THE BIRDS AND THE BEES

THE BIRDS AND THE BEES

Looks like there were two versions of this story at my house.

   One Christmas night while exercising with my sisters, I discovered something new.  

   This is what happened.  

   After Christmas supper, the abundance of candied yams and sugar cookies always sends my figure conscience clan out for a walk.  Mother usually accompanies us on the two mile loop that winds around our family home.  But this year she stayed back to watch football with the men folk.  At the time five out of the seven of us had teenagers.

     It's nice and cold outside, about fifty degrees.   The sun hasn't set and the warmth feels good in the winter air.  Looking down I am surrounded by my wonderful sisters feet, all clad in exercise shoes.  We turn north and our mouths start running too.

   Lucy as the eldest, always has the rest of us clamoring for her attention.  Witty, sensible and tough describe my parents first born.  Lucy Lea is loyal through and through.  Her classic beauty rivals the depth of her intelligence and the reach of her humor.  Her long wavy hair shines as she purses her lips to speak.  Lorraine is bombarding her with questions as I eagerly wait, to do the same.

   Huddled together while we race walk, the conversation turns to our kids and the dreaded task of informing them where they came from.  After discussing our combined options Polly asks "do y'all remember when Mother talked with us?" 

   Continuing on, the sun starts sinking low as I listen carefully to my sisters recollection of our childhood.   It appears we each got the birds and the bees chat around our eighth birthday.  Sounds about right. 

   As we laugh and walk and jockey for position, neighboring Christmas lights cast a nostalgic glow as the evening grows into night.  With all of my sisters agreeing on the basic facts of mom's story there is one little detail that none of them are repeating.  One by one they reminisce and it confirms what I have thought all these years!  Hello?  I got too much information. 
  
   I remember the summer before I turned eight.   Liquid memories of swirling hula-hoops, private tree forts and roller skates take me back in time.  Endless days of water skiing and barbecue with the smell of pool chlorine in my hair, fill my senses.  Details of how I came into the world and ended up playing in my backyard on thirty-fourth terrace, were not important to me.  I was young and happy, safe and carefree.

   Just about this time Rosemary and Polly notice I am conspicuously quiet.  In fast succession my siblings prod me and slow their pace.  Lorraine speaks up.  "Well Ivey Mae you sure are quiet.  What did mom say to you about 'doin it'?"

Slowly I reply.

  "Yea, looks like I got a little more information on doin the horizontal dance than y'all did."  Lingering the words to tease my sisters, it works.  "What?  What?  Oh my god what did she say!"  Lorraine, Polly, Lucy, Alice, Rosemary and Daisy are all talking at once and no one is walking as they form a circle around me.  Lucy Lea starts groaning and a smile creeps on her face "come on, what did she say?"

  " Well, my version is right on with yours almost verbatim.  She called me inside, sat me down on my bed with a library book and told me the fundamentals of the man with the sperm, the woman with the egg and combined they create conception. Yadda yadda."

  Then getting grossed out even speaking about it, an embarrassed grin creeps on my face causing my sisters to squeal like stuck pigs.  "What? What? Tell us! What did she say?"

   "Mind you, I asked no questions!  I could have cared less.  All I wanted was to go back outside and play."  Then she says "the couple can make love either lying down or......... standing up."   Daisy and Lorraine scream the loudest , in unison, "EEEEWWWwww GROSS!"  Roaring with laughter we start up the long walkway and see our parents rocking side by side, smiling, at the sight in front of them.      

   Adding a final thought to our sisterly secret, I lower my voice. "Hhhhhmmmmm.  No wonder their bedroom door is locked all the time." 

  Then Lucy says in the same muted voice with a wink in her eyes  " And now we understand why she can wear the shower cap and a moo-moo and still look so darned cute to dad!"

  

THEY CAN'T BREATHE

Layton Valley, Utah smells reminiscent, but out of place as I walk through the wild flowers growing along the path winding back up to the resort.  The dry desert heat lifts a scent that is so familiar, yet I cannot place my finger on it.  The thin air is quiet and serene as I gaze over the Wasatch Mountain range and imagine the vast difference between here and Florida.
Getting closer to the resort entrance I am distracted from my focus on figurin out the smell of the air by how good Eddie Money sounds through their sound system.
Two Tickets to Paradise causes me to pause by the entrance.  I decide to sit a while and ponder life on the smooth cedar bench closest to the door.
There is no hurry today.  And even if I was in a hurry I couldn’t move fast if I wanted to.  Dang it is hard to breathe here, so taking a pause to catch ones breath is always a prudent past time in Utah.
This visit to my favorite state of Utah, I am in the valley so I am not nauseated or flat out incapacitated like when I go further up into Park City.   But I am used to being at sea level so even at 4,350 feet; it doesn’t mean the building ain’t swayin!
Still, visiting Utah continues to be one of the biggest hoots of my life.  But man oh man what a schlepp to get here.  The topography could not be any different from my home town of Coral Gables, so it would have to be far far away.
It takes one leg of the trip to arrive at a HUB, usually DFW, then me and my camel hump move on to another plane and one more flight.  By the time I gather my entire luggage I am huffing and puffing real well.
This trip by the time I arrived at the rental car counter, a cute man in a nice hat with a lovely wife wearing pretty shoes, stopped to admire my ability to travel like a Uhaul all on my own two legs, with no wheels in sight.  They were both smiling incredulously as the gentleman told me “We are really impressed with your strength, do you need any help?”
Laughing I replied. “Thank y’all so very much.  No I am good with the bags, but I could always use help with my Mother back in Coral Gables. Y’all up for that?”  We chuckled away and then bid a good day.
Being here is a surreal blend of reality.  It is like some sort of blast from the past because aside from the landscape, the general way that Utahans live life reminds me of growing up in the sixties, in Miami.  Their manner of behaving is very civil.  There is a comfortable feeling in Utah that ties the streets and homes together as one.
Calm, is the name of the game in Utah.
After visiting for four years and the three out of four seasons, I am convinced as to why everyone, everywhere in Utah is calm…they can’t breathe!
Even when Utahans are tellin you fantastic news or having a celebration they can barely if at all, muster up the appropriate body language to get their point across.  I am tellin you it is hard to get ‘er done, in Utah.  I have not been to a wedding or even a party yet in Utah but I am imaginin’ ahead of time that I will not have to take a nap that day, before the festivities
Thin air tempers everything.  I have friends who live half the year in Park City Utah and the other half of the year they reside in flat and sunny Boca Raton.  A Floridian’s idea of a mountain is a landfill.   Their first stop when returning to Utah each summer is the oxygen rental company.  This may sound over the top for those of you who don’t understand altitude sickness, but it is something you don’t want to get and once you have had it, you will prevent it at any cost.   Most people from Florida feel something out of the norm when visiting a high altitude.  The lucky ones just get a headache for a couple days. 
And Utah dusk in the summer time is just the strangest thing.  Once dusk falls over the magnificent Wasatch Mountain range, a grayish purple covers the world as far as the eye can see.  It insists that lingering feel of dinnertime until about nine thirty at night.  Can you imagine?  It makes me feel like I am in Alaska or something.
You’d think with all of this extra sunlight people would be extra productive.  Not the case.  The thin air makes Utahans feel sorta like they have a constant case of Thanksgiving-Turkey hang over but without the bloat.
And referring to bloat?  Ain’t no one bloated here.  They do not even have a visual on what it means to be bloated.
Well for one thing there is no Blue Bell ice cream out West.  Anyone Southern will know exactly what I am sayin and secondly, not bein able to breathe takes away your appetite.  Look, there is a Cupcake War winner right across the street from our hotel here in Layton.  I must have cupcake radar because the very first afternoon I stumbled upon it looking for the typical Walmart vacay staples.  Literally, right across the street but it doesn’t matter.   I have been to the bakery four times in two weeks but low oxygen zaps how good food looks and tastes.  Either that or it is just too much trouble to chew.  It’s like you can’t do two things at once in Utah because there is no good thick airflow.  So you either breathe or eat cupcakes and when it comes down to those two, I will breathe.  Visiting Utah is the best diet tool I have ever known.
And Utahans have an unusual way of speaking.  They end their sentences fast.  They will be talking a normal speed and then at the end of whatever it is they are saying, they speed up and shorten the last word.  They cut the last word in half each and every time.  I think they are running out of breath.
The whole altitude thing is a big adjustment.  But I am startin to get the hang of it.  This trip after two weeks, I was at least able to walk my skinny self to the bathroom to brush my teeth without getting dizzy.




 

BATMAN LOOKS LIKE A BAD GUY

Kids do say the darnedest things as Art Linkletter proved with his popular sixties comedy hour.  Interviewing five and six year olds gave the viewing public a howl of laughter with their knee jerk reactions.  The innocent answers Mr. Linkletter plucked from the contestants and their gap tooth smiles was genuine reality TV.

   The holidays bring an abundance of little people stories from the youth that is our familial future.

   My three year old niece is a big fan of Super Heroes.
   She can see right through Batman and his suspicious leather mask and sweeping black cape as she describes her observations to my sister.

   "You know Nanna, Batman looks like a bad guy but really, he is very nice."

   I wonder if she has noticed anything in particular about Robin.

WHO'S GONNA RIDE IN BACK WITH GRANNY?

Fresh fall air puts Chase in a good mood and he decides to buy us a new family vehicle. This is what happened.

   I am not one to really care what kind of car I drive as long as it is safe and sound.  I don't like the SUV types because they feel the wind more, so other than that, Chase has free rein to shop and buy whatever his heart desires. 

   After a couple weeks of Internet shopping, tonight after supper, he leaves to go pick up the new car, while I do dishes and eye my laptop, that is beckoning me to write.

   Within the hour our daughter takes his call as he excitedly tells us to come outside.  He will be driving up shortly in our new family vehicle, that is a complete surprise and his excitement is contagious.  We immediately go out front and wait.

   The three of us are lined up in the yard. 

   Our son, who is 6ft2inches, our daughter, just shy of 5ft8inches , and me 5ft6inches, eagerly awaiting our brand new ride.

  All eyes are searching the street, then at once, we see a snow white pick up truck rolling our way in the early evening light.

   While Chase turns the truck up our drive, I feel the puzzlement of my kids thought process, because it is the same as mine. There is a single cab.  He bought a truck with a single cab.  It is a beautiful new Ford 150. 

  We have four members in our family and more times than not, my mother rides with us.  Our new family car, seats three.

   As Chase emerges from the truck, our son speaks.

   "Nice truck dad.  Who's gonna ride in back with Granny?"   

  

BANGIN OUT THE BUMPER

I can bang out the dent in the bumper, but there ain't a hammer made, that is big enough to bang out what is wrong with him.

THE DOG HEAD COUNT FOR THANKSGIVING

The road trip for Thanksgiving promises to be extra entertaining if we don't get this dog situation under control.

   The whole family, teenager included, five dogs and my mother, in one vehicle?

   This conjures up a colorful vision of mayhem on the Florida Turnpike.

SOMEBODIES GOTTA GO!

OK, at this point it is five dogs too many!
   And somebodies gotta go.

   Nobody's gonna get hurt, a no-kill shelter, or Pet Smart or something.  But somebodies gotta go.

   After four days and four hours of five dogs, the two sweet puppy visitors are still in the front yard.  And the two that may be headed to the shelter, ain't  walkin on four legs!