refrigerators are not always cold

my daughter long a-

go

gave me words for my

fridge.


the words are mag-

netic

and you scramble them a-

round to make

poems.


poems that don't rhyme but

neither does

a

heart.


poems that didn't get

writ-

ten

for 5

years.

they hung there,

empty on the

fridge,

without a happy poet to

compose.


the words thought about not moving to

georgia.

they thought about going to the

dumpster, along with

so many

other

bro-

ken

dreams.


but the words hopped in

my

car.

barrelled down the

high-

way. flew in

the

house. landed on

a

southern

fridge.


it's like they got

CPR or

somethin.

like i married a man who

may have been emerson in

a-

nother

life.


it's like the words wrote

them-

selves in his

heart,

onto

mine,


and the fridge is finally warm


a-

gain.

how many days does it take the IRS to change a light bulb?

i owed the IRS $49.82 last year and so rather than debiting my checking account in the amount of $49.82, which would have been the intelligent and careful thing to do, the IRS tried to debit it in the amount of $49,820. and it was declined. because i didn't have $49,820 in my checking account. and so the IRS sent me a letter - very fast -  saying i was in default and now, in addition to the $49,820 that i owe them, i owe them penalty fees, too.

so, i appealed.

after 45 days, i got a letter from the IRS saying they need another 45 days to continue their investigation of this.

so, i waited.

after 45 days, i got another letter from the IRS saying they need another 45 days to continue their investigation of this.

so, i waited.

45 days/another letter.

waited.

45/letter.



meanwhile, michelle obama wants the USDA to weigh children in daycare to see if they're fat and if they are, by golly, they're gonna fix it. right now.



my government, which is not my government at. all. is horrifyingly screwed up.

nice

1. they're nice here in georgia. at least this part of georgia.
2. the lady at the DMV (they call it the DDS here. wonder what they call dentists.....)........the lady at the DDS was nice as pie. nice as whatever your particular favorite kind of pie happens to be. that nice.
3. the man who worked at the first grocery store i went to down here was nice. he insisted on carrying my groceries to the car. insisted. i suppose that would get some feminists all up in arms but instead of getting mad (or even), i let him do it. and as we walked to my car, i learned that he was originally from ohio, too. he was born and raised in tiffin. i said to him, tiffin? that's where heidelberg college is, isn't it? and he said, "i don't think anyone since i have lived here has ever asked me that question. how nice. and yes, it's where heidelberg college is. except it's heidelberg university now. i kinda liked it better when it was heidelberg college." i told him that i graduated from wittenberg university which used to be wittenberg college before it was wittenberg university and that i kinda like wittenberg college better, too. he said, as he put my groceries in the trunk, "it's been so nice talkin' to a buckeye."
4. the woman who cut my hair today was nice. the minute i saw her, i liked her. and she told me as i was leaving that the minute she saw me, she liked me, too. and i could tell she wasn't lying.
5. the lady at the car wash was nice. she dried my car off, without me even asking. i know that she was no doubt hoping for a tip - and i gave her one - but i look at it like this: she dried my car off.
6. the 19-year old kid who was at the hair salon at the same time i was, getting his hair cut, said, "you're 60??????? you look 40!" true, people in ohio have said similar things to me before. but not with such a nice southern accent.
7. rudy's next door neighbors sat down with rudy and me and just started talking like we had known each other a long time. maybe not like we had known each other forever - but for a long time.
8. the guy at toast, a wine store here in town (great name for a wine store, by the way), upon showing him my ohio driver's license, said, "ohio? wow. that's a long way to come for wine," and i said, well, i sort of moved here, and he said, "when?" and i said, a coupla weeks ago, and he said, "welcome. i hope we georgians always treat you right."
9. two of rudy's friends have invited me to have lunch with them. and one of them offered to help me find a job. and they haven't even met me yet.
10. you just about can't get to any place down here without driving on washington road. which is nice. because george washington was nice. or, maybe he wasn't. but i like to think he was. so, for all intents and purposes, he was.
11. but the nicest thing of all about georgia is that rudy is nicer than all of these things put together.

is this why nancy drew wrote "the secret in the old attic?"

attics are usually small, hot,and full of stuff like family Bibles, vinyl records, old photographs, and newspaper clippings about woodstock or the day jfk died. if you're lucky, there's a mannequin or two up there or maybe one of those headless human-like things that seamstresses and tailors use to hang the clothes they're sewing onto. or, if you're really lucky, like kevin from "home alone," there's a life-sized michael jordan up there. just in case you ever need to make it look from the street like that there's somebody in your living room. so don't try breakin' in.

attics also are places that hold all the things that when you ask somebody like your mom or your dad or your grandma or grandpa, "whatever happened to (fill-in-the-blank)," they'll say, "i dunno, it's prob'ly in the attic." and when you go up there to see, sure enough, there it is. even if you do have to dig around awhile to find it.

attics are usually nothing but a bunch of unfinished boards and wires and pipes and pink insulation and their unfinished, raw selves represent everything that's right with the world and how, in spite of our materialistic american selves, we can still sometimes manage to get our priorities right:

attics are humble not proud, simple not fancy. it's the rare attic that has felt the need to upgrade to marble countertops.

attics preserve precious memories, most of them family-related. if you go back downstairs after a visit to the attic, nine times out of ten, the family's not there. because they're out playing golf or over at the mall.

attics don't care what kind of faucets the rest of the house has or how hip and cool the color scheme is. all an attic cares about is whether or not it kept your sentimental things intact and the dust to a relative minimum.

they spend countless days and nights unvisited (and in many cases, unremembered), guarding precious mementos and the family "jewels." they don't get much attention or consideration and when someone does go up there, it's not so much to say hi to the attic as it is to go up as fast as you can, find what you came up here for, and get the heck back downstairs as fast as you can. because it's hot up there and who wants to be hot.

but the attic doesn't get angry. the attic says, thanks for dropping by and, see you next time.

attics are faithful. they are faithful servants - if not of God then at least of us. and we ought to give them a little more respect.
 


yesterday, rudy and i went up to the attic in his - our - house and although his - our - attic isn't small (it's actually huge) and although it isn't hot (it's actually quite cool and comfortable), it's still an attic. and it's still the watchman for years and years of a life - soon to be two lives - well-lived, worth remembering, and worth preserving.



the supremes told us to "go up the ladder to the roof" and the drifters before them sang about the glories of being "up on the roof." i think both of them were right - the roof is a great and open-sky place to be. but don't bypass the attic on your way to the roof. the roof may have a spectacular view of heaven,

but the attic holds generations of reasons why being on earth can be pretty heavenly, too.

the lady on the side of the road with the 2 upside down chairs

there's an older lady who sits out beside a road here in evans, georgia almost every afternoon. all afternoon. 

the road she sits by is a pretty busy one; too busy to really slow down and get a good look at her. which maybe you would want to do so you could try and figure out what she's sitting out there for. like it's any of your business.

she sits on a folding lawn chair and she has another folding lawn chair next to her. she sets a bunch of stuff on that one. i don't know what it all is. when she's not out there sitting, she turns the chairs upside down. and they sit there, waiting for her to come back and turn them like they're supposed to be.

behind her is a long, narrow red dirt road, surrounded by woods on both sides and leading, presumably, to her house. waaaaaaaaaaay back in there somewhere.

or maybe she lives in a tent.



i told rudy that i would like to stop and talk to her sometime. that maybe she's lonely or maybe she's depressed and maybe she sits out there so she can have a little company, watching the cars go by. rudy said he thought that sounded like a good idea - me stopping and talking to her sometime, that is.


sometime came today.


