I bought more azaleas.  And yesterday John--my gardener who comes every Monday for a couple of hours--planted them.  Coral Bells.  I've tried to find some for the last two years, but everyone sells out before I can get any.  They are a cultivar that is especially "Oklahoman."  But Saturday when I went to the nursery, I intercepted a man who was bringing a cart of them in, and grabbed four.  I went back later to get a few more and they were all gone.  Should have bought them when I found them.

There are so many things I should have done when I had the chance.  The moment comes, you hesitate, and the moment goes.  We seem to think there will always be another day--but that's not always true.  Especially with children.

I remember once, when we were coming to Oklahoma from out west--probably California--we told the kids they could buy one souvenir apiece.  Becky wanted cactus candy.  But it was so expensive that I kept saying, "It will be cheaper the next time we stop."  But it never got cheaper and the next time never came, because the next place didn't have any.  And the cactus candy in the desert was too far behind us to go back. Pat and Scott got what they wanted.  Becky didn't.  She was just a little girl and was so disappointed.  Makes me sad to remember.  Wish I could go back.

You can't go back.  When the moment comes to do something, don't hesitate.  I am so analytical that I over think every thing I do.  Not good sometimes.  "I should have," are sad words.  Because you can never capture the moment or the opportunity again for some things.

I've been to Paris a number of times.  And when we go, I always love the flea markets.  People come in to a certain street, back up to the sidewalk and unload their vans.  Hundreds of treasures spill out onto the sidewalks.  My kind of fun.  But deciding what to buy escapes me and while I've been trying to make up my mind about something, someone else buys it.  Becky says, "Quit thinking about it.  Just buy it. You want it.  It's really cheap.  You won't be back here for years--maybe never.  What is your problem?"  Not that things are important, but memories are.

She learned that lesson in the desert when she didn't get her cactus candy.  It's a memory.