The notion extends to other things, too. You see people on Antiques Roadshow who haul something out of the trash Dumpster or give $2 for it at a garage sale, only to find out it’s worth $20,000 or more. Not that it’s ever happened to me. The trash I find is, sadly, trash.

But I do have some throwaway flowers that I love. When we bought this place 18 years ago, there were irises planted alongside the driveway. The old man who tended them warned me that they needed to be divided that fall or they’d quit blooming.

Never having grown irises, I dutifully went out one warm September day, dug them all up, divided them, and replanted them. And replanted. And replanted. I ran out of energy, time, and room in the flowerbed long before I ran out of bulbs, so I carried them off to the edge of the woods in the side yard, dumped them, and headed inside to recover from the new and unusual strains on my body.

Fast forward a few years. I look out in the side yard and see bright pops of color just inside the tree line. The bulbs I’d dumped had taken root, grown, and were producing beautiful blooms. (I’m guessing it’s thanks to critters that while I dumped them all in one spot, they grow over an area about twelve feet wide.) I don’t do anything to them, yet they dazzle the trees with their overachieving blossoms every year.

My kind of flower.

That’s him with our grandkiddo, Cam, learning to wear the cap for his upcoming experience. I went to OSU myself, as did both my sisters, BILs, nieces, and most friends. (Yes, Bob went to OU. We are a mixed marriage.) I’m an orange person anyway, so I loved the orange tie (Go, Pokes!) and also the red/white/blue cords that show Brandon is a veteran. (Army proud, Army strong!)

Then last night Cam had his own graduation.

Pre-K graduation is a very big event, you know. To hear Cam tell it, he worked at least as hard for this day as Daddy did for the OSU graduation.

The kids sang a couple songs, received their diplomas, and, with the teacher’s encouragement, a few of them tried tossing their caps.

At least Cam caught his. The other boy’s landed up on a shelf with the sock puppets.

The kids were really more interested in the snacks they got after the ceremony than showing off their diplomas. Diplomas are cool, don’t get me wrong, but come on: it was cupcakes!

When it was over, Granddaddy got a picture of Cam and me for posterity.

Then he got one that captures us as we really are.

Happy graduation, silly Willy, sweetie Petey, Camo pup. We love you!!

As I venture into a new chapter, I hadn’t realized that the Princess would be forced into a new one too. We’ve never lived more than an hour or so away from each other. Now we will be a few hours. To be together will take a bit more planning, which will depend on her schedule.

The old saying about giving your children roots and wings is true. I know I’ve done that with Amy. What she might not know is that she’s given me the same thing. She’s the one who stayed on my butt to finish that book, to laugh in the face of being rejected, who stood by when part of my life fell apart then came together. We faced trials and she was my oasis of stability. I did what I thought was best for her, and she returned the favor by dragging me to that first diving class.

A few years ago, she told me to go live my own life. She gave me my wings. Thank you, my daughter. I have spread them and love who I’ve become. (I don’t have to tell her that as she has led by example too.) There is one thing she may not fully comprehend is that wherever I shall roam, she will always have a home.

And a room waiting for her to land, whether a touch and go, or forever.

Apryl and I logged our first dive together. She was still teaching a student. I was sorry that it was so short but with a class schedule to maintain that weekend in Athens, I’m glad we got what time underwater that we did.

Saturday, May 4, was my only dive of the weekend. It wasn’t the 71 degree water, or doing the wetsuit wiggle in a 7 mil suit, or wearing a hood. It was getting out with the wind whipping in from the north.

Cold is cold and bone chilling–wet or dry.

Gearing up

Apryl leading a dive briefing

Me…I stayed on the dock.

Once I did get there, I was thrilled to see my good friends, especially Apryl. We may not talk on a regular basis but she’s in my thoughts a lot. I took Rescue Diver from her in 2008. I wasn’t sure I was going to pass the course much less have it change my life forever.

What I didn’t see in myself, Apryl saw. Maybe that’s why she made me take the open water skills twice. Rescue Diver is more than learning to rescue another diver, you learn to rescue yourself. There have been so many times out of the water that I remember what Apryl taught. I also found my voice. Now that’s a wonderful thing to discover even though I was in my 50s.

Apryl, and Ken, encouraged me to take my dive training one step further. Divemaster, which I earned! in 2010. I’ve met some lifelong friends through diving. And that makes me one rich woman.

Or perhaps I’m paying for my raising. Like I’ve mentioned, I wasn’t the best daughter. Now I can’t remember the last time I had either of my kids here with me on Mother’s Day. (Of course, I have senior moments.) It’s not like they don’t do anything. Cards, calls, texts, maybe even a post on my Facebook wall. The one gift I want from them is the one they don’t have enough of to give me.

Time.

Yep, poison ivy! I’ve rolled in the stuff before and never had a problem. Apparently, weed-eating slings the nasty stuff everywhere! My normal yard attire is a cut off shirt, shorts and leather tennis shoes that don’t seem to mind the occasional slip when I try to trim them.

I would only wish this misery on a few people I’ve encountered, but NOT before a dive weekend. I do thank weather for being cold enough to wear a hoodie out of the water and a hood in so I could cover my hideous face.

To add insult to injury, I stepped in a fire ant bed. Now my ankles are covered with ugly red spots.

There has been one benefit. While shopping, I noticed that people avoid me, and I get checked out fast!

I’m not sure what the eclectic collection of books and items say about me–maybe that I’m truly twisted.

Y’all have a wonderful weekend!

I thought the move a few boxes put them away then get more would work. Uh, no. It prolongs the agony of sore muscles, achy back, and two huge lawns to mow.

But, it will all be worth it in the end.

Say what? So, I called the number on the letter begging me to come back. The customer service operator, Evan–he sounded cute–was very nice, as was I. He apologized as he’d heard the recorded message, but he cautioned that sometimes people need a gentle reminder. Yeah, really?

I, being the person that I am, reminded dear Evan that DISH was the one who has FAILED to send me return labels, yada yada yada. How can I return their property without an address? Ah, Evan put in another request for them to send me a box to ship the receiver back.

“But I kept the original box!” For I seldom throw stuff away, therefore the dilemma of too much junk to sort through while moving.

“Great,” said Evan. I could tell he was really thinking WTF is she doing keeping a box by the tone in his voice.

So after getting the return address, cramming the stuff in the box (with proper padding because I have a ton of bubble wrap) I have sent the receiver, 2 remotes, telephone wire and cable connectors, plus a few extra that I had around the house just for good measure, back to the DISH NETWORK El Paso Drop Off Equipment Location.

Hope they have a really sharp knife. I am a pro at taping now.