Perfection

To sit in the shade on a fine day and look upon verdure

is the most perfect refreshment.

~Jane Austen

Enjoy the sunlight on spring green,



Swinging Into Spring

This is our Sweet Boy's first spring . . . at least the first he can enjoy outdoors.  He was born late April of 2010, so by the time he was old enough to be "out and about," it was too hot to enjoy the outdoors.  But this year, he is having a ball!  Last week, we visited the park for the first time.  He loves the swings so much, and that adorable laughter just makes my heart soar! 

I remember fondly the spring seasons of my childhood, and I want his to be just as magical. 

Spring has returned. The Earth is like a child that knows poems.

~Rainer Maria Rilke

May warm, spring sunshine fill your days!

Nothing but blue skies...

Blue skies

Smiling at me

Nothing but blue skies

Do I see

Bluebirds

Singing a song

Nothing but bluebirds

All day long

Have a blue sky, daffodil kind of day!

My Sesquicentennial Post and Giveaway

This is my 150th post, and I am celebrating with a special giveaway. I will assign each person who comments a special number and conduct a random drawing on Sunday, February 28th, the last day of this month. The winner will receive a special gift box from me containing vintage treasures, art items, and anything else I may think to add to the box. It really is a mystery at this point all that I will decide to include. So...feel free to enter by leaving a comment.

I've truly enjoyed my blog and all the wonderful people with whom I have become acquainted since beginning it. I hope to be blogging for many years to come!

By the way, the sweet little wrapped gift photo above is courtesy of Lilla Blanka. Visit this blog...you'll be amazed at the simplistic beauty and the creativity in using vintage items. Just gorgeous! And while my little gift probably won't be wrapped as creatively as this (although I'll try), it has definitely given me inspiration! We'll see what happens!

Thanks for visiting and following,

Today, the rain and cold are penetrating my soul. I feel sad. The drops of rain falling outside my window echo the tears in my heart, and it feels as though the heavens themselves are mournful. I heard from an old friend this morning that his father is dying and only has a couple of days left. The family has gathered, and now they wait. There is no joy for them during this Christmas season. I grieve for them and for their loss. What a difficult time to lose someone you love.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day is cold and dark and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,

But at every gust the dead leaves fall,

And the day is dark and dreary.

My life is cold and dark and dreary;

It rains, and the wind is never weary;

My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,

But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,

And the days are dark and dreary.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;

Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;

Thy fate is the common fate of all,

Into each life some rain must fall,

Some days must be dark and dreary.

~The Rainy Day by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Welcome Autumn

Fall arrives on the Domain of the University of the South in Sewanee.

O hushed October morning mild,

Thy leaves have ripened to the fall;

Tomorrow's wind, if it be wild,

Should waste them all.

The crows above the forest call;

Tomorrow they may form and go.

O hushed October morning mild,

Begin the hours of this day slow.

Make the day seem to us less brief.

Hearts not averse to being beguiled,

Beguile us in the way you know.

Release one leaf at break of day;

At noon release another leaf;

One from our trees, one far away.

Retard the sun with gentle mist;

Enchant the land with amethyst.

Slow, slow!

For the grapes' sake, if they were all,

Whose elaves already are burnt with frost,

Whose clustered fruit must else be lost--

For the grapes' sake along the all.

~October, by Robert Frost

Sewanee's campus is beautiful in the fall, and I love to watch the colors change outside my office window.

Welcome, October, my favorite month of the year.

Words for a Saturday Morning

Freedom

Home

Contentment

Family


The weekend looms in front of me with
all the promises of time
and opportunities for renewal.
I am among everything I love.


I am happy.


Vivaldi, the scent of coffee, the overflowing basket of laundry,
my barking dogs turning circles at my feet, the sound of the rain on the windowsills.


I am happy.

Summer Rain

How beautiful is the rain!

After the dust and heat,

In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,

How beautiful is the rain!

How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!


Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!

From Rain in Summer

By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

After what seems like months without rainfall, we were finally blessed last week with bucket loads. It was like seeing an old friend who had been out of town for far too long! I was so happy to see it, that I could have gone outside and danced in it. But Dear Husband says we're grown-up now, and I'm not supposed to do things like that anymore (next rain, I've promised myself a few barefoot wades through the yard puddles). This rain has been such a blessing, and the grass is finally green again, and the flowers are thankful, as am I.

Photo courtesy of

Photo Bucket

Wishes

I wish spring lasted longer.

I wish I had not grown up so fast.

I wish there were no such things as aphids.

I wish it wasn't considered childish to wade in mud puddles barefooted.