me (walking towards her with my hands up): excuse me, ma'm, i'm safe. i'm not here to hurt you.
lady: (doesn't say anything. which includes not saying "get out." so i didn't.)
me: i know this probably seems strange to you - it seems a little strange to me, too, to tell you the truth - but, well.......well, first of all, hi. my name is nancy.
lady: (doesn't say anything. still doesn't say "get out," though.)
me: well, um, so, yeah. my name is nancy. and i just moved here not quite 2 weeks ago. from ohio. and, well. well, i've driven up and down this road a lot since i got here and, well, i see you out here a lot.
lady: (doesn't say anything.)
me (feeling ridiculous): well. anyway. i just sorta wondered, you know, if maybe you were, i don't know, lonely or something. and maybe that's why you sit out here. to watch the cars go by and stuff. and maybe have a little company. i don't know. i just wondered that. and, well, maybe this is awful forward of me but, well, i don't know. i thought maybe i'd stop and see if you wanted someone to talk to.
lady: name's margaret (not her real name).
me: well, hi. hi, margaret. i'm happy to meet you.
margaret: (nods her head. not much, but it was a nod.)
me: so. well. ah. yeah. anyway............i just wanted to stop and say hi.
margaret: ok.
me: so, well. ok. nice meeting you. (i start to turn to walk back to my car.....)
margaret: i sit out here waiting for the mail.
me: oh! oh! well! i hadn't thought of that. (but i didn't believe that story. at least not entirely. sit out all afternoon everyday, waiting for the mail?)
me: well.
margaret (doesn't say anything).
me: well, ok. good. good. i'm glad you're not out here because you're lonely. good.
margaret (doesn't say anything).
me: well. it was nice meeting you. i guess i'll get out of your way now. nice meeting you, ma'm.
margaret: you don't have to go.
me: oh. well. okay.
margaret (doesn't say anything).
me (trying to remember my social work skills and how to engage people who are difficult to engage): so (pointing down the long red road), do you live back there?
margaret: yep.
me: looks like it'd be nice. back there in the woods.
margaret: till everybody gets to fussin' and carryin' on.
me: ah. yes. until then.
margaret: gits to me sometimes. y'know?
me: i think i do. i'm a social worker. i've seen all kinds of fussin' and carryin' on.
margaret: you work around here?
me: no. not yet. i haven't been down here very long. but i hope to get a job soon.
margaret: you'll get one.
me: i sure hope you're right.
margaret (almost smiling): i'm right.
me: well. thank you. 
margaret: no trouble.
(a few awkward seconds pass)
me: well. so. i guess i better get going. it sure was nice to meet you, margaret.
margaret: nice to meet you, too. nancy.
me: see you around?
margaret: i'll be here.
me: k. well, bye.
margaret: bye.

i walk back to my car and open the door to get in. i turn to wave to margaret.



and she's already waving to me. 









 

life in georgia so far

it's hard to get a driver's license here.

i had to show them my divorce decrees, my marriage certificate, my social security card with my former name, my social security card with my current name, my passport, and my current ohio license. i showed them all that and then they said, we need proof that you live here in georgia. i said, other than standing here looking at you, i don't have proof. they said, bring us your lease. i said, i don't have a lease. they said, bring us your mortgage. i said, my husband has the mortgage....i just married him....and he lives in georgia, which is why i'm standing here in georgia looking at you....and the mortgage is in his name. they said, that's not good enough. i said, i figured.

they said, bring us something that came in the mail to you here in georgia. i said two things, one, i haven't gotten much mail here in georgia and two, what i've gotten i've thrown the envelopes to away. (ok, so, bad grammar, but this is the DMV in georgia. how good does the grammar need to be?)

they said, don't you have anything? like a lease agreement or something? i said, we've already covered the lease thing. they said, a utility bill? i said, those are in my husband's name. they said, anything? i said, nope.

they said, well, you need to get some mail. i said, well, the next time something comes for me to my husband's and my post office box, i'll save it and bring it in to you. they said, post office box?????? a post office box isn't proof that you live here. i said, well, it's as much proof as me standing here is. they said, we can't accept stuff from a post office box. i said, well, practically nothing is going to come to my home address. because my husband prefers to use a post office box for regular mail and the home address just for stuff like packages and stuff. and it's a long time till Christmas.

