Your Legacy

I am having a nice walk down memory lane going back through the old Life of a Southern Belle posts.  Came across this one, and as I have been doing a bit of digging on Ancestry.com this morning, it seemed appropriate:

SUNDAY, JUNE 30, 2013

Back on Easter Sunday, Legare leaned over to me before church started and pointed out a memorial to a church member long gone on to glory. There are a number of such on the walls on both sides of the sanctuary. He remarked that he hoped to be remembered similarly…and I have to agree. I’d like to be remembered this way as well…

What say you?

Next Steps

I read a lot. There is a magazine app on my iPad where I can read 50+ magazines each month for $9.99.  That is a pretty sweet deal.  I have become an enthusiastic patron of our local county library system. Our move has put us squarely in a “food desert” but as far as the written word is concerned, life is good.

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Busyness has been on my mind over the last few days. The article…one that I cannot remember where I read it…was about the “glorification of busy.” In a nutshell, that people these days seem to be in a constant contest about who has the most hectic life…i.e., the person who is the busiest wins some invisible impressive and coveted prize or badge of honor. And it goes beyond the physical acts of a running around like a chicken with your head cut off calendar…this point of pride also includes the multi-tasking crazy busy taxing of one’s mind. I’ve been in that crazy busy loop. Who among us has not? SERIOUSLY…if you have NOT ever been in a crazy busy loop please, PRETTY PLEASE, respond to let me know for YOU, my friend, are the one who deserves the prize. 

There are no prizes or badges of honor. Heck bang (as Mother would say), you are not likely to be shown even a smidgen of recognition. You have to have a love and passion for your work deep down in your heart. The love and passion are your badges of honor.

I am still pondering my next steps post-retirement from my 35 year career as an educator, and here is what I know in no particular order:

  1.  Completion of our new home.
  2.  Clemson football
  3.  Finding a new church home
  4.  Watching the cotton grow
  5.  Watching the tide go in and out
  6.  Buying baby boy things…because WE ARE HAVING A GRANDBABY!!

After December 3, or thereabouts, you can call me Lala.  (Because I am too young to be called Grandma!)

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A Chicken Frying Failure

I started my old blog, Life of a Southern Belle, way back in March of 2008, as Lorelai was preparing to graduate from high school and Legare from college.  I’ve been back in the kitchen here lately trying new recipes and reviving some old ones. As I was preparing BBQ chicken tonight, I thought about this old post…A Chicken Frying Failure…from back in the day.  I am sad to say that it still rings true!

(From Life of a Southern Belle, July 2008)

We were reminiscing last night about some of my early culinary mishaps when Hank and I first got married. I still cannot fry “real” chicken…that is, chicken on the bone. Over the years I’ve learned to do pretty well with chicken tenders…soak them in Texas Pete, shake them up in self rising flour with some salt and pepper, fry them in the deep fryer until nice and golden brown. Yummmmmmmmy! They are one of Legare’s favorites.

I don’t like to think that I’ve ever been a disappointment to anyone, save a nice sweet lowcountry grandma…not my own, thank goodness. WAY back in the day when I was a fresh-faced newly married 21 year old first year high school music teacher, one of my students, a great big football playernamed Abe, overheard me lamenting to another teacher that I just could NOT fry chicken to save my life. On my first attempt, I dredged it in corn meal (a la fried fish) rather than flour, and bless Hank’s sweet heart, he tried to eat it, but it was scorched on the outside and raw in the middle. I’d seen the error of my ways regarding the corn meal, but dredging it flour didn’t produce any better result. The next time it was done in the middle and soggy on the outside.

It had never occured to Abe that a grown woman might not be able to fry chicken and this new information troubled him. He showed up the next morning (a Friday) with instructions from his grandmama written down in pencil on paper yanked out of a spiral notebook. His expectation, and hers as well, was thatI would practice over the weekend and report back on Monday morning. I was young and used to following instructions from my elders so I did just that. If we’d had a smoak alarm back then, which we didn’t, it would have gone off twice. When I messed it up on Saturday morning, I went back to the grocery store and started all over again on Sunday. It was sad…I wanted to cry…How was I going to report back to Abe and his grandma that I had failed?!

Abe was at my door before school started on Monday morning for a full report. He shook his head in disappointment as I spared not a single detail of my efforts…there was no denying that I was a Chicken Frying Failure. On Tuesday morning, there was a message in my box to call Abe’s grandma. She made me recount my process step by step and told me to try again. My report on Wednesday was no better. On Thursday afternoon, she showed up in the office with a tin plate of fried chicken (still to this day the best I’ve ever had) for Hank’s supper. She’d rallied the troops and another grandma was there with a macaroni pie…the school secretary brought broccoli casserole and the custodian’s wife sent a banana pudding. They were afraid that Hank was starving.
703337_10200271338565274_1036945873_oI eventually mastered the macaroni pie, broccoli casserole and banana pudding (see photographic evidence above), but I remain, to this day, a REAL Chicken Frying Failure. Thank goodness for chicken tenders.

Just In Time

IMG_3075Recalibration.  This is what retirement should be called…recalibration. It’s not bad. Just different. I wrote a blog post, made a pound cake, and shelled peas from our VERY OWN GARDEN on Sunday. I picked up groceries from Walmart on Monday and binge watched Hart of Dixie. (You’re just RIVETED, aren’t you….so much excitement?)

I got busy on Tuesday.  As you may or may not know, I had a lovely grand piano that Mother gave to me when we purchased our first home in 1983. The floor plan of the new house does not have a separate living room, which was my music room in both of our previous homes. We sold the grand and now that the new house is far enough along, I was able to verify what I believed would be the perfect place for an upright piano. Tuesday morning I rode down to Fox Music House and picked out my new piano and it is a beauty…satin ebony and plays like a dream. And I shelled peas.

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On July 4, our friend Ted came over to eat and binge watch a few episodes of Downton Abby.  Then more Hart of Dixie while shelling peas after he headed home. And today…DAY 5…Legare and Robert stopped by on their way back to Raleigh from Charleston. I fixed a big mid-day dinner (featuring some of those peas I’ve been shelling) and we had a short, but lovely visit before they headed back out.

So to sum it all up…I have prepared (and eaten) a lot of food, shelled a big old mess of peas that just keep on appearing in the basket on the kitchen counter, spent a bunch of money, and watched too much television.

Truthfully though, I kind of enjoy shelling those peas. I have sweet memories of sitting on the porch at the river on summer afternoons with my grandmother shelling beans and peas. And I love having time to be back in the kitchen planning and cooking wonderful meals for friends and family to enjoy.  I’ve missed having the time/energy to do that these last few years. And getting the piano squared away is just one small part of the grand plan that is to curate a collection of things that Hank and I both love for our new home.  AND, if you are a Daughter of the South and have not ever watched Hart of Dixie, you can find it on Netflix. I declare, I KNOW most of the characters and bet that you might too. Heck, you might even see yourself in one or two of them…I know I do.

I think that retirement, and the general recalibration of life that comes with retirement, got here JUST in time.

 

 

The Retirement is Real

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Today is July 1.  I am retired.

After 35 years of working as an educator, or piano teacher, or church organist, or choir director…OR sometimes all of the above at the SAME time…I am RETIRED!

It feels odd. Not bad. Just odd.

My husband and friends who have been retired awhile tell me that the oddness will pass.  I look forward to that. I didn’t work the last seven days of my contract. I had days that I could take and felt like I ought to get out of the way of the WONDERFUL person they hired as my replacement. She going to be a terrific principal!

So…how long before I stop waking up in the middle of the night thinking about what I have to do at work the next day?