I wish my cats didn't like to chase squirrels.

I wish my parents could live closer to me.

I wish I was better at boiling eggs.

I wish white shirts never stained.

I wish my Grandmother could live forever.

I wish I could read 50 books a day and remember them all.

I wish I could travel the world and never get tired.

I wish I had a best girl friend.

I wish I was better at math.

I wish I didn't have a tendency to bite my nails.

I wish I had a hammock in the back yard again.

I wish I knew what the dogs were thinking when they look at me "that way."

I wish I could find a four leaf clover just once.

I wish I had another day to talk to my great grandmother.

I wish I could bury my feet in the sand on the beach right now.

I wish I could look at the sun with my eyes open and it didn't hurt.

I wish I had kept in better touch with old friends.

I wish I had seen Haley's Comet when I had the chance.

I wish I could look at life through the eyes of a child again.

I wish life was not so sort.

The Weekend

Ah, the weekend is almost here. I love weekends, although I often end up doing more physically demanding work at home on the weekends than I do anytime at my job at the University. But there's something about being home that gives me such joy...even if I am toiling over floors or the kitchen sink or our latest home improvement project.

This weekend, I would love to spend the hours ....

Because there's absolutely nothing like a good...

But instead, I know that I will be doing a little...

and a lot of...

and perhaps ...

And if the weather clears up, I might even get in a little...And it's a good thing I have a long weekend, because after all of that, I will probably just want to spend Monday...

Have a happy and prosperous weekend, everyone!

Lost

I promise I am not lost even though I haven't been blogging for a while (and even though the pile of work to be done is so high that it sometimes makes me feel like it's a lost cause!). We have had such a busy couple of weeks, and it sometimes feels as though there just are not enough hours in the day...days in the week! I have missed my regular blogging schedule and chats with dear bloggie friends. But do not give up on me. I think I see a break in the "too much to do" forest!

Painting by Henri Rousseau, Woman Walking in an Exotic Forest. c. 1905. Oil on canvas.

To A Mouse

As a small child, I remember very well my mother setting mouse traps to catch unwanted visitors to our little house in Kentucky. I did not understand why someone would want to do such horrible harm to such little creatures portrayed in my story books as cute, fuzzy, smart little critters who I would love to have as pets! So, when my mother wasn't looking, I'd set off the traps, leaving the cheese or whatever little piece of temptation she had left for them there. Not until years later did I confess to my mother what I had done.

All my life, I have loved the little pictures and stories of mice like Dora Mouse, Despereaux, Cinderella's mice, and others. I remember one story book where the mice who lived in a big country house foraged for things when the humans were away, and they had such a fine little mouse house that I wouldn't have minded to live in the cozy accommodations. I remember a spool for a table and a stamp for a picture on the wall. How cute is that?!? My brother and I once had pet hamsters, and I even had a pet white mouse at one time. I've never been afraid of mice, and I never understood some people who will, literally, climb up on a chair or table to get away from one of them.

Some of the cutest "mouse art" I've ever seen are by a husband and wife team, Russell W. & Cynthia Gordon. I love the whimsical, ADORABLE paintings they've done. My favorite is listed above, "The Spirit of Adventure," 2005. Below are other pieces that they have done. They even have a special section on the website titled "The Mice." I bet at one time they were the kind of children who would have "unset" a mouse trap, too. Please check out their beautiful work at http://www.gordonartstudio.com/.

Modern Mouse, 2007 - c Russell W. & Cynthia Gordon

The Abstract Painter, 2007 - c Russell W. & Cynthia Gordon

Ten Minutes to Herself, 2005 - c Russell W. & Cynthia Gordon

All of this being said, I have had a mouse encounter in my office at Thompson Union. Remember...I said I had never been afraid of mice, so imagine how shocked I was at my reaction to a little gray mouse that scurried across one of the counters in my office yesterday. I literally jumped from my chair, screamed, and ran into the hallway. When I had calmed down, I thought..."WHAT am I doing?!?!" I couldn't believe I ran from a little critter not the size of the heel of my shoe! I called the guys in PPS, who I'm sure had a good laugh at my request for a "humane" mouse trap. They brought over a critter cage and armed it with peanut butter. I am to "dispose" of the mouse, once caught in the cage, the way I see fit. The way I see fit is to let him (or her) go, unharmed, in an area where there are no houses or buildings around. Maybe a good barn would make a good home?!

My mother always said, "Paula, they're such dirty little things that carry disease!" Well, I realize that. But I still can't stick one to a glue board or kill it in a trap! So...just to update you...he DID set off the trap last night and ate part of the peanut butter...but he somehow managed to escape getting caught in the cage. I've reset it, and now I'm waiting. I realize this may not work, and I'll actually have to get close to the mouse in order to let him go, but I think I'll survive. He's tricky, though....and appears to be rather clever. I'll keep you posted.

Meanwhile, enjoy the micey art and a great old poem by Robert Burns:

To A Mouse
Small, sleek, cowering, timorous beast,
O, what a panic is in your breast!
You need not start away so hasty
With hurrying scamper!
I would be loath to run and chase you,
With murdering plough-staff.
I'm truly sorry man's dominion
Has broken Nature's social union,
And justifies that ill opinion
Which makes thee startle
At me, thy poor, earth born companion
And fellow mortal!
I doubt not, sometimes, but you may steal;
What then? Poor beast, you must live!
An odd ear in twenty-four sheaves
Is a small request;
I will get a blessing with what is left,
And never miss it.

Hope

Hope is a thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without words

And never stops at all.

~Emily Dickinson

Rain

It's raining today...sweet, nourishing, beautiful rain. I love the rain. I have loved it since I was a child. Most of my friends would be upset when it rained, but I would simply grab my raincoat and go outside. I'd hit every mud puddle. If it was warm enough, off came the rain boots and I would wade. Who needed an umbrella? Not me! Rain brought endless possibilities of play and turned our neighborhood playground into one big puddle. I absolutely LOVED it.

Maybe that's why one of my favorite movie scenes is Gene Kelly in Singing in the Rain. I adore it so much! A couple of years ago, my dad bought me a little white bunny with a pink raincoat and umbrella...and when you squeeze his hand, he dances with the umbrella and sings Singing in the Rain. You see, my dad understands. He knows a good mud puddle when he sees one.

I'm singing in the rain
Just singing in the rain
What a glorious feelin'
I'm happy again
I'm laughing at clouds
So dark up above
The sun's in my heart
And I'm ready for love
Let the stormy clouds chase
Everyone from the place
Come on with the rain
I've a smile on my face
I walk down the lane
With a happy refrain
Just singin',
Singin' in the rain

Here Comes the Sun

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter

Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun

and I say it's all right

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,

and I say it's all right It's all right

Music and Lyrics by George Harrison,

From the Beatles' album "Abbey Road," 1969

The last couple of days have been gorgeous! It's so nice to get a taste of spring weather early in the season...a little sampling of what is soon to come. My sweet husband and I took our dogs to the park yesterday, and they had a wonderful time playing in the warm sunshine and making new friends. There were many people out enjoying the weather, children were on the playground, some teenagers were playing a pickup game of basketball at the nearby courts, and a couple of young adults were playing Frisbee. People were out walking their dogs and just enjoying the warmer weather. It was heaven!

Max is so excited to be out in open space where he can run and play! He follows Michael everywhere!

Molly's favorite toy is a good tennis ball to run after! She also likes a good Frisbee and tried to steal one from some of the people playing in the park. Thankfully, she wasn't successful.

"Yum, yum, yum, I love this toy!"

Taking a break from playing catch.

Molly follows Michael up the steps of the slide.

But she backs out at the last minute, so only Max is brave enough to slide down...in Michael's arms (otherwise, he may still be up there!).

What a happy family! And you may be wondering where I am. Well, I was staying behind the camera since I hadn't bothered to put on any makeup.

Here you see why I was staying behind the camera! This is our self-portrait on the swings. Michael took it, so half my face is cut off!

Molly and Max were so excited when some of the children came over to make friends!

Looks like Molly is ready to play a little more catch!

Max and his two new pals.

Look at those two run! Wow, are they having fun with new friends!

With Molly, it's all about the toys.

And here's the result of a long afternoon of play. Both puppies and children are tuckered out!

...and Molly and Max had a very good night's sleep.

Gathering Rosebuds...

Today, as a new year begins, I am reminded of an old poem by Robert Herrick:

"Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,

Old Time is still a-flying..."

I can't believe 2009 is here already. It seems like just yesterday we were welcoming the new millennium, and nearly a decade has passed since! Time really does fly!

That is why I have made a promise to myself: to enjoy every moment, find pleasures in the simplest of things, and cherish the simple act of living. I have always been aware of finding joy in the simple things, and today I recommit to that idea. I simply love the idea of going through life gathering "rosebuds," those moments that are to be cherished always. I don't want to become so busy in my every day life that I forget to look for pleasure in the small and simple things. I also want to recommit to making time for the things I love the most but sometimes take a "backseat" when the hustle and bustle of life gets a bit hectic: my painting, my crafts, journaling and quite time for prayer and meditation. Those things help me center, and they're important.

May the Lord bless you greatly in 2009, and may you make the time for those things that mean the most to you. May you enjoy "gathering your own rosebuds."

Happy New Year,

Top Photo: John William Waterhouse, 1909

Christmas Card Scrooge...I mean...Christmas Card FRUGAL

I LOVE getting Christmas cards in the mail. I love those that my friends do with pictures of their children. And I love those I get with the one, two or three sheet summary of people's accomplishments over the year (although Michael thinks these are a bit too much and braggy...but I think they're great). I love seeing the handmade cards that some of my friends do because they're so crafty and talented. I really long to send out cards like those. Really I do. But this year has been rough. My craft supplies are crammed into the back of our storage room (along with my art canvases, paints, sewing machine, and anything else that would assist in my creative pursuits), and I'm too tired to dig them out. In fact, I've not even gone to buy Christmas cards this year, unless you count the box of 30 that I found unopened at an indoor yard sale. Michael and I have discovered that we have between us about a million Christmas cards left over from our single years when we didn't send out the entire box. "What if we send these out this year?" I asked, pulling them out of the secretary by the handfuls. "Okay with me," he said. Which, translated, means...since you're the one doing them, do what you want. So, this year we're having a true "Green" Christmas. We're recycling. We're saving money. I'm a little proud that we're being so frugal and thoughtful of our planet (smirk here). And I may even type a three page letter to go with them...on recycled typing paper, of course.

Good Bug, Dead Bug...Big Bug, Flat Bug...

(Posted by Paula)

Since I was a little girl, I've been frightened to death of certain bugs. Bugs really creep me out, and roaches (especially cockroaches and those huge water bugs), centipedes, silverfish and SPIDERS top my list of creepy crawlies to stay away from. With this being a life-long phobia, my hysterics were certainly understandable when I had a close encounter of the bug type in my office yesterday.

This was no ordinary bug. No, at Sewanee, all the bugs are super-huge...almost as if they're growing them special over in the science lab JUST to intimidate poor Sewanee staff members like me. Since I've moved to my nice, corner office in Thompson Union, I've seen no less than five of the hugest roaches I've ever encountered. These even rival those I witnessed in the dormitories at the University of Kentucky when I worked there, so...I'm here to tell you...these suckers are BIG.

Yesterday, I was sitting in my office, typing at my computer, minding my own business, when I felt a "tickle" on my calve. I had on cropped pants, so I just thought it was the cuff on my pants brushing against my leg...so I changed positions. But I still felt it. I sat back away from my desk, looked down, and saw it. On my leg, centimeters from going up under the cuff on my crop pants was the GRANDDADDY of all roaches.

Needless to say, I screamed. I jumped up out of my seat. I stomped my legs. I did a little dance. I swatted at my clothes. I screamed some more. The roach, not quite sure what to make of this display, decided the best thing to do was skedaddle back down my leg and up under the corner of my desk. My hysterics brought a crowd of onlookers wondering what in the world was going on at the end of the hall.

By the time backup arrived, I was standing on the other side of the room. Not quite sure that there weren't even more roaches on me, I was still swatting and dancing. Jennifer, one of my coworkers who inhabits the desk down the hall from me, was the bravest. She, having lived for a while in Florida, had encountered the horrific palmetto bugs, so she was willing to look under the desk to see if she could find Mr. Roach hiding, standing, waiting for me to come back. He was nowhere to be seen. She tried to ensure me that he was probably long gone, but I wasn't so sure. For the rest of the day, I tried not to put my legs all the way under the desk. Do you know how hard it is to type when you're sitting three feet away from the computer?!?

Michael had no sympathy for me whatsoever. When I called him later to tell him about it, his only reply was, "Sweeeeeeeeet..." He thought it was "awesome" (his word, not mine) that a roach almost invaded my pants.

This wasn't the first time I've had such a close encounter with one of my greatest fears. What I hate even more than roaches are SPIDERS. I have been known to stay locked outside my house for more than two hours because a spider had built a web near the door, and I was afraid to go that close to it. I had to wait for someone who wasn't scared of spiders to knock down the web and make sure that it was dead before I'd go near the door.

One of my most frightening experiences was when I was about six years old. I'll never forget it. In fact, when I think about it today, it seems as though it just happened yesterday. Now THAT is the sign of a huge impact on one's life. I was visitingmy Mama Bruce, my great-grandmother, at her house in Cawood, Kentucky one Sunday after church. Most Sunday's a lot of my cousins would come to visit her, too, and we'd all play out in the yard...games like Red Light/Green Light and Simon Says. This particular Sunday, my oldest cousin, Valerie, suggested Hide-and-Go-Seek. I loved that game! As one of the youngest cousins, I was always trying to look "bigger" to the others. I wanted them to think I was a cool kid and not afraid to do anything. I wanted to be considered one of them...not one of the babies.

When Valerie started to count, we all ran to hide. I remember thinking I had to pick someplace really, really good. That's when the old "out-house" came to mind. I knew we weren't allowed to go inside it. Our parents were afraid that we'd fall in, or the floor boards would break, or there would be snakes in there. I wasn't afraid of snakes, and I didn't believe I'd fall in, so I thought this would be the best place to hide. All my older cousins would think me brave if I was willing to go in there with snakes against our parents' wishes!

I remember that the old weathered, wooden door creaked when I slowly pulled it open and peered inside. It was dusty and dark, but I didn't see any snakes. I pulled the door open a little wider and stepped inside. The door swung shut behind me. I looked around as I turned in a slow circle. Sunshine was coming through the spaces between the wooden walls, and I could see dust floating through the air in the sunbeams. The two-seater out-house had a little space between the "holes," a perfect place to sit while I waited. I knew I'd need to sit down, because it would take them FOREVER to find me in this place! I sat down and looked up toward the ceiling. That's when I noticed all the large cobwebs. There were even some in the corners near the "seats." Webs could only mean one thing. Spiders. And I hated spiders. I suddenly realized that the entire out-house was full of webs, and I thought I better rethink my hiding place! I jumped up to walk toward the door, and that's when I saw it: the biggest spider I've ever seen. He was on the wall to the right of the door. And boy, was he BIG. In fact, he was so large, I remember thinking that if I spread all five of my fingers out as far as they'd go, my palm and fingers would still not be as big as this gargantuan spider! He was a TARANTULA...I just KNEW it (yeah, I'm well aware there are not supposed to be tarantulas in Eastern Kentucky, but you tell HIM that!)!!!!!

I remember it clearly. I did the dance. The same dance I did in my office yesterday when I realized that it was a roach that was playing with my leg. I remember stomping and shaking my clothes. And then it dawned on me that I was in an outhouse with probably THOUSANDS of spiders. That's when I panicked! I remember thinking that I'd have to get closer to the big spider to actually get out of the out house...but I didn't know if I could do it. But I HAD to do it! I closed my eyes, gathered my strength and ran toward the door as fast as I could. I'd be like lightening, and he wouldn't even have the chance to jump on me! So, I hit the door with both hands going full speed. And then I stopped. The door wouldn't open, and I was standing RIGHT NEXT to the spider. I freaked out. That's when the screaming started. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. I flung myself against the door again, but it was still stuck. Again. Nothing. More screams. Finally, I backed up toward the seats to get a good running start, and flung myself one more time against the door. It flew open and I went sailing out the door into the sunlight. I remember coming to a stop flat on my stomach in the green grass, my arms straight out in front of me.

Once I could take a breath, I looked up to see my dad and two of my uncles running toward the out-house as fast as they could. My mother and aunt were close behind them. That's when I knew how much trouble I was in. My dad got to me first, and as he picked me up off the grass and I began explaining what happened, I saw my cousins, huddled together near the garage, laughing. Gina had her hand over her mouth as if she was trying to hide the fact that she was finding great pleasure in my situation. But I knew her laughter was meant for me to see...I was meant to see that they were ALL laughing. Sheila pointed to me and hit her knees with her hands as she doubled over in laughter. This was NOT what was supposed to have happened!

I remember that my uncle went inside the outhouse to look for the giant spider, but he couldn't find it. I made my dad go look, but he didn't see it either. What about the other spiders, I remember asking...are they all gone?!?! Only a few "babies" left, my uncle said. I remember him saying that must have scared most of them away with all my screaming.

I don't remember much about my punishment, although I know I got one. What I DO remember is that about two weeks after that, my great-grandmother had that old out-house torn down and the big hole filled in. But even though the out-house was no longer there, I knew that giant spider was still hiding around her house SOMEwhere...maybe he had moved to the garage or to the furnace room of the house...but he was definitely there.

Ever since that encounter, I've dreamed about spiders a few times a year. Most of the time, I see them falling from the ceiling, lowering themselves by that little rope of web, down onto my face. I jump out bed, do my dance and shake the bed covers. I never find anything, though. Those spiders are really, really sneaky.

