGHT-MINDED, PUERILE, SCATTERBRAINED, SILLY, YEASTY

Antonyms: EARNEST, SERIOUS, SERIOUS-MINDED, SOBER, UNFRIVOLOUS



USED IN A SENTENCE: “The Hula-gen’s were downright giddy when the little green key for their rental apartment in Paris arrived in the mail today.”

*Y’all, I’m gonna pass out before I get to France.

Ellis Island

One of our favorite stops during our trip to New York City was our visit to Ellis Island. As we celebrated Independence Day this week I couldn’t help but think about that visit. And the 300 New York pictures I still have to sort and edit. But that’s a worry for another day. Anyway, it just seemed like a good opportunity to encourage you to see Ellis Island if you have never been there. I put it on my list of top ten things all Americans should see before they die, and I think it’s pretty dadgum interesting for folks who are not from the U.S., especially if they have family who immigrated here many years ago.


Hubby and I love history and all things old, so we were both really fascinated by the whole Ellis Island experience. From the ferry/train station where the tours begin:

To the island itself.

There are actually several buildings on Ellis Island, including some hospital barracks that have yet to be restored. Those are the buildings I most wanted to photograph, but I didn’t feel like getting arrested so I stuck to the program. The main building is the only one open to the public, and inside are reminders everywhere of the people who journeyed to this country to start a new life. From the trunks:

To the railroad schedules:

And the shoes of children from around the world:

There are all kinds of mementos that vividly illustrate the past purpose of that facility, and they are displayed in a way that gives you plenty of history and context about what went on there.

Right down to the dorm-like barracks where people stayed overnight.

And as you stand in the Great Hall, look down on an area once crowded with people being herded through the immigration process and read their handwritten accounts of coming to America you start to get a feel for what it must have been like to be an immigrant.

To have little more than a dream and to pack up a small amount of belongings and haul your family across the sea to a place you’ve never seen in order to start a brand new life where you don’t speak the language. To endure seasickness. To stand in line like cattle and be poked, prodded, examined and quizzed about your plans. To start with nothing in a land where you don’t speak the language and to find a job, a place to live and security. Honestly, how many of us would be that brave? As I looked out over that balcony I tried to imagine what it might be like to be about eight months pregnant, trying to carry a heavy trunk and hang onto a child’s hand while waiting for hours to see if you and your husband would be admitted into the country or sent back home. It’s difficult to imagine what some folks endured to come here.

And as you read the statistics and realize how all of us, except for those with Native American heritage, hail from immigrants, you start to consider your opinions on immigration and seriously think about how we often view people who clamor to be a part of the U.S. today. We are a nation built on immigrants and yet we are very eager to slam the door in the face of those who seek what generations before us received. Visiting Ellis Island takes what can be a very black and white issue for many of us and smudges it into a very hazy gray. It makes you think, and it makes you appreciate what you have. We are blessed to live in a wonderful country, and we should be very grateful for those who had the courage and vision to bring us here. Ellis Island does a great job of teaching us that, so I encourage you to go. Go and spend plenty of time there. Don’t rush. Read the material next to the exhibits. Examine the photographs and absorb the history. Oh, and the ferry ride ain’t bad either.

Ice Cream Man!

Thursdays bring great joy to Hubby and Teen Angel in the summer. Much joy. Enormous joy. Enough joy to fill up Yankee Stadium. Hop, skip and hum Yankee Doodle Dandy joy. Why, you ask? Well, brothers and sisters, Thursday is the day the ice cream man comes through our neighborhood. Wait. Let me correct that. Thursday is the day the ice cream man makes his quota for the week by stopping at our house.

Let me just say that when the ice cream man purposefully stops in your driveway, knows you by name and tells you he missed you last week when you were out of town it could be indicator of an ice cream addiction. OH, and when you keep a stash of dollar bills in the cup holder on the golf cart in case by some odd chance you miss the ice cream man and need to chase him down, you might be an ice cream addict. But if all it takes to bring that much pleasure to my peeps, then he can park that little truck at the end of my driveway any day. Just as long as he has a few strawberry Scooter Crunch Bars in there.

iheart Faces Photography Challenge-"Red, White and Blue"

Ya' know, I never get tired of looking at this photo.  I don't think I ever will.  From last year's community Veteran's Day parade.  Happy Independence Day, y'all!

Somebody Pinch Me

Hold onto your seats. The Hula-gen’s are headed here:

And here:

And I’d like to add a couple of other stops but there’s the issue of time and money. Holy Toledo, hotel rooms are expensive in London!  I’m hoping the time and money for Italy and other parts of Europe will be available in the coming years, but for now, WE’RE GOING TO LONDON AND PARIS!!!!!!!!! Woo hoo! Rue Cler will never be the same.

One of the gifts we gave Teen Angel for graduation was her passport. In fact, all three of us lined up at the post office recently to get our passports. It was a symbolic gift of sorts to her. A door to the world, so to speak. It has long been my goal to take her to Europe when she graduated from high school. I’m just a firm believer that every person should travel outside his home country to somewhere where he’s the minority and doesn’t speak the language. It’s such an eye opening experience to see how other folks live and to have to fumble around with a language barrier and different currency and traditions. Americans are so spoiled and proud. We think everyone outside the U.S. wants to be IN the U.S. and wants to be like us. We think everyone should speak English, and we really don’t see ourselves the way others see us. Traveling to a place where people live frugally, don’t always have certain amenities or value art and architecture more than the latest pair of jeans is a great way to better understand that the world is a diverse and exciting place. I want Teen Angel to know what other cultures are like and to appreciate the people of this Earth in a way that can’t be experienced by sitting in your own backyard. I want her to always have the desire to see the world so that hopefully, she will spend her time on Earth making the most of what it has to offer. And that journey begins now. The first week of August as a matter of fact.

We have saved and planned and researched. Sister mercy, have I researched! And yesterday I started booking our trip. We’re taking a few planes, some train and a few subways to and around London and Paris. It’s just me and Teen Angel. Hubby is sitting this one out to take care of his folks, but she and I will be seeing Big Ben, the Tower of London, the Museum D’Orsey, the Eiffel Tower and lots of other stuff in between. Instead of a hotel, we’ve rented an apartment in Paris so we can live like the Parisians for a few days, stopping at neighborhood markets for croissants and cheeses, eating breakfast while looking out our window onto the city and soaking up as much as we can in case we never get back. Yes, boys and girls, the Hula-gen’s are headed to Ru Cler, and it will never be the same. And neither will we.