“The Pro Bass Shops Experience”

 

 

            A few months ago, my husband decided to pick up archery. Crafty as usual, he designed and built his own bows. He purchased his arrows at our local Academy, and he used old delivery boxes for target practice. At least, he did until the last box, riddled with holes, succumbed to rain and fell apart. My son decided to buy a target for his father, and he suggested we venture across town to experience The Pro Bass Shops in San Antonio.

            The half-hour drive proved worth it. I entered the huge cabin/warehouse with mouth agape. Pausing in the entryway, my eyes drifted upward three stories. To the right, snuggling around a fireplace, sat plush leather couches. Ahead, I spied rock walls with waterfalls pooling into another seating area where several couples sat on wooden benches. To the left grouped clothing and further on a restaurant. To the right moored several different models of boats.

            We didn’t linger downstairs, but instead headed straight up to the archery gear. Well, after we meandered by millions of knives, billions of bullets, and trillions of toys to temp hunters of all shapes and sizes. Once my husband settled upon the perfect target, we wandered through camping gear, settled briefly on the camouflaged couch, planned Christmas gifts, and lusted after a canoe. I found long searched for flannel shirts in a wide variety of colors, and briefly flirted with the idea of buying one of Uncle Si’s Tupperware cups. 

  

 

From Uncle Si (thefakeunclesi) on Twitter

 

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“Hot, With a Chance of Sweat”

 

            Hot flashes.

            Two words that can spark an animated conversation among women “of a certain age.” I witnessed an outpouring of sympathetic comments just the other day when a friend confided at the dinner table that lately she woke up drenched. Did I suffer from the same female fate? Another friend posted a status update with vivid descriptive details of her soaking her sheets the night before. About five other women shared their experiences, along with comments regarding menopause and hormone fluctuations.

            How many times in the past did my cheeks flame red while perspiration suddenly beaded along my upper lip or formed a rivulet at my hairline? How often did I frantically kick aside covers, desperate to get air on my legs, only to pull the blanket tightly around me a few minutes later?

            Should I admit to the days (weeks, months, and—yes, years) that my temper flared as hot as my cheeks? Should I reveal the twisted intensity of emotional upheaval that would temporarily disintegrated my ability to reason? Should I confess that waves of hormonal oscillation left me unpredictable, even to myself?

            Fortunately, my spiral into midlife happened relatively rapidly, although I’m certain my family would describe the change as gruelingly slow. On the other side now, I rarely feel my temper explode with unexpected fire. I don’t glance into the mirror to see cheeks slapped red by middle age. Although I occasionally frantically fight against the covers that entrap my legs and send my temperature soaring, I don’t flood my sheets and nightgown.

            Gratitude fills me that my suffering proved milder and shorter-lived than many women’s torment. Comfortable in my skin, now, I look forward to the next adventures of life and wonder what forecasts lay ahead.

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

“Before and After”



David and Paul in Live Oak 1988.



Live Oak today!



 

            Our house, built in 1966, lives. Its slow evolution reflects our changing needs along with our shifting styles. Originally shingled with asbestos siding in a muted grey-green, the house now dresses in grey with red trim. The footprint, a mere thousand square feet in the beginning, now sports an addition of a family room, master bedroom, and master bathroom. Landscaping, once immature trees and bushes, towers over the lot. Inside, rooms transformed from plain beige tones to pastel tints to vibrant hues.

 

 

 

           


 I began documenting our home’s progression through photography. In the early years, the transformations appeared as background to our personal growth. In recent years, my camera records a project before we begin and after we finish.

 

 

  

        So many people now-a-days move frequently that they never get the pleasure of watching a small Live Oak reach maturity. They don’t have the opportunity to flourish with their homes. I count myself fortunate that I’ve sunk in roots and grown.

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

           

 

 

"My Obsession"

 

 

 

I awoke to silky rain.

No thunderous clouds boiling the morning skies,
nor fists of lightning pounding the heavens.

Just cool, smooth drops that gather on leaves,

pool together with a common goal,
and stream down to heal.
To nurture.
Scarce and valuable,
this liqueur makes me giddy.
Sheltering my lens,
I dodge under the trees.
My determined heart longing,
longing to capture
to record
to preserve this memory.

 

Copyright 2013 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

 

"The Mother"



"Nature Unveiled" by David Chapman   

Spirit of the earth   

nurture and comfort me   

cradle me within your open arms   

succor my hunger with your hope   

slake my thirsty psyche with new visions of our past   

celebrate the sun’s journey   

sing of the moon’s wax and wane   

pull me into your sacred circle   

ease my isolation by weaving me with gossamer     

to your core   

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman