"New" Sports

 Recess in the 1950's (as I remember it) consisted of "Jacks" and jumping rope for the girls and "Softball" for the boys. The doors into our Grade School were segregated by gender, so likewise, was recess. Maybe softball was considered to risky for females, but I honestly remember sitting on the sidewalk, during recess, doing nothing more athletic than catching a little ball before it bounced, and trying not to get hit or tripped by a rope.  "Teddy Bear,Teddy Bear turn around. Teddy Bear, Teddy Bear touch the ground......"

After we matured a bit, say fifth grade, I do remember a co-ed softball game or two. We ladies hated it. Many of us had never played softball, and I did (as my father consistently told me) "throw like a girl".

When my children were in grade school, the kids played a game called "Kickball". I believe that all the kids played., regardless of gender. Talk about the perfect recess game! The only equipment you needed was a big rubber playground ball and a foot! Cheap! Each of my sons told me that they were the best Kickball player, in their respective classes. They loved the game.

So, 30 or 40 years pass, and what do I see, as I drive by a large urban park, on my trips into downtown Kansas City? Organized adult Kickball Games being played. Every Sunday, there are league games and often tournaments for big folks playing Kickball. Apparently, besides the foot and ball, the only other things you need to join in the fun, is money to register and matching shirts! The generations who played recess Kickball, are doing it again.

Who knew that something so old fashioned and simple could become such a great activity? Simple rules...roll the ball, kick the ball, run like crazy. Great exercise.......very little blood spilled.

Terrific. Great idea, but don't expect me to sit cross-legged on concrete trying to catch that tiny ball again (or get back up, either)!

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Merciful Lord. Thank you for the joy of life. Each day is a blessing.

Dirty New Adventures

 Leaving our city vehicles in the garage, the two seniors ventured out today, to visit the wilds of the Midwest. We chose to travel in a  big old Pick-em-up Truck (as we say here in the Heartland).  It was an ethereal day. Sunshine, fluffy white clouds and not a raindrop in sight, for the last two days.

We traveled South, until we reached our destination, a farm in SE Kansas. Pulling past the gate, onto a gravel (or as we say in Kansas, "chat" ) road, it occurred to me that this area had experienced a bit more rainfall than we had  measured in Kansas City. I thought to myself, "Gee I bet this land floods, easily."

A few more yards and we were stuck. really stuck. Our passengers, dismounted, and started up the hill to fire up the tractor, hoping to pull the pick-up out of the mud.  In the meantime, I climbed down and waited by the side of the road for rescue.

Then, I attempted to follow the path of our passengers, but soon found I could not wade through the puddles in the road. So I waited, standing still amid the chiggers and ticks, for rescue. 

Meanwhile the driver, of the truck, managed to get the truck moving forward (don't even think...without Nancy's weight in the cab), slinging black gooey mud globs in my hair, on my clothes and face. Turning around, I got the same treatment on my backside.  

Then, with the utmost skill, our driver got the truck turned around, stopped to pick me up and we headed to higher ground.

Back on the road, I picked caked  mud out of my hair, off my cloths and face. What an experience! 

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Dear God. Life seems to be either a smooth 4-lane highway or a muddy, impassable country road. Be with us always as we travel the ever changing roads of life. Into every life a little mud must be slung.

Choosing New Words

 I'm done complaining about being, talking and thinking old. I am what I am and it is what it is. I'm much happier when I am thinking, acting on and talking about new things.

New Words: Don't we all need to add a few new words to our vocabularies? Using the same words, again and again makes them over-said and over-written.  That's dull reading and listening.The last word I tried adding to my word bank, was "plethora". However, excess isn't my style, so I don't have or do, a whole lot of anything, on a daily basis. So, I although I am using the word plethora, on occasion, I'm not using it in a plethora of instances. It's just not fitting into my daily speech or writing.

So, my latest new word in "ethereal". I don't think it's too common. Actually, I had to figure out how to spell and pronounce it. It means, exceptionally beautiful. Because, I have a plethora a beautiful things going on in my life, right now, I figure I can use "ethereal" often. It will become a word in my vocabulary, in no time.

For instance, my newly planted flower and vegetable garden is "ethereal". The backyard pond and it's surroundings, are "ethereal" in Springtime. And, my latest crochet project was described as gorgeous. So isn't that interchangeable with "ethereal"?. There you go. Used my new vocabulary word thrice in the same paragraph.

Thrice is also an ethereal word! I'm on a roll.

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Gracious God. Life is beautiful. Totally ethereal.

Older than Dirt

 Obsolete. More and more, my life is becoming obsolete. Because of my advancing age, things that I like to do and words that I choose, make very little sense, to anyone but me. 

For instance, I love to crochet. It soothes my spirit and it gives me pleasure to "gift" my handmade items. My current project, is dishrags. Okay, they are not rags, but that's what my Grandmother called them. That's what I call them. They are not dishtowels. Dishtowels are or were, SMOOTH cotton towels used to dry dishes or wipe wet hands. Those cotton towels were not the Terry Cloth ones of the modern era. They actually dried dishes better than Terry Cloth. But then, who still dries dishes? Dishrags, incidentally, are for wiping down counters and cleaning off dirty dishes.

Or, have you told anyone, recently, to move in a "counterclockwise"direction? Don't bother. Most folks, in their twenties or younger, have no idea what direction that would be. You can say the same for "clockwise". They all have used digital clocks their entire life. And, don't ask them to read a clock with hands, or decipher text written in cursive.

Which brings me to handwritten notes. Nobody does it anymore. A letter isn't instant communication, so when you can text, IM or email, why waste time and money on postage. And, unfortunately the USPS seems to be getting slower and more inefficient, every day.

I've already written a story about Pee OHH nies, Flags (Iris) and Decoration Day. All no longer voiced terms. These words have gone the way of roller skate keys, nickel cokes, pay phones and cash. And, speaking of cash. I can no longer put a twenty in the church collection plate. I can, however, hold my phone up towards the huge screen, above the Altar, click a button or two and send money to the church, electronically.

So, let me know how many dishrags you need. Include your choice of color/s.

Jeeze, I'm old.

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Gray hair is okay. Wrinkles, not so much. But, I know that with each passing year, I continue to be blessed.

Thank you for life.