I had no idea Father was snapping that photo in the header. I’m guessing I was about 12, there. His comedic caption on the back states only: “Here’s Carol, doing her utmost to catch anything!” A photo nearly 50 years later shows me still not entrusting all to the pole. Guess I always keep a finger on the line!
I’m a Catholic Irish Miigmao. Yep, the worst kind — whatever doesn’t bark and bite dares its tempting.
I’ve been active in two parishes — you name it, I’ve served in it, taught it or chaired it. The parish is the extended family, after all. Not that there’s been any disowning on either side, but I have backed well up and let others have some fun in all that.
I was also active in our soup kitchen, Birthright and in many community and school doings. I’ve also tutored under-abled people. My main career was as administrative assistant, and in later life, I became a LNA. It was too much later in life, but I loved it. Old people are strangely lovable. Probably because they’re still people. 🙂
I’m a mom of four (two and two, 12 years apart on the short end, 17 on the long), semi-mom of others, and grandmother of many. Married for the second time, to a former Webelo Scout Leader, after the annulment was granted by the Diocese (which seriously made me whoop!). I’m telling you, ladies, avoid any guy whom 10-year old boys like and respect. You’ll fall hard. Especially if he dares wear the ant costume at the Scouts’ Halloween party while carrying a papier-mache world through the back door of the school because it was too big to fit through the front. It’s too much to resist. He’s an Irish Catholic ornery cuss (sez me), and a carpenter/cabinetmaker/housebuilder who has left bone fragments here and there at two job sites. Indeed, I think he might be made out of steel, too.
I’m never saying goodbye again to anything or anyone — I’ll only pray an Our Father with them — so I have no pets, now. The adult kids who are living with us for now have a cat and a dog. Those critters, and the wee things that gather out at our birdfeeder pole — which occasionally attracts foxes — and the raptors and herons and beavers of a river are “pets” enough. One winter, our biggest hemlock sheltered a wild lady pheasant, to whom I brought aquarium rocks (for aiding digestion) along with food and water daily. No, it doesn’t get any better than seeing a gorgeous bird peek back at you. Okay, maybe it does, but I was able to say goodbye to her.
And I love to fish, yes. I don’t love to catch anything– I just love to fish. We all should. Fish need a challenge, not to even mention those stinkin’ crabs. And lake swimming — well, that’s straight from heaven, isn’t it? Year-round, though, the ocean is my mentor, tabernacle, and freshener. I could not possibly live without her. Then again, I didn’t think I could live without Manny — and I still don’t like it, but Big Papi makes up for a lot of things!
Well, perhaps a mid-2016 update is in order?
The cat departed forevermore (trying hard not to replace her), and the little dog won Dad’s custody and off she went, too. That leaves Bakie (Bacon) the mega-swishy trout-sized goldfish.
Big Papi is retiring after this season. Well, after Pedro, Johnny, Manny, Jacoby and so many others gone, whom does that leave but Pedroia and Bogaerts (and our great pitchers). When Ortiz goes, I go. It’s been fun, guys. Thanks for breaking the curse. Twice. 😉
Two moved out, 3.5 moved in (grandson is half-time). There’ll be a new resident come this Halloween or so, but s/he won’t take up much room.
I left a cleaning job I really liked to return to a less physical evening nursing assistant/supper cook position in a 16-bed house. Too many overseers in my face (I loved the residents), though, so after 3 months, I returned to the (even more, now) uber-physical job that is eating up my right leg. I don’t know how long I can do this, but the (overseer-less) view there and to and fro as well as the few folks I see each night whom I like a lot are worth my trying to stay until we can get the job volume lessened somehow.
I’m not even pretending to edit my poetry book-to-be. Everyone around here thinks we’re old and fixin’ to fall apart, so I’ve been trying to lighten their someday-cleanout load. Great strides have not been made. But I’m hopeful. Maybe those 3 words should go on my headstone. (Uh, about 30 years from now, thank you very much!)
Enjoy your visit to “Relax..” — I’ll just be over there, pretending to clean out some closet or cabinet or corner. 😉