There are some scenes you never forget.  For me, my mother, all 110 pounds of her, dumpster diving at a hotel on a 100 degree July day was one that left an imprint.  The housekeeper mistook my brother’s blankie for a rag and threw it in the trash.  This was life shattering for a four year old, so much so, it took Mom to extremes.

I think the resort manager was shocked to watch this tiny Southern lady not hesitate for a moment when he told her she was welcome to dig through the trash.  Thirty minutes into sorting there it was.   Some things are just that important.

Each of us has something that will take us to extremes.  I’m certain some people thought the heat had gotten to her as they watched my mother rummage in the dumpster.  What seemed ridiculous to bystanders was high priority to Mom.  

Webster defines priority as a prime concern or important consideration.  What takes precedence for one person may be low on the list for another.  And during our lifetime the priority rankings shift and change.  Things that happen to us or stages and seasons of life do that for us.

I read a story of a woman who sat down on a park bench by a man as he hollered to his son, “John, it’s about time to go.”  

“Oh please Dad, five more minutes,” the son yelled back.  

“OK son, five more minutes.”

In five minutes the man repeated himself only to hear.  “Please Dad, just five more minutes.”  

“OK son,” he answered.

Five minutes later, when the same thing happened again, the women, thinking the Dad had no control over his child, very curtly said, “You sure are a patient father.” 

The man smiled, “Last year my older son was killed by a drunk driver not far from this park.  I never really spent the time to just sit and watch him play.  What I would give for five more minutes with him.  Five minutes is nothing to me.”

Who are we to decide what’s of prime concern for someone else? Whether it’s a knotted up, ratty blanket or five more minutes, we all have priorities.

“People who pay for things never complain.  It’s the guy you give something to you can’t please.”          ~Will Rogers

It was probably one of the nicest events I’ve ever been to.  The location was one where I’d never go unless invited.  Opulent, is the only word I can think of.  It was one of those occasions you dig around in the back of the closet trying to find something appropriate to wear.

It started when the salads were served, “What is this dressing?  If it has anything but virgin olive oil in it I can’t eat it,” she said to the server.  “Do you know?”

“No Ma’am I don’t, but I’ll find out,” he said and hurried away.  Her tone of voice almost made me want to hurry.

He hadn’t been gone two minutes when the fussy lady said, “Where is that young man? You just can’t find good help these days.”  I knew then we were in for an interesting evening.

By the time the main course was served, she had complained the room was too hot, soup was too cold, the chairs were uncomfortable and asked who we were and why were we there.  Five minutes later she said, “People just don’t know how to dress for nice occasions.”  

I wondered if she was talking about me.  Maybe I should have looked further back in my closet. 

When she commented, “Can’t people be more creative,” as three layer chocolate filled cake was being served,” I could almost hear my mom saying, “well, you can’t please everyone.”

“Ha! That’s being kind.  I so badly wanted to ask this woman if she had enjoyed anything about the wonderful meal.  I didn’t.  If for nothing else couldn’t she be grateful she didn’t have to cook, she didn’t have to clean up afterwards and someone else paid for it.

I did learn one thing from the woman who could not be pleased: you may think it, but don’t say it, especially when you are someone’s guest.  It makes you look like a you-know-whatsy. 

Everything seems to run in cycles, especially fashion and politics.  Every time I think I have the fashion rules figured out, they change.  What goes out turns up in again later. I just hope balloon pants from the 80’s never resurface.  It’s the same with our elected officials.  We vote for change and a few years later we vote for change again and hope some of the politicians never show up again.  And around and around we chase.

This time of year starts another cycle.  It’s as if we’re putting everything to bed for the winter.  The grass gets cut one last time, mowers are stored, sprinkler systems are drained and flower beds are cleaned out.  For me, it’s officially fall when the hibiscus comes in the house. 

This is the 6th year she will winter in my living room.  Someone told me at the end of the summer the first year that hibiscus do well inside, so I tried it.  I refer to it as a girl because she’s kind of fancy, very temperamental and she goes through the same cycle every year.

About three days after she is inside the leaves start to turn yellow and fall off.  This goes on until she’s totally bald.  Just about the time it looks as if she has died little green buds start to appear.  Within the next six weeks she’ll be blooming again.  It’s like she pouts for a while then gets over herself and tries again.  And so it goes every year.  

I talked to a young women recently who said, “I feel like I’m stuck.  So much change has happened this year and I can’t get motivated.”  We’ve all been in that spot.  When life shifts us in to a new season or cycle it takes some time to adjust.  That’s normal and expected, but at some point we need to move on and start blooming again.

I normally don’t take a bubble bath in the morning, but I was cold and thought it would be a great way to start the day.   The only bubble liquid I could find was Johnson and Johnson lavender soothing Baby Wash.  Not fancy, but it works, the grandkids won’t mind, and no worries if it gets in my eyes.

I had to ease into the water.  I was cold to start with so it felt extra hot. I propped my head on a towel and closed my eyes.  Just as I was starting to relax, the phone rang. I was expecting a couple of important calls, but thought they wouldn’t come until later in the morning.  I hopped out of the bath leaving a trail of bubbles searching for Droid.   Wrong number!

I eased back into the tub again. I was thinking about what I needed at the grocery store and how I was going to match the ceiling paint where I changed the light fixture in the great room, when I noticed it.  Oh my gosh!  There was a nine inch square on the tile floor in front of the linen closet that was dirty.  Not just a little but, but really dirty. How had I not seen it until now?  That’s the downside of earth colored tile.

So I got out of my warm bubble cocoon, wrapped up in a towel and went after the dirt spot.  It was like pulling one weed out of the flower bed. There’s never just one weed.  Thirty minutes later the bath water was cold, I was cold, but the floor was clean.

When the kids were little I couldn’t soak in the tub because someone was always asking questions with their mouth under the door.  When they were teenagers I didn’t have time.  Now that I have a little extra time, I won’t let myself soak in the tub.  I think I’ll just stick with a shower from now on.  

It all starts in Kindergarden, “Who’s in favor of cupcakes for the Christmas party raise your hand.  OK, whose in favor of cookies raise your hand.  “The cookies win!”  Then the cupcake voters spend the next two months trying to persuade the cookie voters to come over to the cupcake side when the vote comes up for the Valentine party.

And so it goes as we grow up, just in different arenas.  But the process remains the same. The Cupcakers are positive they have the best way and the Cookie Lovers are convinced they have the only way when all of a sudden someone suggests Brownies.  Then things get real confusing, especially for the undecided. 

Whoever invented voting had a great idea.  It gives everyone a chance to express their opinion by raising their hand, marking a card or punching a ticket. Even if your candidate or proposition doesn’t win, you had the opportunity to be a part of the process.  That in itself is a privilege.

I remember the first time I voted.  I felt so responsible.  When they were little, my kids would sometimes stand in long lines with me waiting my turn to cast a ballot.  Jill was living in New York City for the first election she was old enough to vote in. I cast an early ballot and went to visit.  Voting in Manhattan is a little different from voting in rural Taney County Missouri.  

It took 45 minutes to figured out where her precinct polling location was.  When we finally made it there after getting really lost, the line was out the door, but we waited. I thought of all the times I had dragged her with me to vote and got choked up, “Jill, awww, this is the first time you get to vote.  I’m so glad I’m in town to experience this with you.”

“Umm, Mom, I know this is special and all, but please don’t ask me to stand by the voting booth so you can take a picture. OK?”  I contained myself and didn’t.

So whether you are a Cupcaker, a Cookie Lover, or a Brownie, I hope you take advantage of your privilege to vote.  You’ll be doing your part, you might run in to some neighbors you rarely see, and the stickers they hand out when you leave is always a bonus.  

Auto maintenance is complicated enough remembering oil changes, tire rotations and radiator flushes, but personal maintenance makes car maintenance look easy.  The older I get the more complicated the plan.  My friend Gary says for him, staying alive has turned into a full time job.

It seems every month some body part needs a check up.  I’m so glad the dentist, eye doc and GYN send out friendly reminders because what seems to have been a couple of months ago might have been a year ago in real time.

I schedule hair salon appointments six months at a time.  My stylist calls it a maintenance plan of sorts.  Then there is the manicure/pedicure and eyebrow care to remember.  No one sends a cute post card in the mail about those.  

The daily routine is what takes so much time. The makeup remover, cleanser, toner, moisturizer and nighttime moisturizer take up a whole row in my cabinet.  And that’s just to get everything off I put on every morning.  

I was stunned to learn Americans spend 7 billion dollars a year on beauty products! I suppose I shouldn’t be.  I can spend $100.00 at Walmart without even trying out new and improved age defying products as they hit the market. If you dare visit the cosmetics department in a department store, in no time a whole house payment can be spent on make up, creams, and potions.

I suppose beauty routines are as old as time.  Think about the hours Cleopatra must have spent getting her face on every day.  Some mornings I consider skipping the routine, but then I look in the mirror and change my mind.  I’d hate to frighten small children.

Wisdom arrives when you realize the importance of the little things.  If we’re not careful we spend the majority of our lives waiting on and looking for the milestones and newsworthy, breezing past what seems to be ordinary.  One of my favorite ordinary things comes every week ... Sunday morning. 

When I was growing up my mom cooked breakfast every day, except Sunday.  Sunday was cereal day and that was enough to make it special.  It was like we were breaking rules or something by eating cereal.   I couldn’t wait to dig through the five pounds of new paper and mull over the comics and I don’t remember not going to church unless we were on vacation.  After church we went to Riverdale for the lunch buffet.  It was the same every week and even then, I knew it was special.

When my kids were growing up, Sunday mornings were important because Jim Brawner made pancakes.  Mickey Mouse pancakes were his specialty.  Jim cooked and I wrestled with kids to get everyone out the door to church.  Once I remember thinking, “So this is why I got to have cereal on Sunday mornings growing up.”  After church we went out for pizza. My kids grew up thinking pancakes, church and pizza is what everyone did on Sunday.

Most Sunday mornings are quieter now.  I still look forward to them.  What could be better than a big mug of coffee and time in my thinking chair thanking God for the week I just had and looking forward to the one coming up?  Jim Brawner and I go to church and then to lunch because that’s just what you do on Sunday mornings.