I've read that a person, on average, eats at least four spiders a year in their sleep. Now, my family says that these spider encounters I have in the middle of the night are dreams...but if we eat four spiders a year...I don't think I'm dreaming, do you!?!?

Now that I live in Fayetteville in an old house, spiders are nearly an everyday sighting. And I still won't go near them. Michael has been dubbed the official spider-killer in the family. No matter the size, spiders creep me out. Just last week, we contracted with a bug patrol to spray our house monthly for spiders...and centipedes and silverfish and all those other bugs I hate so much.

In my opinion, the only good bug is a dead bug.

Prayers & Protests

It's difficult to comprehend the events of April 16th on the campus of Virginia Tech. I simply can't fathom what makes someone do something so terribly brutal and heinous to innocent people. I can't IMAGINE what the families, friends and survivors of the incident must be experiencing. All I can do is offer up simple prayers that our Lord will wrap his arms around them, comfort them, and help them through this sad, sad time.

It could happen anywhere, and I find myself asking, "Why Virginia Tech? Why not Sewanee or the University of Kentucky or Union College or Samford?" What is frightening is that something like this REALLY COULD happen anywhere, and until our government enacts tighter regulations on the purchase of firearms, I'm afraid we'll see it again. And again. It's unfortunate that something like this horrific act has to happen when it could be prevented with a tightening of gun laws.

PLEEEEEEEEEASE write your congressmen, the president, WHO EVER will listen...something has to be done to gain control over the sale of weapons before another Virginia Tech or Columbine or University of Texas happens again!! Enough is enough!

My Night of Crime Fighting

(Posted by Paula)

Michael made fun of me just a bit as I changed clothes TWICE before my "big night." One has to have the appropriate attire to fight crime. He just didn't understand that I couldn't do my duty in something just thrown together. There were standards. The appropriate color and flexibility are important when one is crime fighting.

As part of our leadership class requirements, each member must do a "ride along" with a city or county police officer. I chose the city since I'm new to town and want to know all the places to avoid and all the "bad" people who live in my neighborhood. My mission: ride with Officer Miller from seven until I feel all the bad guys are caught and my duty is done, making the streets safer for other Fayettevillians. I had already warned my class members to be careful on Saturday night...that I would be helping provide protection to the City, and they should be sure to stay out of trouble. I have no mercy on the bad.

At 7:00 p.m. sharp, I arrived at the police station. I climbed into the car, fastened my seat belt (it's The Law, and I wanted to show my police partner how careful I am at obeying laws!), and we were off. In the back of my mind, I heard the theme song from the show "Cops" playing, and I was ready to relieve Fayetteville of some of the Bad Guys. "Watch Out", I thought, "I"m coming for you!"

Our first order of business: cruise through the projects and past two known crack houses. Wow...the people were standing in the streets outside the house. I was ready to go in if the occasion warranted it. But they knew not to mess with us. Their eyes diverted away. There was a new cop in town, baby!

Next, we were called to a domestic abuse situation. But we were able to work things out to where we didn't have to take anyone Down Town. But, we thought as we drove away, we'll be back later...these people are trouble.

While we drove around the problem areas making our presence known, we listened to an actual "chase" on the radio. A drunk driver from Franklin County made the mistake of crossing the line into Lincoln County. Our guys gave him chase for a while, watching him weave and almost crash several times. I kept hearing them talk about how he was going to kill someone if they didn't get him off the road. About that time, we heard him hit a patrol car and keep going. Several expletives in our car and others. They decided they were going to set up a road block. Surely he would stop, my partner said. The next thing we heard was, "The "expletive" hit me...he T-boned me!" More expletives. This was getting serious. As we heard them "talk" about how he was getting closer to Highway 64, my partner said they'd have to take him out before he got to the main highway. No sooner had he said it did we hear another car say he was in a position to "take him out!" I kept hearing this term, and I was a bit confused by it. I ask what it meant. Were they going to shoot him? Could we help!?!?!? Darn. I left my 38-Special at home! But my partner told me that it just meant that they were going to shoot out his tires. Not shoot him. Before the officer could "take him out," however, another patrol car got hit. We heard that, too. More expletives. They went into a field. They drove through the field. More expletives. Static. Expletive. And then we heard a fellow officer come on the radio to say that the suspect had crashed. An ambulance was needed. They said they may need Med Flight. Wow. This was something I normally watched on CNN. I wanted to be where the action was. I was itching to get "into the fight," but my partner said we had to guard our domain...not leave it unmanned. I understood. Besides, the suspect was in custody, and no officers were injured. Three patrol cars, however, were killed in the chase.

We got a call about that time regarding a suspected drunk driver. Oh yeah! We pulled up behind the pickup, lights went on. Would he run? Would we have to chase him? His right blinkie went on, and he pulled over. Darn, there would be no chase...this time. My partner went up, cautiously, to the window, even though he knew the man, as he had pulled him over and arrested him before. A repeat offender. The worst kind. And THIS was a 72 year old repeat offender. Never knew what he would do. He had A LOT of experience being a repeat offender! He could be trouble! I stayed in the car to provide back up from afar, just in case Officer Miller needed it. After a few minutes, the man got out of the vehicle, went around to the back of the truck at my partner's directions, and attempted to follow simple instructions...follow the flashlight using his "eyes only." Apparently, that is something that is difficult to do when one can't stand up straight. Officer Miller held the flashlight in one hand and moved it from side to side. The man weaved forward; he weaved backward; he stuck his hands out to his sides as if he was an airplane or a bird that was attempting to take flight. Once the man felt as though he had steadied himself, he threw his hands down to his sides quickly, threw his head back and chin up, as if he was a soldier being called to attention. Something about that struck me as funny, so I cried tears of laughter in the car where I...ready to spring into action at a moment's notice... kept watch over the situation. Over and over again, he attempted to follow the flashlight with only his eyes. It didn't work. Inevitably, he would turn his entire head as the flashlight went from side to side. "Put the cuffs on him!" I was thinking from my place in the patrol car. "Let's take him to the Big House!" Finally, the man was completely frustrated, so he leaned against the back of the pickup, almost sliding down to sit on the bumper, as he was having more and more trouble standing up. More backup arrived. Suddenly, my partner took out his cuffs and placed them around the man's wrists. "Woooo-H000o!" I thought! "We're actually going Down Town!" I almost forgot and yelled it out loud. They walked towards me, and as the man stumbled up to the patrol car, he reached for the door handle...to MY door! "Whoa, big guy!" I thought, "I don't wanna have to hurt you!" The officer opened the back door, however, and steered him to the backseat, helping him get in so he wouldn't bump his head. How nice of him. I thought they "threw" them into the back seat! No sooner had the man hit the seat than I smelled him. The odor was over powering, and he smelled as if he'd taking a bath in a few hundred bottles of Jack Daniels. I got woozy. My eyes actually watered. I couldn't afford to be weak on my first night. I tried to suck it up. Then, I watched as my partner went to the front of the patrol car, talked with another officer, and the two of them proceeded to search the man's truck. "Wait," I thought! "Don't leave me in here with this smelly man!" I wanted to get out, but about the time I went for the doorhandle, the man spoke. It sounded something like this: "Sheeeeeeaaaaat! Ima not beeeen dreeenkin no wheeesky! Ima don drink-k wheeesky...man cant evnin wok down da streeeeet widout sumbuny sayin' he's weeevin. Ima don weavin. Sheeeeeat! Tell....tellem seach the sewcase if them wannam fine sumthin. Sheeeeaaaaaaat! Im sick-k...man cant-t be sick wiout beeeen haraassssssssssed. Sheeeeaaaaaaaaaaat!" I decided to stay. The suspect might say something that could be used against him in a court of law. It was my duty to listen. Besides, he had no idea that I was in the front seat because he hadn't opened his eyes since they had placed him in the back. He could reveal something incriminating, and if he did, I'D BE THERE. I just needed to hold my nose. I actually thought about pulling my travel bottle of perfume out of my purse and spraying him with it. I'm sure he wouldn't notice.

My partner and the other guy found a bag of pills. Did they searched the "sewcase?" I watched to be sure. Yep. They looked in there. Playboy magazines. It was full of Playboy magazines! I watched as one of the officers took them to his car. Evidence, I guess. After thoroughly searching the truck, they brought to the patrol car the bag of pills, a flask of whisky (my guess was Jack Daniels) and a collection kit to test the man's blood alcohol content...or blood pill content or something. I held these items for my partner since there was no place to put them. He went out to talk to the other officers again. While he was gone, I quietly unscrewed the lid on the flask and took a sniff. My eyes watered again. Holy Cow. I screwed the lid back on as tightly as I could. I didn't want that stuff to make contact with my skin. It might burn it off.

After Officer Miller started the patrol car and headed Down Town, I hoped he would turn on the lights. After all, we had a criminal in our vehicle. To my disappointment, no lights. He told me we were headed to the hospital to take a blood test. It would tell us what Mr. Smelly had taken. "Iant takn NUTin" yelled the man from the backseat. Each time he spoke, I thought I would pass out. Don't breathe too strongly, I thought, or I'll lose my dinner. About that time, he placed his hands on the bars behind my head and pulled himself closer to them...closer to me. "Oh....I diden know there wuz a lady in heeere," he said. "Scuse meee....I diden know yuse up thar." Officer Miller told him he must be worse off than he thought if he didn't know there was a lady in the car, and he hoped he hadn't cursed in front of me. "Nosiiirrrr....I .....I...I diden know....."

After the trip to the hospital where we collected evidence, we drove the man to the jail. The patrol car pulled around to the back of the jail where a heavy door raised, and to my amazement, we drove inside. It felt as if I was entering the Bat Cave. Upon driving through the door, it lowered itself. We were inside. We were inside a fortress. Another officer-looking person came out. He helped my partner get the man out of the backseat. "Want to go in?" my partner asked me. "Are you kidding? Sure I do!" I heard myself say much too enthusiastically. Darn...now he'd know I was an amateur. Act tough! Act Cool. Act like you're not scared Sheeeeeeeeeeaatless. I got control of myself. The four of us walked down a long corridor. Much to my dismay, I had to walk behind the prisoner. Believe me, it smelled worse back there than it had in the front seat. But I kept a stone-cold face.

We entered a huge room where two people in uniforms help my partner get the man inside. One of them wrote information down in a big book, and asked the prisoner to remove his belt and shoes. I noticed that once he had removed his shoes, Mr. Smelly had holes in his socks and his second toe stuck through one of them. I bet if he had known he was going to get arrested, he would have put on a better pair of socks.

At that time, I decided to take a look around. I turned in a slow circle taking everything in. As I turned, I saw large glass doors which I heard one of the officers refer to as "booking cells." As I looked at the doors, a man appeared at one of them, dressed only in his underwear! I turned away quickly. There was an almost-naked man looking right at me! I tried not to looked shocked as I turned away from him and met the eyes of the female officer who was in charge of writing the information down in the Big House Big Book. I knew it was important for me to act like I saw strange men in their tighty-whities all the time. I could do this. I decided to look again, just to make sure I had actually seen what I thought I saw. Yep. Briefs, not boxers. Yikes! And then another man appeared at one of the other doors. He, too, wore the same looking undies. Did NO one wear clothes around here?!?! I looked away again, but tried to do so nonchalantly as if I see men in their underwear all the time. I'm no amateur.

As they finished taking down the information and began to lead Mr. Smelly away, he turned to thank Officer Miller for arresting him. And he thanked me. He thanked everyone, as a matter of fact. He was very, very thankful.

I turned to go, and as I did, I took one more look at the two men in their panties. I, after all, had just arrested a drunk, smelly man. No one could intimidate me. I looked them straight in the eyes as I followed Officer Miller out of the room. I wasn't afraid to look! I could look at nearly naked criminals (who I found out later had committed serious felonies). I felt better that I hadn't diverted my eyes like a Sissy-Girl. I felt empowered.

It had been a long night, and it was nearing 1:30 a.m. by the time we arrived upstairs in the jail so that Officer Miller could complete the paperwork on the prisoner. Things were quietening down. The county guys were back from their chase and were discussing it in detail inside. I went to look at the cars. They looked muddy and mangled. But in the end, the Good Guys had prevailed. I went back up to the room and listened to them tell about the night, over and over again. They were excited. The adrenaline was still pumping. They had all had a good time.

As much as I hated to admit it, it was getting way past my bedtime, and the yawns were coming every few minutes. I needed to leave while I was still awake enough to walk out with energy, I thought. I called Michael to come get me at the jail, we needed to get my car, and go home. When he arrived, I said goodnight to my fellow officers. It had been a good night. I had fulfilled my duty well. As I walked out of the jail with a new-found purpose, I felt as though my head was held a little higher. I had protected my fellow Fayettevillians from danger. I had taken a drunk driver off the road and lived to tell about it. Shoot, I had even seen men in their Fruit-of-the-Looms. I was a New Woman.

Michael dropped me off at my car in front of the police station and waited as I started the engine and pulled out behind him. It annoyed me a bit that he waited, as if I couldn't protect myself if something happened. Didn't he realize that I was a New Woman? Didn't he know that now, drunk drivers everywhere would cower in fear? And men in their underwear were no match for me? Still, I thought, growing a bit softer at the thought, it was a nice gesture.

As I drove out of the parking lot, I actually considered taking a detour through the projects. But only for a second. It was time to go home. My mission was complete.


Disclaimer: Parts of this story may be greatly exaggerated.