Natalie Whatley

Ah!  Pollen… sniff…sniff… cough, I mean spring, is in the air! I love this time of year even though it doesn’t love me. Each morning Scooter and I take our Claritin and hope for the best.  Sniff!  Cough-cough!

While I receive no further pharmaceutical aid, Scooter is also on Prednisone and fish oil supplements. Another story for another day. He’s getting to be pretty high-maintenance, but I take care of him because no one else adores me the way he does. Picture a long-haired black and brown dachshund with the body of a basset hound; that’s my mutt.  He’s not small by any stretch, but insists on being at my feet all day–often causing minor injury to us both.  That aside, I’m blessed to have such a friend.

But I was talking about spring . . . it’s difficult to focus.  I’m not “Claritin clear” yet. For your sake, I hope it kicks in soon.

One of the things I love about spring is the constant assortment of fresh flowers on my kitchen table. To the untrained eye, they would appear to be old plastic cups full of weeds. To me, they’re much more.

I have fond memories of some very short people with chubby little hands bringing me fists full of “flowers”.  Most of the blooms wild (those small white flowers that shoot up nice and tall about the time the yard needs mowing and Jeff’s nemesis, dandelions), but there were  always sprigs that were undoubtedly weeds. My young floral designers knew beauty when they saw it and always included greenery in their arrangements. If I listened carefully, they’d tell me what caught their eye and why they chose to include it in their masterpieces.

Over the years, small, plastic toddler cups served as the receptacles for their botanical creations. On my luckiest days, there would be as many as three adorning the table—one from each child. Here’s the great part: I still have those little plastic “vases” and some very tall people with not so chubby hands still fill them.  

I’ve gone through my kitchen cabinets many times culling out items that are no longer needed. Every time I run across those cups my heart smiles and put them back in their rightful place. Then I tear up as I remember toddlers waddling to the cabinets pushing a small chair and climbing up on the counter top to retrieve a “vase”.  I’d run over, grab the squirmy little body, gently admonish such upward mobility and assist in the trip down.

I stood looking out the kitchen window this past week and watched my youngest, a ten year old girl, as she picked flowers from the yard. As sweet and angelic as she looked, I had to wonder why she couldn’t be as attentive in picking up her dirty laundry from the bathroom floor. But with a clear vision of where I knew the contents of her hands would rest, I realized that while I can’t have everything, plastic cups full of weeds sure make me feel like I do.

© 2009 Natalie Whatley

Happy Easter, Baytown! 

In an effort to put together something coherent and clever for your Easter- Sunday perusal, I set out researching Easter-y things.  I came out on the other side of two hours, with a strange conglomeration of information, no direction whatsoever, and feeling a bit stressed. I strive to maintain some standards, and to say I wasn’t ”feeling it” this week would be an understatement.  

With the pollen count reaching infinity, I’ve been in a Benadryl-induced fog for well over a week.  I also feel compelled to remind you the kids are out of school, and Jeff’s off from work for spring break; short of locking myself in the bathroom, I haven’t had much alone time to work on my weekly offering. I’m certain I’ll look back on this article, and say, “What was I thinking?” Then I’ll remind myself that I wasn’t. I couldn’t. Clear as mud, right?  Here goes.

I know I’m not alone in thinking Easter seemed to come early this year; it did.  Since the middle ages, Easter has been observed on the first Sunday after the first full moon that occurs on, or before March 21^st.  Given that, the earliest possible date for Easter is March 22^nd. Easter hasn’t fallen on that date since 1818, and won’t do so again, until the year 2285!

This year, Easter falls on March 23^rd, and it won’t fall on this date again until the year 2160.

The latest possible date for Easter is April 25^th. Easter hasn’t landed on that date since 1943, but will do so again in the year 2038. I think I have a good sporting chance of making it to that one.  

Before anyone e-mails to set me straight, I am aware that the calculation rule stated above is for the Western Christian churches. The Eastern Christian churches follow a different method. I’ll not confuse the issue by delving into the details. Let’s just say there have been efforts made over many years to reach an accord, and folks were unable to agree. Imagine that.  My mind is still reeling from trying to understand it all. Feel free to look it up at your own leisure.

Switching over to an entirely different subject (I warned you that I was not thinking clearly), I found that the Jelly Belly Candy Company has been selling  Bertie Bott’s Jelly Beans. (Warning: Don’t read the next few lines if you have a weak stomach) Partitioned neatly inside the 1.6 oz. box are jelly beans of the following flavors: earwax, bacon, dirt, spinach, grass, booger, sardine, black pepper, rotten egg, earthworm, soap, spaghetti, and last, but certainly not least, vomit. Yuck! And who was the person who taste-tested and knew what all those things should taste like? Double Yuck!

How do I know that every man who just read this is looking for a box right now? I pity the poor unsuspecting soul who picks up a few of these out of the bowl on his co-workers desk.

I think I’ll avoid jelly beans until I’m thinking a little more clearly.