Giradelli Apocalypse.....

       I love a good magazine. Decorating, Lifestyle, Women's, Food, Travel (OK, fine....I will admit to the guilty pleasure of sometimes enjoying a gossip rag too). In the throes of our "New Normal" household state of  economics, one of the first of the"luxury items" to be cut was magazine purchasing. That might explain my tendency to take some time glancing at the offerings on the big magazine rack at the Teeter when shopping day rolls around. Today was a treat....all of the new magazines had been shelved - Southern Living, Womens Day, Better Homes and Gardens....all with the most beautiful covers. Flowers and gardens and picnic blankets replete with lovely springtime food on fancy picnicware....(Never mind the fact that outside the big plate glass windows you could see big snowflakes blowing in the wind....). As I tried to decide which beauty to peruse,  I came across a brightly colored magazine....High quality paper, beautiful fonts, lovely name....Peach Days.....I think my eyes knew that something was not quite right before my brain did.Upon closer inspection, the graphic on the front of the cover was a  smattering of survivalist tools, and under the Magazine title was the heading "Apocalypse Survival guide". Having just read a novel called A Second Later (or A Second After...I can't quite remember)  - my mind was already a little fried in regards to the whole survivalist thing. It revolves around the detonation of an EMP...you know, the kind of bomb that wipes out all electronics of any kind. It was not a terrifically written book, but it sure as heck was gripping. So much so, that I have spent  a lot of time in the past week thinking about how we would survive such a thing. Starvation, keeping warm, sanitary issues, transportation (All the batteries in vehicles were fried....in the book, I mean).
     As I picked up the magazine - I thought to myself that just the main article in this months issue must deal with surviving....but no! This fancy, somewhat snooty looking magazine - in. it's. entirety. - was devoted to Apocalyptic living. Picture of shelters that people have made preparatory to the commencement of Armageddon, Recipes for "Refuse Dining",Charts to help you determine which plants and berries will kill you, and which ones will just make you sick, How to acquire clothing, How to hide and defend yourselves....the more I read - the more freaked out I grew! I hastily reshelved the thing, and grabbed up a Southern Living......the periodical devoted to the opposite of Apocalyptic living! But by now, I am tainted. All the beautiful container gardens and raised beds full of Annuals pictured therein seemed a waste.....
quick - plant a survival garden in that elaborate ceramic planter.....that beautiful place setting on the back
veranda - those cloth napkins could be used for bandages if need be. That lovely recipe for Shrimp and Grits....what exactly IS the refuse conversion? That article on serene river vacations? Is that a little cave I spy, in the curve of the river - there in the rocky face of the bank? It could be used for Apocalyptic hunkering down.....
    I fling the Southern Living down - now ruined for me, at least for the day. As I shuffle my buggy towards the checkout - I pass a display of Easter Chocolate. Considering that I am on my fifth day of the Atkins Diet, THAT certainly took my mind off of all things Apocalyptic....until I remembered that yesterday, I turned down the offer of a free piece of  Giradelli chocolate from the sales pitch man in WalMart......If THAT doesn't indicate the immediate onset of the Apocalypse, I don't know what does!!

Sunday Afternoon - Memory in the Making....

     They're all in there. If I look over my left shoulder, I can see them now as I sit here at the computer. About 30 minutes ago, I came into a state of wakefulness - eyes closed, snuggled under a quilt with Crackhouse Puppy (whose new name is Cinderblock because he weighs a ton!) asleep on my lap. I had napped so hard, on this - the First day of Daylight Savings Time, that it took me a few minutes to gather myself. We had slept so long that the T.V. had even shut itself off, due to inactivity. In the quiet of my dark little den, as I lay stretched out in the recliner, I listened for the sounds I love above all others - sounds that alerted me to the location of my loved ones. There was a stretchy, moany sound - Baby Girl must be sleeping on the sofa. Next came a chuffing kind of sound - Babiest girl was in the recliner next to mine. After a moment, I heard the sound that is so often missing here lately.....the thick sleepy throat clearing of College Boy. This was the catalyst that made my eyes open....we were all out of surfaces by my reckoning - sofa, and both recliners full of the Kennedy women. I released the lever on the LaZBoy, shoved the puppy off of my lap and sat up, thinking to find College Boy sitting in the kitchen - on the computer or some such. Just as I stood (no easy chore, since my feet were tangled in quilt and puppy), I heard it again - the same throat clearing that he has made in his sleep since before he could talk in complete sentences. Lo and behold - there he was....wrapped in the green afghan my Sister crocheted me for a wedding present - almost 25 years ago. College Boy was sleeping on the floor in front of the sofa - at the feet of Baby Girl.    
     That sight took me back to the days when child rearing was a full contact sport, and a nap was an unheard of thing. The time when my exhaustion was blinding, and the days ran together in their fullness. The days when the three Kennedy children would go at full speed - from the time their little feet hit the floor (and Lord knows they were all obscenely early risers), until they had each been wrestled into their respective beds for the umpteenth time. Every now and then, as a treat, they were allowed to sleep in the den on a pallet. Blanket piled on top of blanket, pillows from every room in the house - their nest was sumptuous and cozy. On these nights, they were eager to go to bed. There, on the floor of the den they would snuggle and whisper, giggle and dream out loud, until sleep came over them by surprise. They would lay like a tangle of puppies - arms and legs draped over each other - with no clear definition of where one body stopped and the other began. Sometime in the night, each time -I would come out of my bedroom, turn on the light in the kitchen and steal into the den. I would sit in a chair and watch them sleep, in the crack of light that spilled in from the kitchen. I would listen to their sleeping sounds, memorize their faces, and store those memories away for such a time as I might need them....like when they were off to college and driving and babysitting and other such big kid pursuits.
         But today, I do not need that memory - because they are all in there, making their sleeping sounds, wearing the sleepy faces, and needing to be awakened - otherwise, they will never sleep tonight. John will be home from work soon, and we will all sit down to breakfast for supper - a Sunday night favorite. The girls will play hookey from Youth, and we will go to the dollar movie - The Life of Pi, I think. I give thanks for Spring Break - for the week that we have before us to once again be a family of five. I give thanks that my growndy up Boy will still sleep at his sister's feet, that my children love each other. I give thanks for the guitars leaning up against the cabinets, and the myriad shoes strewn hither and yon, upstairs and down. I give thanks for the clementine peels that are piled on the kitchen counter, and the open door letting in the clean air that smells of sunshine and the promise of spring. I give thanks for the memory in the making, in my darkened den, dirty dishes and all...........now, if I could just have that hour back.......