tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-232478452024-03-12T21:34:32.313-07:00call of the roadmy life, travel, and short stories blogKate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-22153631180402416122017-06-18T05:17:00.001-07:002017-06-18T05:17:16.600-07:00Saints, castles, and AFCGrace Pilgrims relied on the grace of a tour company to get us to Avila and Segovia through tunnels and over mountains we cruised in comfort.<br />
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Tired toes be glad<br />
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Travel by bus refreshing<br />
Ready to conquer<br />
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<span id="goog_1164126566"></span><span id="goog_1164126567"></span><br />Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-50346962081988314202017-06-18T05:15:00.001-07:002017-06-18T05:17:50.314-07:00Sunday in Lexington <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Alton and I are home from this fabulous trip and ready for services at Grace Episcopal Church at 10. See you there.<br />
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Connectivity and time caught up with me for the Granada part of this trip. I'll add that after another good night's sleep!Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-74066253803421880522017-06-14T11:11:00.002-07:002017-06-14T11:11:26.939-07:00Just hanging around Spain<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Does anyone else remember a song about a Spanish cat--"Oh Senor Don Gato was a cat. On a high red roof Don Gato sat oh he wasn't very pretty meow, meow,meow...Well these cats in the Prague El Retiro didn't recognize my English renditions of it!</div>
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Tuesday night after Toledo we found a great taverna with an English-language menu. We enjoyed jam on croquettes, mullet, and a Spanish egg-potato-meat dish, followed by our near nightly ice cream break.<br />
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<br />Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-48887607757939588982017-06-14T10:43:00.001-07:002017-06-14T10:43:28.996-07:00Toledo- a wonderful guide, a great cityToledo, is much smaller than Madrid, about 83,000 compared to Madrid's 3.3 million, and it welcomed us with open arms- the arms of our guides Judy and John Duer, longtime friends of the Honeycutts, who now live in Toledo. Judy met us at the train station, took us into Toledo, where we explored the City of Three Cultures, a World Heritage Site, so named for its peaceful co-habitation of Christian, Jewish, and Muslim communities.<br />
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Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-78460723317732176652017-06-12T07:36:00.000-07:002017-06-12T07:36:03.505-07:00Madrid Day TwoMuseums, Spanish burgers, and a Buckeye!<br />
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Spain and France share a border and the ability to make a buttery croissant. Along with fresh squeezed orange juice and cafe con leche, my desayuno (breakfast) was complete and we were off to the Museo Nacional Centro des Artes, Reina Sofia. Wasn't I thrilled to see art from one of my favorite fellow Buckeyes - Roy Lichtenstein. Columbus friends will recognize this "Brushstroke " as its cousin, "Brushstrokes in Flight" is at the airport.<br />
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The showstealer was Pablo Picasso with the exhibit "Pity and Terror" which runs through September. Before this trip I read "Madrid in Winter," CJ Sansom's spy novel set in 1940, in which a character loses all family at the bombing of Guernica. And I learned a bit about the piece, yet the emotion in the studies before the final work, the work itself, and Picasso's Weeping Woman, stung my eyes and my heart. The work cannot be photographed and the power is absent, but here's a postcard from the museum gift shop.</div>
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The museum courtyard and fountain provided a quiet spot for Morning Prayer and a group picture( just not on my camera). The gardens near the Prado will host us for reflection and Evening Prayer. </div>
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Some Grace Pilgrims favor foods they know and we're quite pleased with giant Spanish hamburgers at lunch. Other pilgrims favored sandwiches mixta - jambon y queso </div>
(Ham and cheese) and cool gazpacho, and pitchers of agua. It is in the mid90s today. Siesta, then more exploration!Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-37120517780306741952017-06-11T11:41:00.000-07:002017-06-11T11:41:07.606-07:00Sunday morning Madrid!<br />
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We are here! Tired from the flight and the walk uphill to our charming hostel on Cervantes street (sans windmill). We've already experienced jambon and manchego for lunch and a stop for ice cream at the Freddo Freddo. I said I was coming for the food!<br />
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But the cathedral, the palace, the Prado -- oh my!<br />
Cathedral de Nuestra Senora de la Almudena-has been one of today's highlight for me. All sainted up with the requisite lingering incense which reminded Alton and me of our old Columbus home at St. James, an Anglo-catholic parish. The gorgeous Mary chapel was off to the right of the main altar. Soft chants played in the background as visitors and worshippers move quietly around the sacred space.<br />
I enjoyed the brilliant colors in the ceiling, the graphic designs, and the stain glass. The ceiling was very contemporary-flames for Pentecost, bright blue stars above, and behind the altar brilliant, contemporary stained glass windows.<br />
The Royal Palace was huge, bigger than I remember Versailles being, which is the point. It is the biggest palace in Europe. Waiting rooms, etiquette room, study, lunch, a massive, fully set dining table. Alton thinks it would work well for next year's Vestry dinner. I don't even know what to pour in the five pieces of stemware at each plate. The opulence...at a time when so many had so little. But I'm guessing each chandelier had its own maid to clean and polish all those pieces of crystal. I wonder if that's also the case at Mar-a-lago?<br />
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But the Prado. Museodelprado.es. Oh Kathy Johnson, you must visit. Everything you told us was so true, and more!<br />
We each had a painting/painter to find - mine was Heironymous Bosch, The Garden of Earthly Delites. Gorgeous, scary, weird, contemporary. If you don't know it, please look it up. It's worth your two minute Google. <br />
Giant paintings, fatuously funny portraits of wealthy folks, El Greco, Velazquez, Titan, Both Goya's frightening and Rubens pudgy Three Graces, So much religious art, so many faces of Christ!<br />
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The Grace Pilgrims are tired tonight, all tucked in, and there may be some snoring. Tomorrow we are back at it. Check back to see what "it" is. <br />
<a name='more'></a>Can't wait!<br />
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<br />Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-9662369197231033722017-06-09T12:59:00.001-07:002017-06-09T13:02:36.284-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Here we pilgrims are at our annual outdoor mass (and picnic!) last Sunday as the church sent us on our way. Note our various styles of prayer. Bowed heads, solemn faces --we're Episcopalians-it all works! </div>
Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-6189191690701216072013-04-18T07:23:00.001-07:002017-06-09T12:37:25.175-07:00Going to SpainTomorrow! Bags packed, Alton and I are off to explore Madrid, Avila, Toledo, Granada with four teenagers - Blake, Jack, Miles, and the courageous Parker - and our ever popular J2A youth leaders - ever popular Cathy and her husband Sims. <br />
Look out Iberia, here we come.<br />
<br />Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-41718221700211345662013-03-26T12:18:00.001-07:002013-03-26T12:18:28.925-07:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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March 2012</div>
Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-7058887079468440212013-03-26T12:16:00.002-07:002013-03-26T12:16:55.981-07:00<img src="http://www.facebook.com/images/photos/profile/gradient.png" /><b style="line-height: 13.5pt;"><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11pt;">As the sun shines and the snow melts I am reminded of the summer
of 12 and this article I wrote for the Clintonville Farmers’ Market newsletter…</span></b><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Summer of 12 “Aporkalypse” Now? <o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Bone dry. Hot as Hades, and maybe a summer we want
to forget now that cool, fall temperatures are here. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">While thankful for every growing season, this past
year was difficult for many Central Ohio producers. In a
survey near the end of summer, Market Manager Laura Zimmerman found that
producers said their yield was down by 25% and some yields were down as much as
50%. Yet, for a lucky few producers,
yields were the same or even up this year. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">While any things impact yields – heat, cold, rain,
wind, irrigation, soil condition, drought resistant plants, time, field
workers, and broken machinery – this year weather was the main problem – too
much heat and not enough rain. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">According to the National Climatic Data Center, the
historic drought of 2012 covered nearly two-thirds of the contiguous U.S.
In fact, drought covered 65.45% of the Lower 48 states on September 25, a
record during the 13-year history of the U.S. Drought Monitor. The good
news is that recent generous rains have helped range land, pastures, and
recently planted winter wheat from the southern half of the Plains into the
Ohio Valley. That’s good news for those of us who like bread!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Cambria","serif"; font-size: 11.0pt; mso-ascii-theme-font: major-latin; mso-hansi-theme-font: major-latin;">Where there isn’t rain, there isn’t a crop. The USDA says the impact of the drought has
the </span><span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11pt;">potential to increase retail prices for beef, pork, poultry,
and dairy products later this year and into 2013. But in the short term,
drought conditions may lead to herd culling in response to higher feed costs, and
short term increases in meat supply. This could decrease prices for some meat
products in the short term. That trend would reverse over time after product
supplies shrink.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Cambria, serif; font-size: 11pt;">Here’s how this weather to
crop thing works -- Historically, if the
farm price of corn increases 50 percent, then retail food prices increase by
0.5 to 1 percent. We know from every
trip to the grocery, that retail food prices bounce around depending on supply
and demand. Expect that again this fall
and winter. USDA reports inflation has
averaged 2.5-3 percent annually for the past 20 years, and 2012 is no
different. They predict, next year, a slight increase above those historical
averages when food price inflation is expected to be between 3 percent and 4
percent, with increases centralized in animal products--eggs, meat, and dairy. So “Aporkalypse” as the rumored bacon
shortage has been dubbed, may not be a problem in Ohio, but you’re likely to
pay more moola for that bacon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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Regardless
of the weather and the price of pigs in or outside a poke, the summer of 2012
was challenging for our local producers.
Keep them in mind as you make your own food plans for the coming
year. Buy local and keep supporting the local
farmers and producers you met at the market this year. Your support keeps them coming back year
after year. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-20934583286203709422012-05-03T07:49:00.000-07:002012-05-03T07:49:26.121-07:00While not really a travel blog, I like to think I will continue to post travel stories here along with my published essays and short stories.
The road is calling this month as I will head to New York on Mother's Day weekend with my daughter continuing the weekend trips tradition I started with my mom about 2000. We visited Put-in Bay, Emerald Isle, Marietta, Cincinnati and a couple trips to Lake Hope before Mom was too ill to travel. Carey and I will continue the tradition by spending a couple nights in Manhattan. She wants to see Strawberry Fields. I want to see the Greenmarket Farmers Market. We both can't wait to see the Museum of Natural History.
More fun and more travel stories.
Then later this month, we will join our Southern Family for another long weekend. This time at my favorite beach -- Topsail Island. The beach background in this blog is Topsail.
Travel. I love you.Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-33773676771716040922012-05-03T07:39:00.002-07:002012-05-03T07:39:22.162-07:00I found God, but was He lost?
Kate M Carey
It was through death that I found God. God wasn’t really lost. And I wasn’t really lost. But we were having a long-distance relationship.
I prayed to Him nearly every night of my adult life. Nothing big -- no ceremony, no altar. no bowed head or kneeling at the bedside. Just silent whisperings. I prayed for my friends and family. I prayed for the POWs and MIAs. I prayed for my daughter to be happy, healthy, and well-balanced. I prayed for my husband’s health. I prayed for calm strength and strong wisdom for me.
My mother died in October and God was there with us. Every day and every night of her hospice care, He was there. He didn’t say much, but He did a lot.
When I yelled at him or cried, “Please God, take her.” He was silent.
When I woke up and said, “Will it be today, God?” He was silent.
When she called out “Sweet Jesus, please let me die!” Like mother, like daughter. My mother’s cries were met with His silence.
When she asked, “Why can’t I die?” My father, brother, and I were left to answer her. I tried the “it’s-not-time-yet” approach. My father tried the Catholic approach of his youth “Only God decides when you die.” My brother was silent, like the God we kept asking for help.
But God was there. He stood by me. He helped me see that his miracles are even more evident in death than they are in life. He showed me what love was.
I saw love pour forth from my brother every time he lifted our mom from her bed and helped her to the bathroom.
I saw love in every screetch-scretch-screetch sound of the slide of my father’s walker as he made his way to my mother’s room.
I saw love in my aunt’s face with each new soup she brought because my mom always loved her soups. I saw love in my mother’s friends who came to say good bye and I heard it in their voices as they called her from afar one last time.
I saw love as they listened calmly as she told them she was dying and she had a message for them, “Only God decides when you die,” she said with the wisdom of those who know their time is short.
I saw love in the care the Hospice nurses brought on each daily visit and in each increase of morphine.
I saw love from my friend who drove an hour far out into the country to a place she had never been to bring me wine, chocolate, cheese and a loving hug. I saw love as I watched from the front porch as her car headed back to the city where we both live.
I saw love in the email life lines I had with friends of twenty-some years during the long days and even longer nights of Hospice.
I saw love in the drops of morphine I slipped into my mother’s now silent mouth.
God showed me love. He showed me how others live his love because He knew that I needed love to conquer my sadness. He knew I needed to love my mother on her way to heaven.
It was through Death that I found God. God wasn’t really lost. But in the warm fall light of October, he was found.
Kate M Carey works in higher education and writes stories about daily life. Her characters experience love and loss as they work their paths through life often with humor and seldom without chaos. She is married and has a daughter.
Kcarey4@gmail.com 566 wordsKate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-78691470563348538792010-04-18T11:39:00.000-07:002010-04-18T11:41:03.622-07:00Day 1 New YorkLaurie and I are being treated to a trip to the city with Cousin Sally. Not my cousin. Not Laurie's cousin. Sally is Lynn and Diane's cousin. Lynn and Diane are high school friends of Laurie's. Girlfriends cross all boundaries. We're off to dinner somewhere near Times Square.Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-78238807197286417752010-04-17T10:19:00.000-07:002010-04-17T10:20:27.319-07:00Lent and Repent<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 12"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CUsers%5Ckcarey%5CAppData%5CLocal%5CTemp%5Cmsohtmlclip1%5C02%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="place"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="City"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" name="address"></o:smarttagtype><o:smarttagtype namespaceuri="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" 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mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:11.0pt; font-family:"Calibri","sans-serif"; mso-ascii-font-family:Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font:minor-bidi;} </style> <![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapedefaults ext="edit" spidmax="2049"> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:shapelayout ext="edit"> <o:idmap ext="edit" data="1"> </o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span style=""> </span>Lent and Repent <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;" align="center"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span style=""> </span>…by kate carey <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Elvis would understand, she thought as she sat in her Suburban in the dry cleaners parking lot.<span style=""> </span>He knew pain. <span style=""> </span>The sleet dropped steadily from the sky as she took the last puff on her menthol. <span style=""> </span>Why the tobacco companies didn’t fight harder for their God-given rights to provide Americans with one product, just one single product, that wasn’t made in <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">China</st1:country-region></st1:place>, she would never understand.<span style=""> </span>Her Uncle Phil was out of work since the plant in <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Winston-Salem</st1:place></st1:city> laid off workers because fewer Americans smoke these days.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Last night she was just fine, but today with the wind, the rain, and the leak in her carport, she felt lower than a pregnant pot-bellied pig.<span style=""> </span>Dorothy felt low about once a month.<span style=""> </span>Not <i style="">that</i> week, but the week after.<span style=""> </span>Her mother tried to tell her she didn’t eat enough protein. Well, who has money for protein when the government takes its bite out of every paycheck?<span style=""> </span>
<br /> <!--[if !supportLineBreakNewLine]-->