they said, get somebody to send you something to your home address. i said, assuming they meant somebody official, that everyone official has been instructed to use the post office box and they said, who said anything about somebody official? and i said, well, i just assumed.....and they said, don't assume anything, it makes an (me joining in) "ass out of you and me."

and they said, get a friend or someone in your family or somebody like that to send you something. it can be anything. a card or something. and i said, are you kidding me? a friend or a family member sending me a hallmark card is considered proof to you folks that i live here in georgia and they said, sure, why not? and i said, well, what if i'm just visiting here in georgia and my friend or family member is sending me a hallmark card saying, hope you're having fun on your vacation in georgia? and they said, we don't read people's personal mail, ma'm. we need official stuff for some things and not official stuff for other things. and i said,



this is all starting to remind me of hillary clinton.

the real secret to rudy

rudy made a book for me in honor of my 60th birthday last november. it's a book of 60 things he loves about me.

he brought me a goodie bag one time when he came to columbus for the weekend. in it was one of those remote cell phone charger things, my new blue cross insurance card (thanks to him and his employer), a leather-bound book of 52 scripture verses (one for each week of the year), some chocolates, and some things i can't - or at least, won't -  mention.  :)

he drove all day on thanksgiving day, from augusta to columbus - had a chicken patty for his thanksgiving "dinner" at some fast food place along the way - just to be with me.

he proposed to me on the big screen at the planetarium, with my name and his written among the stars in the sky, and on his knee.

he opens the door for me. insists on it. pulls out my chair. insists on that. (i often forget that he wants to do these things and i start to do them myself. i have never had a man do these things for me. our feminist culture has taught me that i shouldn't want a man to do these things for me. but, i do. turns out, being treated nicely isn't so oppressive after all.)

when we're walking on the sidewalk, he makes sure he's the one closer to the traffic. turns out, being treated with chivalry isn't so oppressive after all. unless you consider being alive when your husband could possibly be dead to be oppressive.

he bought me the coolest cosmetic bag i have ever had. surprised me. no occasion. cosmetic bag. cool. for you, nancy. here you go.

i don't even know of any other man who would even recognize a cosmetic bag if it hit him in the face.

the first time i flew to augusta, he was at the airport with flowers.

he sent flowers to mark our first week anniversary.

he did all the wedding planning. all of it.

on our first night as honeymooners at the biltmore inn, he had pre-arranged for us to have the best table in the dining room. and it was killer good.

he scattered pictures of my family throughout his (our) house so that i would see them first thing when i moved here this past sunday. and would feel more at home.

since september, he has bought me about 12 thoughtful, personal gifts, not including Christmas. i can't count them all. just because i can't count them all doesn't mean you need to stop buying them, rudy.  :)

he asked the saxophonist last night at the restaurant to serenade me at our table. and he didn't just ask him - he pre-arranged it. it was all set up ahead of time. the only thing rudy needed to do was to give the guy the signal that yes, now is the time - get over here and play, dude.




rudy compliments me in a thousand ways every day. he tells me things that women want to hear - at least the women i know want to hear - and he means it. he dances on air for me. and he says he can't help it - it just happens.



but it doesn't "just happen." none of this does. here's what "just happens": rudy loves Christ.

and he puts Him first. ahead of me. way ahead of me. way ahead of everything.



with two men like that,


how in the world can i lose?

how rudy jones and ashley parks saved my life

sometimes we expect kindness from

strangers more than

we expect it

from

friends.


sometimes friends

are too

busy.


sometimes friends see you

so much

they

assume you are

there.


strangers see the

tears

in your

eyes. they notice when

your hand is out

and you

are

begging.


but friends,

even though they're in

a

hurry,

know what you're crying

about. know what you're begging

for.


know what you need.


know what you need is

olivia's picture

on the

table.


know what you need is

come home early

from

work and take you

to

dinner.


know what you need is

do what you want

with the

house.

it's

yours.


know what you need is

letters

from

what used to be

home.


but thanks to

friends,



now this


is.