Looking Back

Another year is coming to an end. They whiz by so quickly now. I long for the years of my youth that seemed to take at least 3 years to complete. Now they are gone in a few short months.

This has been a monumental year for me. I became a grandmother - twice. But more importantly, I've been blessed to experience a year in which my children became the people I always hoped they would be.

My daughter is learning patience - with the help of her daughter - and the value of relaxing. She's learned that anything is possible with the right person at your side. And she's learned that home is the most wonderful place on earth.

My son, who has always had a big heart, is learning that his capacity for love is boundless. He's learned - from his son - that he is truly not the center of the universe and his time can always be better spent taking care of someone else. And he's learned to finally trust someone with his heart.

Me, I've learned to trust my children. Although they both still come to me for advice and guidance and unconditional love, they don't need me like they used to. They're doing fine. That was hard for a control freak such as myself to learn, but my children have patiently taught this to me through their actions. They have good lives.

Dummy Lights

I love the little dummy lights that are on the dash of cars. The newer the car the more lights. I don't have someone at home to periodically check all those mechanical things, so having the car check itself is great.

Cars have always had the oil/engine one - but if it came on it was almost too late already. The light should come on when it's just beginning to veer off the norm, so you have time to get an appointment at the garage.

My car has one that tells me when the air pressure in my tires is not what it's supposed to be. Isn't that great? I no longer have to cajole my son into checking the air pressure, or listen to him admonish me for not learning how to do this myself (some things I just don't want to do.) Now the car tells me when I need air.

Now, when they invent a car that fixes itself I'll be all set.

Soup

I love making and eating soup. For me, soup is not just a winter food - it's a constant!

The only thing I don't like about soup is recipes. I never use them -- well, except for ideas. Soups evolve from ingredients at hand, ideas seen elsewhere, current mood of the day, and spontenaity.

Last night I made bean soup. I use the packaged dried beans that have a dozen or so varieties in one bag. (I skip the flavor packet that come with it because it has too much sodium.) Into this mix I added ham (leftover from Christmas), carrots, onions, garlic, barley, and a myriad of spices (most notably cumin and black pepper.) The end product is wonderful!

So, today my lunch is bean soup. As it will be tomorrow and the next day. The only thing I'm missing is the thickly-buttered homemade bread to accompany the soup . . . but I'll remember it when I pack tomorrow's lunch.

Calendars

With the new year approaching, I've realized that I haven't gotten a new calendar yet. I'm not a huge fan of calendars. I can have one hanging up and forget to change the month for several months. I keep most of my appointment information on my Google calendar - which sends me texts to let me know what is coming (cool, huh?) But everyone needs a calendar hanging somewhere in the house (typically kitchen) that they can refer to when you are making plans and need to know what date is the first Saturday . . . or something like that.

I used to have multiple calendars. I'd have a desk blotter calendar, a kitchen calendar, a planner in my purse, a little stand-up calendar that my insurance agent sends me, a calendar in my office (often the shirtless cowboys one)and a little card calendar that I could keep in my wallet. Somewhere along the way I stopped needing calendars. I'm not sure why.

My need for calendars ended only a few years after I stopped needing a watch. I could try to say that it has something to do with a changing philosophy of life and living as opposed to being a slave to a schedule, but it probably is just another facet of getting older.

Sunday Morning

My favorite TV news program is CBS Sunday Morning. I like it for a lot of reasons - most importantly, it's more relaxed, never rushing through stories, no epileptic sequence of video clips, just telling stories. I also like it because it's typically "good" news. It often features artists, musicians and writers. It gives wonderful commentary on real life and real people and just a touch of comedy. It's like lounging around with the Sunday paper, only on TV.

But, I've got to go now, I've got to make my tea before it comes on.

Bed

I read an article once that money truly can buy happiness - sort of. There are certain things that you can spend money on that will give you a happiness return on your investment.

I cannot remember what all the options were, but one stuck in my mind. It said that money you put into your bedroom comes back in restful sleep and a happier next day. I took this article to heart and made some investments.

A couple years ago I bought a new bed. Then one Christmas my daughter got me a thick foam mattress topper. Then another Christmas she bought me high-thread-count sheets. Then this past summer I invested in pillows - not cheap pillows.

I've got to say, that when I sink into my bed each evening, it is heaven. And crawling out of my bed is very difficult in the morning.

So, it's true. Money can buy happiness.

Christmas

Today is Christmas. I'm not a huge fan, but I love any excuse for family to get together. This Christmas was one of the better I've ever had. It was noticably absent any drame (a usual staple in our Christmas celebratin.)

In fact, the weather was the only part of the day that was disappointing. Gotta love a holiday that doesn't disappoint.

Christmas Movies

I sat here this evening and watched a few more sappy Christmas movies. It doesn't matter how many times I watch some of them, I'm game to watch again when they come on the next year. I'm not sure why.

Life never seems to be as tragic or as happily ever after as these movies. Some have outlandish plot lines. And some are just poorly written and/or acted. But I can't seem to help myself.

The same type of movie I probably wouldn't have patience for any other time of the year, but I'm thankful that once a year I can lose myself in holiday movies.

Desserts

My office had it's holiday luncheon today. There are only four of us, so it's not a really big deal. Each year the boss pulls out the company credit card, closes the office, and makes reservations at a nice restaurant in the area.

In an attempt to get as much from the luncheon as possible (it is, after all, our only Christmas bonus) we all order appetizers and desserts with our meal. Today my meal was average - a nice Ceasar salad and some shrimp and bow tie pasta with a very strange orangish sauce, but dessert was heavenly.

It was called Cajun Bread Pudding - I'm not sure where the Cajun influence came in (unless they are whiskey drinkers because the sauce was supposed to be made with whiskey - though I couldn't taste it.) But I have to say, it was heavenly. It was a normal bread pudding, sprinkled with soft raisins, and covered in a heavenly peachy-colored cream sauce. It was the best part of the meal.

Sometimes life doesn't bring us much, but if we can get a nice dessert out of it once in a while, it's worth it.

It's a Wrap

I wrapped gifts last night. Finally. It's not that I mind wrapping, it's just that sometimes the space to spread out and enjoy wrapping gets limited. I didn't pull out the bows - I didn't get that "into it" but everyone's gift is now at least covered with bright holiday paper and placed festively under my table-top tree.

I remember years when I tried to go all out with wrapping. Fancy ribbons and bows. Each gift looking different than the last. But sometime in the last few years its become less and less important. Maybe the urge to create masterpieces will return someday, but until then, if you get a gift from me - it's just wrapped.

Winter

Winter officially begins today. No, I didn't look at the calendar - that date means nothing, just an arbitrary day on the calendar. I know that Winter officially began today because I fell on my ass. Yep, first step on my sidewalk was punctuated by first butt on the sidewalk. Of course legs went in opposite directions.

There was no way to stop myself. It was completely invisible and both hands were full on my way to the car (see earlier post.)

On the drive to work it crossed my mind that maybe I should have gone back into the house and gotten some salt to put on the sidewalk. I'll just have to keep my fingers crossed that no one else celebrates the first day of Winter as I did.

Aches and Pains

I woke up this morning with a few minor aches - most notably in my lower back and shoulders - and wondered why. It was a few hours later, while enjoying my second cup of tea and 3 pain reliever tablets, that I realized it was probably because of last night's shoveling. After all, I'd spent over an hour and a half outside moving snow. Which, by the way, is not an easy endeavor when you are standing in snow that reaches well past your knees. (Note to self: start an in-house savings jar to have cash on hand to pay someone else to do this next time!)

I had to laugh. I guess if you're going to get old and have aches and pains when you do activities, it's good that your memory is going too.

Snow Storm

We had a snow storm today. I just shoveled about 18" off my sidewalk and it's still snowing.

As I was wading through this snow trying to shovel it, I kept thinking of how I enjoyed it when I had teenagers at home who would do this for me. Terri was most likely to volunteer. It seemed she always had a friend here when we had the worst snowstorms and so enjoyed the excuse to go out and be a little crazy in the snow. Something about deep snow always brought out her crazy side. Any other day would have had her griping about the cold, but if there was snow she wanted to be out in it.

One snowy day she came home all excited. She had managed to get on the local news as she had been uptown playing near the TV station. We all had to stay up until the 11:00 pm news so we could tape it.

So I was thigh deep in the snow today wondering why none of the teens walking up and down the street seemed to be enjoying the snow. I think it's just further evidence that young people try to grow up too quickly. Terri enjoyed being young as absolutely long as she could.

Pajamas - Revisited

I stopped at the grocery store on my way to work this morning and saw a man loading his groceries in his car. He looked like he was wearing pajamas. The print was of a football team logo so I wasn't sure. But when I got close enough to pass him I saw that they were indeed pajamas and he was also wearing slippers. This was an adult man - probably in his 40s!

I have seen women wearing the pajama bottoms at the mall a lot - but they were all young, so I forgave them their ignorance. I just figured they were doing it for shock value. Some take it too far and wear the fuzzy slippers too. But, again, they're young. They'll learn.

A few weeks ago I saw a lady walking along the street in pajamas and slippers. I assumed she was going to the little market that was ahead of her. I couldn't help but wonder what emergency item did she need that her sense of urgency precluded her from stopping to put on a pair of pants and shoes. I wouldn't even expect her to put on a shirt - after all, she was wearing a coat. But come on!

When did we stop caring how we appeared in public. Now, I'm not expecting makeup and styled to the nines, but maybe clothes! When did it become okay to wear pajamas as outdoor clothing? Did I miss that memo?

Is it a sign of getting old when I find fault with the trends of the youth?

Sleep

I don't do well without sleep. I'm not a 6-hour a night person. I want at least 8 or 9 before I feel truly refreshed. I can get by on less for a short time, but eventually it hits me and I'm a vegetable.

Last night I didn't sleep well. Well, that's not accurate. I slept well - really well - until 1:30 am. Then I woke up and felt completely alert. I could have sworn it was morning. I looked at the clock (proud of myself for waking up before the alarm)and gasped when I saw the time. I cuddled with Winnie a bit and snuggled down to go back to sleep. But didn't. I couldn't go back to sleep. I was awake.

Sometime around 3:00 am I decided that I would try to watch TV for a bit - at that time of morning that should surely bore me to sleep. No such luck. I was starting to get frantic. How will I get through my day without a little more sleep? I tossed and turned and tossed some more. Finally, at about 4:10 am I started to feel a little drowsy again. I put the covers over my head and tried one more time. This time (after I don't know how long) there was success.

Needless to say I wanted to toss the freaking alarm when it went off at 6:00 am. I turned it off and snoozed again until 7:00 am -- my drop-dead time to get up. I yawned through my shower and makeup. I yawned through my commute. I yawned through my morning meeting. I haven't even eaten lunch yet because I'm just too tired. I tried an extra cup of tea, but nothing is taking any weight off my eyelids.

I wish I could go home right now and take a nap, but I've got a meeting after work. I won't get home until almost 8:30 pm. And all I can think about is - what if I can't sleep again tonight?

Breakfast for Dinner

I love to eat breakfast for dinner.

I love to make eggs, corned beef hash, and toast in the evening. I love pancakes for weekend suppers. These meals are better suited for evening than for morning. Probably because I have to get up early to commute to work, and these meals are too heavy for 7:00 am.

I'm not much for cereal in the evening. When I do have it, it means I had a busy day and don't even have the energy to heat up leftovers. So, it happens, but cereal just isn't exciting enough.

Actually, dinner is when I eat most of my breakfasts. In fact, I don't eat much in the morning - at least not typically. And because of this, if I didn't eat breakfasts for dinner, I'd never get to enjoy these meals.

Gifts

I think gift giving - Christmas included - should be more about what I want to give you rather than what you want.

It's too difficult to get things that people want - first and foremost because, as adults, we go out and buy what we want. So that list is probably pretty small. And if you haven't bought it for yourself it's either a) too expensive, or b) something you're not sure you want. Second, buying what people want is too limiting. Maybe they would want it, but didn't know about it. Some of the best gifts I've gotten were ones I didn't know I wanted . . . until I got it.

So, I think we should give gift that we want to give. It's the thought that counts, right? If I think it's funny to give you the singing bass on a plaque - then that's what I should give you. Maybe you won't hang it on your wall, but I got enjoyment out of giving it to you. Ok, maybe that one was a little too far out there, but you get the idea.

Or maybe it should be a combination of the two - something you want to give, but that you think they will want once they see it. And if all else fails - give gift cards and let them do their own damn shopping.

More Weather

What is up with this weather? It was in the 50s today!!!!

Last week the wind was bitter cold and today I only needed a light jacket. Not that I'm complaining. I like the more fall-like weather, but it's really hard to know how to dress in the morning.

Everyone talks about how the winters aren't as cold as they used to be. I agree. But. . . I think my perceptions are a bit off. It was cold. I remember getting up in the morning as a child and needing to sit in front of the gas heater to get dressed. I also remember walking to the bus stop on a country road (no concrete sidewalks to hold the heat from the day before.) I remember the water pipes freezing on a regular basis - unless you left the faucet dripping. I remember weating boots to school a lot. I remember lots of red, runny noses. I definitely remember it snowing more and being colder. But I was a kid and I had the perceptions of a kid.

Was it really colder? I'll leave that to the weathermen to track and tell me.

Weather

I watch the weather every morning. I'm not sure why. The only thing I truly understand about what they are saying is the temperature. I don't understand what a front is. I don't understand what they mean by pressure. I don't understand those maps with all the wavy lines. I like it when they put the little grid up with the pictures - you know, the sunshine, the rain cloud, the snowflake. I wonder if they have little air funnels in tornado alley?

I'm a reasonably intelligent person and yet I've never been concerned with my lack of weather knowledge and so I've never bothered to learn it. I know a lot of things, and most of them I've learned because they've interested me at some point. But weather doesn't.

At least not yet.

Jammies

We have a hot and cold relationship with jammies during our lives. When we are little we love them. They have feet, they have superheros on them, they're stretchy and comfy. We take pride in them.

Then when we're older, they are the only thing we don't wear to bed. We wear tee shirts, sweats, and sometimes nothing. But we don't wear jammies.

But then when we're older (the age of 51 comes to mind) we love our jammies again. A comfy and stretchy pair of jammies can be our favorite clothing. I can't wait to change into the jammies as soon as I get home in the evening. And sometimes on a weekend I may never change out of the jammies.

After all, I'll just be going to bed again at the end of the day.

Heachache

I hate headaches!

The worst are the all-over headaches that seem to make your whole head throb. It doean't have to be severe (no head exploding) but just a minor throb. Do that all day long and you feel as though you could easily go nuts.

I have had that headache - in varying degrees of severity - for 2 days.

So . . . I don't feel like writing.

Wish I Had a Camera

The sunset is beautiful today.

My desk faces a wall of windows (for now, we're moving in January) and so I get to watch the weather and the seasons change as I work. (Ok, and the garbage trucks pull in but the good views far outweigh the bad views.)

Tonight the sky is a medium blue, fading down into a light blueish grey, fading down into a pale rose, fading down into a medium rose, and then the horizon. But the sky isn't what's beautiful - it's the silhouettes of the bare trees that are between my window and the sky. Many would say that the dark silhouettes are depressing, but I find them to be almost lacy. And the start contrast between the sunset sky and the black silhouetes is completely serene and just . . . beautiful.

I wish I had my camera with me.

Cold Feet

I've discovered something about myself. I don't make sense. Yep, you heard it here first.

All day long my feet are cold. In the evening I leave socks on with my slippers because my feet just can't get warm . . . without sitting on them but that ship sailed about 50 pounds ago.

But . . . at night my feet are too hot. I can be snuggled in bed with a quilt tucked up tight to my neck, and yet my feet are sticking out of the blanket. In fact, it's gotten so bad that I never tuck my blankets in at the foot of the bed - it makes it too hard to kick my feet out. Since I keep my thermostat set at about 64-65 at night, eventually they get chilled and I have to pull them in - but it doesn't take long before they are sticking out again.

So, there it is. I don't make sense.

Swine Protected

I had my annual physical today. I have 2 referrals, 1 prescription, 4 lab tests pending, 1 physical therapy exercise to do, 1 skin cyst to watch, 1 followup appointment, and 2 bandaids from vaccine injections. Yes, in addition to updating my Tetnus, I got my H1N1 antiviral shot. I had no qualms about getting it - I get a flu shot every year and this is just a bit of antiviral that didn't get manufactured in time to get it into the season shot. I can't see what everyone worries about.

The doctor took his time with me, answered all my questions, gave me lots of suggestions, and laughed at my feeble attempts at humor regarding my status as an old, naked lady wearing a bedsheet.

All in all I suppose it was a good experience.

Fitness Test

While surfing the internet yesterday I came across a site that wanted you to test your physical fitness. It didn't give you any results, but rather its goal was to get you to test a few things and then go back again in a couple weeks and test again and then go back a few weeks later and do the same. It was more of a way you could see your own progress over a period of time.

Now, I didn't think I'd ever find the website again, but I wanted, just for the heck of it, to take the test. It was, after all, really short and I had time.

The first test was how many sit ups you could do in one minute. I didn't do them quickly, but I was proud of myself. The second test was how many push ups you could do in one minute. I did the "girl" push ups - actually, I tried the regular push ups and found I could do zero no matter what time I was given. So, I cheated a little, but I did them. The final test told me to go up and down the stairs as quickly as I could for 3 minutes and then check my heart rate. Minute one was great, I was flying up and down the stairs. Minute two I was slower, but I was still keeping a steady pace. Minute three would never have happened if I didn't have a handrail. I was pulling myself up the stairs and I thought my chest would explode. But I did it. I completed everything. I felt good. I wasn't as bad off as I thought.

Until today. I found climbing stairs today to be excruciating. My muscles were locked in position and refused to lift my foot to go up the stairs. After some begging, the muscles let me move but they spent the rest of the day reminding me that I really owed them.

Ok, maybe I am as bad off as I thought.

Deck the Halls

It's the first weekend in December and traditionally this is when I put up the Christmas tree and any other Christmas decorations that I am going to put up. But it's Sunday evening and I haven't even opened the closet to look for the boxes.

Last year I put a holiday runner on the table and set a pre-lighted small tree on top of it. And that was it. I thought about putting up the big tree, but just didn't. I'm not depressed that my kids aren't here on Christmas any longer. I do get to see them either on Christmas or a day or two following. And I picked this - I wanted Thanksgiving, I've given the in-laws Christmas.

No, it's not depression. It's a matter of scheduling. I seem to have time to put up the tree, but in the last several years it has become harder and harder to find the time to take it down. The last year I put up the big tree it was mid January before I found time to take it down. And, while a decorated tree makes you feel festive in mid December, coming home to the same tree in mid January makes you feel nauseated.

So, at least for this year, there won't be any decking the halls. Maybe next year.

Grocery Store

I have been working on my grocery list tonight. I should go to the grocery store tomorrow, but will probably wait until after my meeting on Monday night.

I'm not putting it off because I dread it. I just need a day of hibernating and getting chores accomplished. No, I never dread doing the grocery shopping - I love it.

I'm not sure why. Maybe it has to do with having a very "lean" childhood when it came to food on the table. We always had food, just never any to spare. My mom would open one quart of her home-canned green beans or corn as the side dish to feed a family of 5. This might have something to do with it.

But it could just be because I love food. I love eating it. I love cooking it. I love walking down the aisles and seeing all the possibilities and potential meals. I love living in an age and in a country that allows the selection we have -- I'm sure we have at least 8 varieties of apples and five shelves of crackers. I don't have to buy peanut butter (although there are about 15 brands and styles) because I can buy almond butter. It's crazy!

Now that I think about it, this is probably why I watch the Food Network too.

Exhaustion

I'm totally exhausted. We had a work meeting today that began at 8:00 am (meaning I was up a little before 6:00 am) and went until after 5:00, at which time we reconvened at another location for appetizers and drinks, at which time we reconvened at a restaurant for dinner. Whew.

It's now after 10:30 pm and I've been home for only 15 mnutes. My head hurts, my dog is crying and practically sitting on the keyboard, and I'm ready for bed so I can get up and do the same thing tomorrow.

And I was the first one to leave - they might all still be sitting there!

I'm all for Stategic Planning - but do the days have to be so long? Couldn't we plan just as strategicly if we had 8-hour days? Maybe exhaustion is a factor. Maybe people are more creative on the brink of a nervous collapse. Or maybe its a plot by those 4-hour a night sleepers to take over. "Sure you agreed with this, remember, it was on the morning of the 2nd day that we all discussed it. You were there." Hmmm, that sounds plausible.

My Kids

I have 2 wonderful kids. I consider myself blessed to have them and took it very seriously that I had to turn these little bundles of joy into decent adults . . . somehow.

I think they were adorable babies. They were cute toddlers. Precocious grade schoolers. And then came middle school and high school and they were . . . alright.

But no matter what they put me through, I still loved them fiercely and only wanted the best for them. And even when they were "lacking" in, well, basic civility and compassion, I would still walk through fire for them and I protect them like a mother tiger against anyone who dared to treat them badly. Even if in that instance, they had deserved to be treated badly. In fact, several times my son has asked me why I kept putting up with him. He didn't understand. I had no choice.

And I thought about all this today. Like I have many times in the past. But today I wondered . . . I wondered if they understand now. Now that they both have babies of their own, I wonder if it's clear to them how I kept putting up with them and loving them. I put up with them when they treated me badly, when they withheld their love from me, when they put me through torturous worry with bad decisions and late nights, and just when the acted like stupid teenagers. No matter what.

And as I think about this again today - I think that finally they probably do.

Bathroom Chatter

Today I went to the restroom before lunch. No sooner had closed the stall door when someone from another office came in and immediately asked me a question.

What? You don't do that! There is no talking in bathroom stalls! I don't even know her and I've never spoken to her before. Why now? Why here?

Obviously no one ever taught her that stall conversations were a no no (except to ask for extra TP if yours is empty) and so I politely answered her. But she kept chatting and kept asking questions. I'm trying to do "my business" and she's asking me about the temperature on my side of the building and whether people in my office have to wear sweaters. (According to my bathroom mate, her office could hang meat - which I assumed to mean it was as cold as a meat locker, but I'm not really sure.)

Although I was aghast, I held up my side of the conversation and just waited for her to leave. I could outwait her. And I did, but it wasn't easy. She took her time washing her hands and then stayed to finish her thought. But she did finally leave and I set to finishing "my business" in silence.

Or . . . is it just me?

Parking

I love living in the city. I love the sidewalks. I love being close to everything. I love the noise. I love everything . . . except the parking.

Because I live on a narrow, one-way street, there is parking only on one side of the street. And because the city was late in establishing rules that if you turn a single family dwelling into a multi-family dwelling you better have the parking places to back it up, that one side fills up really quickly. So, driving home at almost 8:00 pm I was not at all surprised to find no parking spaces empty. I was lucky enough, however, to get the first spot around the corner. But I had to walk.

Tonight I stopped at the grocery store on my way home from work. I had with me a work bag, a college bag (I taught tonight), a water bottle, a purse, and 5 grocery bags. (BTW: I didn't buy that much but these days they put only one or two things in each bag so that you end up carrying more bags than necessary. Why is that?) Oh, and as you remember from the earlier post, I hate to make more than one trip.

Anyway, I manage to put the college and work bags on my left shoulder (precarious because both are filled thick and sticking out from my side) my purse on my right shoulder, my water bottle in my left hand, the grocery bags all in my right hand, and my keys in my teeth (see earlier post.) I managed to close the trunk and started the walk to my house - leaning slightly to the right so the overstuffed bags don't slide down off the shoulder. I had to stop about halfway and get a better grip on the grocery bags, but made it.

But, of course, once I make it to my porch I look up a couple spaces from my house and there is an empty parking space. While I was finding a way to grab everything, someone had pulled out of a parking space. I hate it when this happens.

Life

I'm lucky in that I've never had a lot handed to me. In other words, life has frequently been difficult. I say I'm lucky, not because I'm a masochist or anything, but because it's lowered the bar tremendously in my expectations in life. And with the bar sufficiently low, I find it easier to be quite content in life.

I have tried to instill a bit of this in my children as I raised them. I had hoped that I was giving them a jump start at the lessons that took me so long to learn. I think that, once learned, these lessons will serve them well throughout their life.

My motto has now developed into: Life is good, but that doesn't mean it's easy.

Crying

I cried today. Not an all-out sobbing or anything, but one of those choked-up, tearing-eyed crying that makes you feel incredibly helpless.

Why is this blog worthy? Did anything happen to me you ask? No, it was just a sappy holiday movie (see earlier blog) about the intertwining lives of four incredibly lonely people one Christmas. I usually prefer the sappy romantic holiday stories, but this one looked promising - unlike the one I'd watched directly before it, or the one I watched after it.

The reason why the cry was blog worthy is that I never cry. I don't mean that I've never cried. I just mean that I never seem to cry any more. Oh, and I'm not talking about those catastrophic life moments that make us all cry - just your average, everyday periods of crying. So back to why this is blog worthy, its because I don't think I've done more than get a little misty in a few years. Maybe it's a side effect of the hysterectomy a few years back. Or maybe it's just that I've lived through everything and there aren't many things that take me to that emotional level anymore. Or maybe it means that my old heart has withered. Who knows.

But today I cried. It wasn't when the old man who was afraid to die alone died with someone beside him holding his hand. It wasn't when the man in the hospital felt released of a burden he'd been carrying. It wasn't when the young couple got back together and discovered they were having a baby. It wasn't when the lady with Alzheimer's reached out and held her daughter's hand. It was when the doctor fumblingly asked his patient's daughter (who hadn't had a date in about 10 years)to have dinner with him . . . and she said yes.

Oh crap, I am truly pathetic.

Sea Shells

This time of year, with the holiday approaching and the weather getting colder, I begin thinking of the ocean and the beach. I love the beach. It's the one place in the whole world where my mind can empty out and I'm completely in the moment.

Since I was a little girl, I somehow have multiple thoughts going on my head all the time. In order to go to sleep at night, I had to focus really hard on one thought just to crowd out all the others. As with most people, I've found that as I got older life often got a little too chaotic - especially as a single parent when the expectations on my time always outnumbered the hours in each day. I made it through those years but haven't learned how to turn the brain off. I don't seem to be able to multi-task in my activities -- but I can't stop the brain from multi-tasking. It's in overdrive all the time. Except on the beach.

When I'm on the beach I can stare out into the waves and let the roar fill my head. And I hear nothing else. When I walk on the beach, looking for shells, I let the waves lap my ankles and listen to the gulls. And I hear nothing else.

So at this time of year when the temperature begins to dip, the wind begins to whip outside, and the whole world seems to be in crazy overdrive mode, I think of the beach, the roar of the ocean, the lapping of the waves, and the sea shells. All is good.

Driving

After a few days gone, I drove home tonight. It was nice.

Driving - for me at least - is never a really enjoyable activity. Cars are never comfortable, other drivers annoy me, I don't like focusing on one thing for that long (my mind tends to wander), and I keep thinking I have other things I could be doing. I definitely don't get excited about the "handling" of a car on the road. I don't itch to get back in the driver's seat. I just don't get it. I use driving to get to where I need to be and so a car is merely a tool.

But, with that said, sometimes driving is tolerable. Sometimes, like tonight, the road isn't too crowded, the weather isn't too fierce, the radio station is coming in clear, and I have a trifecta that transports me into a zen-like place that makes driving almost pleasurable.

But before you get me a subscription to some car mag for Christmas, remember, I said "almost."

Thanksgiving

I have so much to be thankful for this year. I've gone from a family of 3 to a family of 7. Both my children are happy and healthy and have begun their lives.

What more could anyone ask for.

Sleep-overs

This week I'm away from home. As much as I enjoy solitude and my home, I have given it up for the holiday week and am having a weeklong sleepover with my daughter and her family.

I have a room of my own, a bathroom of my own, and all the privacy I want. Which is what makes it so enjoyable. If I feel as though I'm in the way, I just take myself off and let them have their evening alone. I believe this is an important lesson for any houseguest to learn . . . and learn quickly if they want to keep being welcomed as a houseguest.

Unfortunately, Winnie has not taken to a week away from home as well. I think she's a bit over-stimulated with all the people, noise, and activity. What is it they say about old dogs?

Coughing

Why, after all the lectures and publicity regarding the flu this year, are there still some people who don't cover their mouth when the cough? Especially when what they are coughing on is so obviously going to be touched by other people in the immediate future.

I had a student in my class tonight who was just getting over a "virus" which caused her to miss all her classes last week. So this week she sat right in front of me and spent the evening coughing all over her keyboard and monitor. Never once did I see the elbow come up to receive the cough like we're being admonished to do.

I tried not to be overly sensitive - but I'm spending the week with one of the grandbabies! Every time I stopped at her station to help her, I immediately ran back to my desk to sneak a squeeze from the anti-bacterial hidden in my purse. Maybe that was enough to keep me from getting sick, but only time will tell.

Grandchildren

Everyone said that being a grandmother was great, you got to spoil them and give them back when they cried or messed their diaper. I must not have the hang of being a grandmother yet, because today when my granddaughter cried, I didn't mind holding her. And when she messed her diaper, I didn't mind changing it.

She is at the beginning of the age where she notices you - really notices you. Tonight she was crying and fussy and she pulls back from me and looks at my face. I, of course make a funny noise for her and she smiles a crooked smile at me. She goes back to fussing a bit later, but the short time in between made the crying tolerable.

I'm sure there will be times when she will cry and I will give her back. But not today.

Christmas Songs

Driving home from work on Friday I heard the first harbinger of the upcoming season - a holiday song. It's not even Thanksgiving and we're already crooning about there being "no place like home for the holiday" and that someone is "dreaming of a white Christmas."

It's not that I hate Christmas - I just think it starts too early. Thanksgiving is the best holiday ever . . . well, at least for grownups. The second the costumes exit the mall they starting building Santa's village. I have no problem with the holiday season beginning early - in fact I'm quite the fan of the weeks of sappy holiday movies running back to back on at least three different channels -- I just think it shouldn't start until December. After all, we only need time to shop and we can probably accomplish that in about three weeks.

So, it's decided, three weeks is all the holiday season we need to shop and watch sappy movies. Except, when it comes to the holiday songs - I think we'd could get by if they started somewhere around the 23rd.

DVR

Have you heard of these DVR machines? Where has this been all my life? I've only had one for a couple weeks, but it's totally transformed my television viewing!

Where I used to spend a lazy evening channel surfing, now I have a ready-made list of shows that I know I'll enjoy watching but couldn't when they were on live because of bedtime or work or activities or whatever. It's all right there waiting for me to have a little free time.

Now before I get too proud of myself here I've got to admit that I'm still a couch potato - it's just that now I feel less guilty. I'm actually watching quality dramas instead of the lives of the rich and spoiled or a rerun of a rerun of a rerun.

And I save a lot of time skipping over the commercials. That's time I could have never gotten back.

Ice Cream

I suppose if I were to categorize how I feel about ice cream I would have to say it's love . . . or obcession . . . or addiction.

A few Christmas's ago, my daughter bought me the most wonderful - and the most horrible - gift I could ever receive. She bought me an ice cream maker.

I've made ice cream with cherries and slivers of dark chocolate. I've made ice cream with fresh peaches. I've made ice cream with Oreo's broken in it. I've made ice cream with M&M's. But this week I made the most wonderful ice cream to date. I made it with dark chocolate covered pretzels broken in it. The creamy, sweet and salty flavors blend into a Bermuda Triangle of decadence. Salt, sugar and fat in every bite!

Well, now that I've ranted about my latest ice cream concoction, I think I'll go have a little.

Advertising

Driving down the highway this morning I realized that so many of us use our vehicles as personal advertising.

If you read bumper stickers you will know who has elementary-school-aged children, who their favorite sports team is, where they went on their last vacation, and with what political party they identify. Vanity license plates take it to a new level, but sometimes they are just too cryptic -- can I buy a vowel? My least favorite is the back-window memorials. It really brings you down to see the eqivalent of headstone text staring back at you at a red light. But I do like the antenna toys. Some show no imagination whatsoever and stick with the commonplace tennis ball or flag, but my favorite here was Scooby Doo. I like what that tells you about the driver.

One that has become quite popular over the last several years is the fish . . . and of course it's comic parodies. I've never understood the fish. No, I understand the fish, I just don't understand WHY the fish. I'm sure there are other images that could more readily identify the driver as Christian. So why did they pick that? I've come to the conclusion that maybe it's the equivalent of the Masonic secret handshake - it was meant to be only recognizable to other Christians. But someone let the cat out of the bag.

Then there are the car stickers and paint jobs. I find big racing stripes to be hilarious. Come on, really, that little family wagon doesn't look any faster with racing stripes. And just because you have a "Racing Team" logo sticker on the side doesn't mean you're a racer or part of the team. Although I did see one this morning that took me aback. This driver didn't set his advertising sights too high or unbelievable - on the side of a very beat up hatchback was a square sticker that read "Pit Crew." Hmmm, maybe.

Chinese Fortune Sticks

A couple of years ago someone got me a set of Chinese Fortune Sticks. It's a canister of 78 wooden sticks that are supposed to be "the oldest known method of fortune telling in the world." I don't know how accurate they are, but I find them a little fun.

Each wooden stick has a "fortune" written on it. To obtain your fortune for the day, you shake the canister slightly on it's side until one stick protrudes further than the others. I know it's not the most scientific of methods, but when is fortune telling ever scientific.

Today my fortune is "Prosperity will come when you least expect and most desire." What kind of furtune is that? Is there ever a time when you are not desiring prosperity? And there has never been a time when I actually expected prosperity, so how do you pin down the time when I least expected it?

Again, I don't suppose I ever think they are truly going to tell my fortune, but they are a little fun. So . . . maybe just one more stick.

Stupid Multi-Tasking Phones

I have had my phone for a year now and I've finally given up the possibility that I could learn how to put music on it by myself. So I got online and "chatted" with someone from customer service.

But after an hour of "chatting" I was talking in all capital letters! What I came away with is - yes, I can download music onto my phone - but, no, I cannot download the music on my computer onto my phone. It seems the phone only recognizes certain file types and the type that gets stored in your computer when you have downloaded a CD isn't the right type. Of course.

So I said to the rep "You mean I cannot download any of the CDs I have to my phone? What music CAN I download?" This was when she referred me to the music purchasing place on their website, and when I sort of lost it. What kind of gimmick was this?

So I logged out and calmed down and did what any normal person would do and Googled for an answer, which I found in a free software application. It meant an extra step - loading the CDs on to my computer and running them through this new software, and THEN loading it onto my phone. I have one CD on it so far, it's going to be a slow process, but I've got time.

Meetings

I have a meeting tonight. I have at least one a week and sometimes I have a full week of various meetings.

I've thought about why, and I think that our face-to-face social contact changes as we age. When we're young, we go to bars and parties. Then we move into our childrearing years and it switches to child-related activities. Sports, Girl Scouts, Cub Scouts, music lessons, swim lessons, etc. Our children control our social interraction. But then we hit that next age where we "get involved" i.e. work without getting paid. I'm in that stage.

I enjoy it. I really do. But I think I've realized my lack of dating may be correlated to the groups and causes that I choose to connect with. If I'm going to substitute meetings for bars, I should at least find groups that have a few men in their number. Don't you think?

Visiting

Today I drove over an hour to visit my granddaughter. I hate the drive, but I'm thankful that it's not any further . . . yet.

When my dad died, I asked my mom to move in with me. She refused. Instead she moved further away. It was then, counting the food and bathroom breaks, about a five-hour drive to visit her. As a single mother who was taking college classes and working at least 2 jobs at any given time, this was almost impossible. I wished she would come to me . . . but she never did.

Now that I'm a grandmother I never want to ask my kids to bring the grandchildren to me - I go to them. Though I still have schedule conflicts, it's probably easier for me to travel than it is for their family to pack up and come to me. My mom probably never understood . . . but I do.

Winnie

I live with the tiniest dog I've ever known. She is 3.5 pounds and way less than a foot tall. She trembles most of the time and has a near-constant look of intimidation (her being intimidated, not her intimidating.)

Although she is probably the biggest source of worry in my life - after the hawk incident one winter - she is also one of the biggest sources of enjoyment in my life. She is my companion.

I probably spoil her a bit - when the weather first gets cold I bring out a microwavable heating pad to put under her bed to help her adjust. I probably spend more (per pound) on her treats than I do on mine. And if I could take her with me everywhere, I probably would.

Her only "bad" habit is that she's a bit noisy. Yes, I have on of those "yappy" little dogs that my daughter says signifies I'm officially an old lady. So, it's official. I'm old. But I could have told you that without a dog.

Smells of Rain

Do you have smells that immediately take you to some other place far into your past? I do . . . all the time.

Today is a rainy day. It's been rainy all week. And when I leave my car in the morning to walk across a still-wet parking lot I am assaulted with a smell that takes me back to my school days. The smell of earth worms.

My sisters and I had to walk to the bus stop. And on the morning after a rain, all over the blacktop we found thousands of wriggling little worms that had crawled topside to escape their waterlogged underground homes. The smell was good, in a way, because it reminded us to keep alert and tiptoe through the minefield of little pink bodies. Accidently stepping on one would bring about a loud "eeewwwwwww", a few giggles, a "sisterly" remark about the now-stinky shoe, and the scraping of shoes across a bare patch of blacktop in an attempt to remove every stinky remnant.

Now there are other smells that take me back also, but invariably they are not pleasant smells. I don't smell bread baking and think of home. I don't smell strong perfume and think of an older relative. It's the bad smells that imprint on the olfactory memory part of the brain. Wet tube socks still take me back to the high school locker room, duck droppings remind me of the walkway to the back porch, and the mixture of Lysol and cigarette smoke . . . well, we won't even go there.

Team Player

Ok, I'll admit it. I'm not really a team player.

I like to run things. I like to be the boss. I'm not mean or overbearing (okay, maybe a smidge overbearing), but I like to pick the direction and assign tasks. It's not that I think I'm better at it than anyone else, but I really hate the confusion and standing around that goes with no one taking charge to divide up activities and plot an agenda.

What I tend to do if I'm not the boss (like today) is to pick a part and just ignore everyone else's chaos and work at the part I assigned myself. It keeps me sane and keeps me from noticing that everyone is "discussing" the work more than "doing" the work.

Hmmm, I've noticed that this blog is probably just one more way that everyone else can see what an obcessive freak I am. Oh, well, deal with it.

Cookies

A long time ago (maybe in a galazy far, far away) I used to make cookies every November. I would make dozens of cookies of a half dozen or more different varieties. I would put them in freezer bags and they would last through the holiday season. This was when my children were young

Today, for the first time in at least a decade, I made cookies again. This time with my daughter-in-law. I remembered what I liked about baking. And what I didn't like (the number of things in this list has expanded.) I am now a bit older and so standing in the kitchen all day has my feet crying out for a pillow. And the hot flashes make working in a room with an oven for 5 hours nearly unbearable. But I enjoyed it.

I will not keep the cookies. On my counter I have one bag of misshapen and broken cookies, I sent three bags home with my son and daughter-in-law, and will deliver two bags to my daughter and son-in-law over the weekend. Some parts of the holiday baking experience never change - it's still for the kids.

Scrabble

I am addicted to playing Scrabble on my phone. I play against the computer - which one would think would prove challenging, but I win almost all the time. While the computer can come up with words (that I really don't think are words) that have a high point value, it doesn't play strategically. I think this is my strength. The computer seems to look for the best word to play - with regard to points. I do that, but in addition I look for ways to screw up my opponent's next play. Which, in and of itself, tells you something about me.

It's not just Scrabble - I also spend copious amounts of time with crossword puzzles and Sudoku puzzles. I could say it's because I'm getting older and I want to keep my brain from turning to mush, or that it's because I like getting lost in the challenge. But I think it's just I like killing time with something I'm adequate at -- maybe you can't overfeed an ego.

Reading

Last night I stayed up until almost midnight to finish a book. I haven't done that in a while. I had every intention of turning off the light and going to bed at about 10:00 pm, then 10:30, then 11:00 pm, and then I just stopped looking at the clock and decided that I'd drink extra tea tomorrow morning.

There is nothing like the feeling of being so engrossed in a book that you neglect other things because you just have to keep reading. It doesn't have to be a great book, just a great story. One that captures you and forces you along with the characters. This is probably why I'm such a fan of mysteries - they tend to capture you like few other genres do. There is rarely a "Oh, my goodness! What is going to happen next?" moment in a love story. But in a thriller or mystery, once the story gets going, it takes you on a cerebral amusement park ride through the plot.

This is why I like to write. I like to attempt to control readers the way a good story will. I don't know what other writers think, but I want the reader to cry when the characters are experiencing sadness, to laugh when the characters are experiencing something funny or outrageous, and to have their heart beat faster right along with a character during a chase or scarey experience. And because other writers can do this, I like to read.

Sundays

I have a real problem accomplishing anything on a Sunday. I did manage to get out of bed before 7:00 am this morning, but it's been all downhill since then. It began with pajamas - as in the ones I wore all day. I then moved on to delivered Chinese food and a few movies on Lifetime (a Sunday staple.) A phone conversation with each of my kids rounded out the afternoon and now I plan to spend the rest of the evening reading. You know, I might feel guilty except for the adoring looks I get from Winnie as she curls up on me while I accomplish all these lazy activities. Clearly Sunday is her favorite day. Ah, Sunday.

Keys

I stuck my car key in my nose today. Before you think I'm strange or anything. . . wait, those of you who know me well know that I am a bit strange at times. But about today, I'm not strange in that the key in the nose incident was an accident. Let me explain. I have a square leather key fob on my key ring and since I have a tendency to try to make only one trip to and from the car, often use the leather fob to hold my keys in my teeth. (I know, probably not the most sanitary option.) Today, as usual, I was carrying way too much to the car and reached up to put the leather fob in my teeth and, unfortunately, the car key was tangled in the keyring so that it was sticking straight up, and. . . .. Okay, I'll pause here for a bit to give you a chance to stop laughing. . . . Would it help if I told you I really scratched my nose?

Flock of Birds

Last night as I was stopped at a red light on my way to the highway, my attention was was caught by a small flock of birds flying above the intersection. They flew left, then swooped down, then flew right, then climbed, then repeated everything over again. And over again. And over again. I thought to myself "crazy birds! Just pick a tree and land already!"

Almost as soon as I'd said it my head went somewhere else - it looked fun. Like a sky roller coaster. They looked carefree. They'd join up with another small flock and change the routine a bit, then divide and go back to the same swooping and climbing.

When did I become so cynical? When did I start seeing activity that seemed to have no purpose as a waste of time . . . even bird time? Sometimes the end result is not an accomplishment, but the purpose of the activity is the activity itself. I think that now that I have grandchildren, I will have to take a refersher course in how to not be so end-result driven. Grammys need to just be.

A Proust-Like Question

If I were to be asked who I most admired in the world - living or not - I would have to say my daughter. Not to short my son in anyway, but he's taken a path that I would never have considered, and although his path is finally beginning to merge with the mainstream, I need a little time to study who he has become . . . aside from the luckiest person in the world to have made it this far.

My daughter on the other hand, is an amazing human being with just the right blend of stubborness and sensitivity, creativity and pragmatism, humor and dedication, and knowledge and emotion. I think her faults, and yes she has them, are probably more a product of my own frailities and timidity coming through in how I raised her. As much as I tried to push her into the world in a way that I wish someone had done for me, I also feel as though my anxiety and fears held her back just a bit. I often wonder at what she might have accomplished or experienced if I had been just a bit more encouraging in the areas that scared me - like her going too far from home, either to live or for recreation. And my biggest regret and worry is that I have passed on some of my anxiety to her and that occasionally it makes her doubt herself.

Ah, the wisdom we pick up along the way as we progress through life.

Comfort Foods

I think the problem I have with diets is diet foods. There is absolutely nothing in the "good for you" food group that could be remotely classified as Comfort Food. My life requires comforting and I love my comfort food. Yes, I know, that technically you can eat anything on a diet . . . just less of it or with healthier ingredients, but thats not truly a realistic option. When fresh bread comes out of the oven, who takes a tiny slice and slathers it with yogurt spread? When you've made a hearty stew, do you just take a cupful? Oh, and mac and cheese made with skim milk and lite cheese just wouldn't be the same.

So I think the problem with me and diets isn't that I don't know how to eat less, it's that I need too much "comforting." Plain and simple.

Autumn

I love the fall season! I love the crisp days and the cool nights. I love the sound of the wind rustling through the leaves in the backyard. I love being able to watch the squirrel in my back yard scampter through the bare tree branches. I love to watch the lone falling leaf twirling and gliding slowly back and forth outside my office window. I love the ground crunching beneath my feet. I love being able to wear jackets and sweaters again. I love the smell of the smoke from my neighbor's wood-burning stove greeting me every time I open the back door.

Summer is too hot. Winter is too icy. And while I also enjoy Spring - it's too windy and wet. Fall is perfect. Well, except for the mice who try to take up residence every year when their summer digs get too chilly. Ok, so Fall is very nearly perfect.

Reactions

I fell last night. I had taken the trash out and tripped as I came back into the house and fell hard on my knees and hands. One of those trips that happens when you haven't lifted your foot high enough and trip on your slipper . . . or is that just me? In my younger days, I would have immediately jumped up and looked around to see if the neighbors had seen anything. But I'm older now. For starters, I did not get up very quickly (or even slightly quick) and the only thing I checked for is whether or not I peed myself.

Daylight Savings Time

I'm not sure why but when we move the clock it's always seen as an excuse to sleep late. In the fall - we turn the clock back an hour, so we're already getting an extra hour of sleep. But I still feel the need to sleep in.

Happy Halloween

She hated posing for this - note the "pained" look on her face.