<br /> <!--[endif]--><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Dorothy swore and stubbed out the cigarette. She really should quit one day.<span style=""> </span>She adjusted the rear view mirror to look closely at the tiny lines around her mouth and decided she’d quit before her 40<sup>th</sup> birthday.<span style=""> </span>That gave her some time to work up to it.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Everyone in her office smoked. Her boss was a cigar man. He chomped on it between client meetings in his small pigeon hole office.<span style=""> </span>Bill was an old-time accountant. He hardly knew what the Internet was, but he knew tax code so well that the IRS banned him from their workshops.<span style=""> </span>About five years ago at a session, he grilled the IRS guy about a code change for so long that the supervisor interrupted, took Bill out back, and threaten to revoke his CPA license.<span style=""> </span>Bill stormed back into the office that day and declared a jihad on the IRS. <span style=""> </span>Clients have benefited every since.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The cigarette wasn’t her only problem this morning.<span style=""> </span>The damn ice made her truck skid and her most prized possession – her Velvet Elvis -- was now damaged. Maybe even damaged beyond repair.<span style=""> </span>Hell, she would just get it cleaned and worry about the tear just above Elvis’ ear on Monday.<span style=""> </span>Or better yet, she’d stay quiet today. Blame the damage on the cleaners and get them to fix it free-of-cost.<span style=""> </span>But this is Good Friday.<span style=""> </span>It’s the weekend of Great Redemption.<span style=""> </span>What’s a good Baptist to do, she wondered? <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Walking into the cleaners, Dorothy replayed last night’s conversation with Brandi in her head.<span style=""> </span>Is she right about Bub? She called him <i style="">a jerk who stole her stereo, sold it, and then lost the money playing poker with Bob Booker.</i><span style=""> </span>Brandi reminded Dorothy that Bub slept with Mary Ellen Fitzheart, the floozy from <st1:place st="on">Forest Hills</st1:place>. She smiles at the name she and Brandi bestowed on Mary Ellen. The others couldn’t be used in public, so that was the name that stuck.<span style=""> </span>Brandi is her best friend and will go with her to the Wal-Mart after work tonight.<span style=""> </span>Brandi works as a fitness trainer in Gold’s Gym. She’s always up for a trip to Wal-Mart. They have the largest selection of Champion athletic wear and in her business, Brandi felt she needed at least one new t-shirt a week. Wal-Mart was her store.<span style=""> </span>Bub’s grandfather is a Greeter there and the last thing Dorothy wants to do is run into him.<span style=""> </span>She could try to avoid him but how do you ignore a 6-foot, 300-pound man who looks like Santa Claus on a bad hair day?<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; display: none;">earHear<span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span><span style=""> </span></span><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><span style=""> </span>Hearing “ready on Friday” brought Dorothy out of her head and into the world.<span style=""> </span>Somehow she daydreamed through the ripped velvet dilemma and is now backing out of the Cleaners heading to her truck, dry cleaning slip in her hand. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Interesting how some things just fix themselves if you don’t mention them, she thought driving to work.<span style=""> </span>She didn’t have to mention the tear to the cleaners. She just knew they would fix it for free.<span style=""> </span>She never mentions her father’s drunkenness to her mother and everyone is always cheerful at the breakfast table.<span style=""> </span>Her mother never mentions her bruises to the minister, and he sees them on Sunday, when she serves his cake at coffee hour. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Maybe she doesn’t have to ever mention Bub’s name ever again.<span style=""> </span>Maybe she’ll meet someone new tonight who takes her mind off Bub. Maybe Brandi is right, she thinks braking for the traffic light. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Bub Sawyer is a jerk who stole my heart and broke it,” she says aloud. “He stole my stereo and sold it. <span style=""> </span>He has become unmentionable!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Across town, Dorothy parks, and walks into her building. She sighs, turns around, and leaves.<span style=""> </span>She needs sugar.<span style=""> </span>The gas station mini-mart has fancy coffees.<span style=""> </span>English Butter Toffee is a far better use of calories than a ham sandwich no matter what her mother says.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">A horn honks and Dorothy jerks her head back at the two trucks at the pumps as she opened the door to the mini-mart.<span style=""> </span>Bam!<span style=""> </span>Dorothy smacks into him. Her forehead bounces against his broad chest.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Bub? Bub Sawyer, you lyin’ sack-a-shit. Get out of my sight. This is<i style=""> my</i> gas station and you cannot be near me today. Or any day.<span style=""> </span>Or ever. Move.<span style=""> </span>Did you hear me?<span style=""> </span>MOVE!”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">
<br />With each word her voice grows louder and shrill enough that her own hair stands on end.<span style=""> </span>By the time she says “move” everyone in the store is watching them.<span style=""> </span>Without thinking she smacked Bub in the stomach.<span style=""> </span>He doubles over, spilling his Big Gulp on her white shirt, and lets out a large<i style=""> oomph</i> of breath.<span style=""> </span>She bursts into tears and hits him again.<span style=""> </span>Her second smack sends his ball cap across the floor faster than an NHL hockey puck.<span style=""> </span>It lands in the middle of the potato chip aisle.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">From his doubled over position, Bub looked up at her, puzzled. Must be that time of the month he thinks, but knows if he says it, he’d get another smack. He straightened up and turned toward the door forgetting his need for caffeine<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“I still love you, you know. You kicked me out and changed the locks.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“You slept with Mary Ellen,” she hissed, feeling the stares of the other customers waiting in line to buy coffees, chips, and the morning paper.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">
<br />“So she says.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><b style=""><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">…..<o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><b style=""><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><b style=""><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><b style=""><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">On Saturday, driving to Lowe’s to pick up flashlights, rope, and a crow bar, Dorothy suggests they get pedicures before breaking into Bub’s trailer.<span style=""> </span>If they get caught, and she has to shower with other women, she wants a fresh coat of Saturday Night Passion polish on her toes.<span style=""> </span>“No sense in looking like <st1:place st="on">Forest Hills</st1:place> floozies in jail,” she says grinning.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">They cruise to the mall. At Nails Plus, Lavern is the only nail tech available. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">
<br />“Out of the question and you know why,” Dorothy huffs as they by-pass Nails Plus and walk the length of the mall. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Brandi sighed.<span style=""> </span>Like the floozy from <st1:place st="on">Forest Hills</st1:place>, Lavern slept with Bub, according to the bathroom wall at The Barn. Bub may have slept with every girl in the county if you believe everything written on the wall at The Barn.<span style=""> </span>At least, that’s what April, Bobbi, Cassie, Doris, Elaine, Frankie, Gerri and about six other “authors” wrote.<span style=""> </span>Bub gets around.<span style=""> </span>Of course, you can’t believe everything written on the wall at The Barn.<span style=""> </span>You can’t even believe what you hear at The Barn, but Dorothy passes on the pedicure and decides to take her chances in jail. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Brandi drives as Dorothy broods. “Take your cat and leave my sweater’ Keith Urban sings. The DJ tells sick color jokes involving cats and Chinese food that offend Brandi and Dorothy who love both cats and Keith Urban. <span style=""> </span>It’s a typical Saturday afternoon in late winter.<span style=""> </span>Grey slush lines the road side as skies hang low with heavy slate clouds. Dark thoughts and little conversation follow them up Route 20.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Both women stare at the Big Boy restaurant near the Lowe’s and decide to get a burger since they can’t get pedicures.<span style=""> </span>“Food is bigger than life anyhow,” Dorothy said looking at Big Boy.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">
