THE BUDDY SYSTEM

We are heading to College Station next weekend to celebrate best buddy Tim's 60th birthday, and it got me to thinking...about an eye-opening conversation we had not long ago. For more than 30 years I've been under the impression that we and the Sanfords both ran around in the same crowd, and lived in the same world, when we met in Bahrain. Just recently, however, I discovered that was not the case at all. The lightbulb didn't go off until we told them about hooking up with the Weirichs recently, and finding out about an upcoming reunion. "Hey, none of the guys I hung out with are gonna be there," Tim replied with a laugh. "Hell, most of em are probably dead by now!"

It took me a few days to muddle this out, but finally I got the picture. You see, the way things were with life on an offshore platform, John and Tim were kind of like bisexuals - they could go either way. They had one foot in each of two different worlds, but they each had their primary foot in opposite worlds.

Tim was the safety expert offshore. It was his job to keep everyone alive, and believe you me, that was no easy task with that wild and wooly bunch! Most of the guys working on the platforms had come over on single status, were making more money than they ever dreamed possible, and when they got their one week of shore-leave, they were like cowboys hitting the saloon after a long cattle drive. Tim only worked offshore, so these were his primary friends, but when he got his shore-leave, he went home to his sweet little kindergarten-teaching wife, who lived on the company compound with all the other married-status people. So of course, he socialized with both groups. I used to get jealous because Paula got invited to so many more parties than me - and some pretty wild ones at that - but never really stopped to figure out why. I just thought we must be too boring!

Unlike Tim, John originally worked in the office with guys who pretty much all came over on married status, some even bringing kids. Although we opted out of moving to the company compound when it was completed, choosing instead to "mingle with the natives," these were still the people that we hung out with. It wasn't until months later, that John was assigned to do a stint offshore. I was pretty nervous when I found out about it. He tried to reassure me by saying "Don't worry, we engineers have a low mortality rate," but then he spoiled it by mumbling "long as we don't piss off a construction foreman." Now I'm sitting here wondering if maybe it wasn't just lucky chance that gave him Tim as a roommate. I'm thinking maybe someone was smart enough to realize, if anyone could babysit a rookie engineer and keep him safe, it would be Tim Sanford. The nick-names should have tipped me off. Tim and all the others had tough sounding names like Tex, Toad, and Redbeard, while everyone called my hubby "John Boy." So thanks a million Tim, for bringing my baby back home in one piece. I am forever in your debt.

Top photo: Paula and Tim (aka Toad)
Bottom: Me and John Boy

LOOKING A GIFT HORSE IN THE MOUTH

My recent birthday got me to thinkin' about gifts, signs of affection, and proof of love. Some folks are all about the rituals and show. The more you abide by the Hallmark Holiday Rules, the more you must love them, right? Maybe not.

Our son would probably never remember Mother's Day or Father's Day, or even our birthdays, if he didn't have an older sister to prod him, and neither one of them has any idea when our anniversary is, and yet, there's not a doubt in my mind that they adore us. I've actually overheard them, on more than one occasion, telling friends that they hit the jackpot when it comes to parents.

Some folks, however, are all about the trappings, and are absolutely clueless when it comes to the true meaning of a gift. If they knew how some gift-givers really felt, they would be horrified. Often, showering a person with gifts and honoring every single Hallmark occasion, is more akin to natives making sacrifices to the volcano gods - they are just hoping to buy some peace and quiet.

Personally, I'd be suspicious of someone who made a big deal about giving me elaborately wrapped gifts on all of the mandatory occasions. Like the Trojans with their gift horse, this person is probably the one most likely to be doin' the happy dance when I am gone. Good thing my hubby hates following "the rules," and prefers to do his gift giving spontaneously, when you least expect it, wrapped in whatever the store put it in.

P.S. Many thanks to zsquad.com for the above image.

IS IT JUST ME...

Or are we having an exceptional year for fall color?

YES WE CAN!

Well, we did it guys and gals. Obama actually won! Now, if only he can follow through on his campaign promises, and live up to the needs and expectations of all those young people who helped to get him elected, so that they don't become resigned and jaded like the rest of us.

I never thought I'd say this, but maybe 8 years of Bush was a good thing. Perhaps we were like alcoholics - we had to hit rock bottom before we could see the error of our ways, and begin to climb out of this hole we have dug for ourselves. Susan Wittig Albert just left a great posting over at the new SCN blog, Telling HerStories: The Broad View (http://storycircle.typepad.com). I particularly liked this line: "I believe that our journey through this life is the process of giving up our illusions about what is fun, safe, easy, free. Giving up illusions is transformative. Documenting changes in ourselves can move us--mercifully--toward growth and maturity."

My prayer is that Obama can take America, not back to where we were before Bush, but forward, to a new place. A simpler, greener, more down-to-earth place. A place where we can work together for the greater good, instead of alone for the almighty dollar. Hey, it could happen! Couldn't it?

NEXT ON THE AGENDA...

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ARE WE HAVIN' FUN, OR WHAT?

Line-dancing just beats a treadmill all to pieces. I had no idea there was so much variety to it though. The majority is done to C&W favorites, but we also do a tango that makes me want to stick a rose between my teeth. I hadn't realized just how much I had missed dancing. Once a year at the company Christmas party just doesn't cut it. The good news is, our instructor Dee (the one in the middle) told us today about a great place in Kyle called Texas Old Town (http://www.texasoldtown.com/events.php). It's primarily a wedding/reunion venue, but on the second Friday of each month they host a family style C&W dance with a great barbecue buffet, and Dee plans to be there, teaching anyone who's interested how to line-dance. Can't wait! In the meantime, y'all should come on down to the Wimberley Community Center on a Monday morning at 9:00 (plus 1st & 3rd Wed.). We be havin' some fun!

THE ART OF BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION

In our family, birthdays do not last a mere 24 hours. John usually buys me a gift sometime in the summer, while we are on vacation (he adores museum and hotel galleries and gift shops). His intention is to save it for birthday or Christmas, but once he gets it home, he can't stand it. He sets the wrapped package out where I can see it, then taunts me daily with "Aren't you curious? Don't you want to open it now?", until I finally cave. A big box from San Diego arrived at the beginning of September, and I opened up these gorgeous art glass flowers about a week later. A beautiful neck scarf in the exact blueish-greyish-greenish shade as my eyes, hand-knitted by my darling daughter, arrived about a week before the big day.

Next there was the pre-birthday dinner at Mandola Winery, with John, Nicki and Dale. Then there was the artist's date in Austin that I treated myself to on the actual day, along with telephone serenades from everyone in the family. Last but not least, there was my tamale birthday cake at Cafe Milagro, arranged by Cheryl and Deb the weekend following my birthday, after an exhausting day at the International Quilt Festival in Houston.

Slow Food, and Slow Birthdays. They're a good thing.