<br />“Food is art,” Brandi replied.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Not Big Boy food. It’s just big. Like my love for Bub used to be.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The bouffant blonde hostess looks at them.<span style=""> </span>“You girls must be talking about a man,” she says smiling. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">They sit in a turquoise booth across from each other eating Big Boys, the original double decker hamburger, says the menu. Their window overlooks the parking lot and Lowe’s sign on the corner of <st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">Freeway Drive</st1:address></st1:street>.<span style=""> </span>Lowe’s customers hurry in to the store with their heads down against the winter wind.<span style=""> </span>They struggle out with paint cans, plumbing supplies, and an occasional piece of sheet rock. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Looks like it’s getting colder out,” Dorothy says, munching a French fry covered in catsup and watching the Lowe’s customers. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Not a great day to be poking around places you don’t belong.” Brandi slurps the last of her chocolate milkshake dragging the straw around the bottom of the glass. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">The grey sky begrudgingly allows a sliver of sunshine to slip through. Lowe’s customers continue their in-and-out patterns, heads down against the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">
<br />The waitress walks by, slapped down their check, and moves on to take an order at the booth behind them. As they pay and walk toward the door, Dorothy spots Bub sitting at the counter with his back to them.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Get out. Now!” she hisses.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">They scramble around the back of the restaurant. There it is -- parked diagonally near the trash bin in all its 4-wheel-drive splendor. It’s fresh from the car wash.<span style=""> </span>Water still drips off the rear bumper.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Dorothy jams her hand in her purse and pulls out the truck keys. She smiles triumphantly.<span style=""> </span>They look at the Big Boy as they open each door and climb up into the cab. She turns the key, pushes in the clutch, and puts the truck in gear.<span style=""> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">“Guess we don’t have to break in now,” says Brandi sighing with relief.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Dorothy smiles, “It’s better than breaking-and-entering. It’s Grand Theft Auto.” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; line-height: 200%;" align="center"><span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">-kc<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 200%;">Published Spring Street 2008</p> Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-17405254290125026712010-04-17T09:52:00.001-07:002010-04-17T10:03:23.930-07:00Beijing Here We Come - Ready, or NotI'm frantically trying to add music to my ipod for the long flight to Beijing on Monday. I've not learned a word of Chinese, nor have I finished a single guide book, memoir, or historical novel. I'm well prepared for this journey, she says with a grin.<br /><br />I have, however, packed and repacked my suitcases, been to the bank for a wad of dollar bills, had my hair cut, and purchased gum and candy for the flight. I've packed books, (Thanks Susan!) and magazines, set the away message on my work email, stopped the newspaper, and arranged a ride to the airport (Thanks Jon!). After the one-day trip to Washington that turned into 4 days in Raleigh, I have a ditty bag with me that has the overnight necessities. That is one travel mistake I won't make again!<br /><br />I've warned everyone to watch my FB posts as there are so many Internet cafes and access places in China. I promise not to post anything controversial. Now, if you are one of my FB friends, you know that in a regular week several days pass between posts. I spend about 12 hours a day with a computer near my typing fingers, yet I my posts are less than daily. Oh well, I am sure that this trip to China will prompt me to share more broadly. And i have renamed this blog as a travel blog. With the vast amount of travel that I do, I'm covered. One blog entry, a trip every three or four years. Yes, I think I can handle that commitment.<br /><br />Friends and colleagues ask "Are you excited?" and they seem so disappointed when I say, "No. I have too much to do." International travel does take some preparation. I think today most of it is mental. I'm off to go exercise my mind.Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-71865723279065721252009-03-24T11:29:00.000-07:002009-03-24T11:31:22.605-07:00Coming Soon- Lent and Repent .. an amusing short story of redemptionKate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23247845.post-1141256259644076342006-03-01T15:33:00.000-08:002006-03-01T15:42:26.216-08:00Call of the Gulf<span style="font-family:lucida grande;"> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Next week I"m heading to Gautier, MS with 34 near-strangers to spend a week *mucking out* houses and helping re-build and rejuvenate a beautiful part of the world. A friend told me he thought it would be heart breaking. I said I think sometimes you have to break your heart to learn about love again. I plan to use this blog to record my trip for myself, my family, and my friends. If you're interested in one person's perceptions, thoughts, and feelings, then come along!</span><br /></span>Kate Careyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02806839208447021717noreply@blogger.com2