This morning, the day after Christmas, I opened the newspaper to see the blood red letters spell “Christmas Day Killings” and large black bold print shouting, “Apparent murder-suicide leaves 7 dead in Grapevine” making my heart shutter for a minute or two. No, it wasn’t my family or friends. No, I don’t live in Grapevine but the city that has a main street like the one I grew up had is close to me. Too close for comfort. I’ve always known on an intelligential level that the Christmas season can bring out the best in us and it can bring out the worst in some of us. I’m feeling it now after this morning.
This Christmas I experienced the best. Step-children and grandchildren who made time for me and seemed thrilled that they were able to finally give me a gift that I didn’t have and really wanted– a Color Nook. The best part though was that they still know me so well even though our lives have become disconnected in some ways. I was able to spend the day before Christmas with girlfriends, enjoying a movie, a meal, and laughs together. Christmas Eve was a gift from two very special friends who shared their hearts and their Christmas spirit with me and another friend. Christmas lights at the Gaylord, dinner, wine, great conversation and so much laughter and joy gave me one of the best times I’ve had in years. You can’t wrap a bow around that but I wish you could. Thank you so much, David & Lesly!
Spending Christmas Day with the special man in my life, my son, was another gift you can’t wrap. Christmas cards, phone calls from a dear friend in Mississippi, a texted Merry Christmas from my brother whom I haven’t seen since I was 20, Facebook Merry Christmas greetings from old school friends and family, an e-mail from my best high school guy friend: in person or snail mail or electronically, they all mean so much to me.
I had a most wonderful Christmas. One family and friends in Grapevine didn’t. I can’t help from wondering why such a horrible thing could happen. My heart and prayers goes out to their loved ones. And I also realize just how blessed I am to have had such a wonderful Christmas. I hope that yours was too and we carry all the joy and love we were fortunate enough to experience this Christmas into our New Year!
Monday, December 26, 2011
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Shopping
Today’s Sunday newspaper is full of ads, articles on e-readers, and Black Friday. I really want an e-reader, and a new camera, and the new dance Wii game. I really want new clothes as the ones I have don’t fit me like I’d like them to. I tell my friends that I’ve grown up but my clothes haven’t. They are still immature. I want new pillows to brighten up my living room. I want, want, want… And yes, I just noticed that I didn’t list any “I need”.
I remember thinking years ago when I was what I considered “young” that once folks reached retirement age, they didn’t need much money. I never remember seeing my grandmother go shopping. Not for fun, that’s for sure. She had everything she needed and was content. My mother was entirely different. She had everything she needed too. A house that was paid for, furniture for every room, a car, a TV, shelves of books and a closet full of clothes. But she loved to go shopping. It was a grand adventure for us. At least once a month and sometimes more, we spend a Saturday going to the “city” to shop. Sometimes we went to Carroll, a mere 30 minute drive. Or to Ft. Dodge, a 45-minute drive. We often went to Sioux City, Iowa, which was an hour and a half drive and occasionally, for a special treat, we’d go to Omaha, a three-hour drive.
Shopping in the cities were always adventures for us. We’d shop a bit,have a leisurely lunch in the dining room in a large department store or a hotel, then shop a while more before heading back home. It didn’t dawn on me until I started thinking about writing this blog that I never remember my mother buying anything for herself. She always bought for me, saying that’s what gave her the most pleasure and that she didn’t need anything else.
So why do I still have the “I wants”? Because I’m not content with myself or my life? Maybe at one time, but not at this stage of my life. So what has changed? I honestly hate shopping now. It’s no longer a pleasurable adventure. The malls are too crowded, the parking lots too crowded, the people too rude and too loud. And God knows, there isn’t anything I need or want bad enough to go shopping on Black Friday—even if they were giving it away. Maybe my “I wants” aren’t really clothes, pillows, e-reader, but the going back to the time when shopping was an opportunity to spend quality time with a loved one and creating memories more than buying stuff. I guess that maybe that means that my “wants” are really “needs” after all. They are just aren’t the tangible ones. Time for a road trip to Canton or Salado I think. Who wants to go with me?
I remember thinking years ago when I was what I considered “young” that once folks reached retirement age, they didn’t need much money. I never remember seeing my grandmother go shopping. Not for fun, that’s for sure. She had everything she needed and was content. My mother was entirely different. She had everything she needed too. A house that was paid for, furniture for every room, a car, a TV, shelves of books and a closet full of clothes. But she loved to go shopping. It was a grand adventure for us. At least once a month and sometimes more, we spend a Saturday going to the “city” to shop. Sometimes we went to Carroll, a mere 30 minute drive. Or to Ft. Dodge, a 45-minute drive. We often went to Sioux City, Iowa, which was an hour and a half drive and occasionally, for a special treat, we’d go to Omaha, a three-hour drive.
Shopping in the cities were always adventures for us. We’d shop a bit,have a leisurely lunch in the dining room in a large department store or a hotel, then shop a while more before heading back home. It didn’t dawn on me until I started thinking about writing this blog that I never remember my mother buying anything for herself. She always bought for me, saying that’s what gave her the most pleasure and that she didn’t need anything else.
So why do I still have the “I wants”? Because I’m not content with myself or my life? Maybe at one time, but not at this stage of my life. So what has changed? I honestly hate shopping now. It’s no longer a pleasurable adventure. The malls are too crowded, the parking lots too crowded, the people too rude and too loud. And God knows, there isn’t anything I need or want bad enough to go shopping on Black Friday—even if they were giving it away. Maybe my “I wants” aren’t really clothes, pillows, e-reader, but the going back to the time when shopping was an opportunity to spend quality time with a loved one and creating memories more than buying stuff. I guess that maybe that means that my “wants” are really “needs” after all. They are just aren’t the tangible ones. Time for a road trip to Canton or Salado I think. Who wants to go with me?
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Sunday, October 9, 2011
Time Thief??
A dear friend asked me why I didn’t post a blog last Sunday and I answered, “I didn’t have time.” That comment has haunted me ever since I wrote her that. Because it was true and it shouldn’t be. So….I want know who did it. Who stole time away from me? And don’t blame age. Age has nothing to do with it. In fact, now that I’m older, I should have more spare time.
After all, it doesn’t take me that long to do my hair in the mornings since I have so little of it now. It doesn’t take much time to put on my makeup since I’ve stopped wearing foundation after reading it shows the wrinkles more. And except for special occasions, of which there aren’t many, I don’t bother with eye liner either. I’ve noticed that my eye-hand coordination tends to be a little shaky lately and my eyeliner ends up looking like last week's stock market line graphs, bullish to my eyebrow and then bearish to my cheek bone.
It doesn’t take as long to clean house it seems or maybe it’s just that I don’t care as much as I used to. Even if I’m wearing my glasses, I tend not to see the dust bunnies or wads of dog hair until they attack bomber-style or I start having sneezing fits.
I still remember the good old days when I commuted to work, on a good day, one hour one-way, on a bad day, two to three hours one-way. I cooked and kept house for one husband, two teenage boys, two dogs and one cat while attending college night classes, the guys’ softball games, etc.
So what happened to all of my time? I still work, but my commute is 15 minutes one way. I only have myself and two little dogs to take care of, clean up after and feed. I exercise only two hours a week and try to limit myself to only one hour or so of TV time per night. So I ask ya, again? Where does all my time go for heaven’s sake? I still have the same 24 hours a day that I did years ago.
Hum….. Wonder if it could be all the time that I spend on the computer reading everyone’s blogs or the news or checking my e-mails or Facebook or playing games? Naw, it couldn’t take up that much of my time and energy, could it? After all, technology is supposed to make our life simpler, easier, right?
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Blogging Well Refill
It’s been a dry spell for blogging lately. I’d told myself I was quitting when I hit the magical 52 weeks (equaling one full year of blogs) but I pooped out at 51. It just wasn’t worth it, I thought. Outside of my loyal and dear soul sister, I doubted if anyone even missed them so why bother. Plus I had better things to do with my time. Wrong on both cases.
First, I’ve realized that I’ve been blogging for myself all this time. It’s a way to keep my mind and fingers moving in a more creative way than playing Pogo Scrabble and keeps my eyes on the lookout for topics to write about. It’s a way to keep true to myself about where I really am in this life, this year, this week, and today. Without blogging, I’m finding that I’m in danger of becoming the proverbial ostrich with my long skinny neck and head in the sand.
Secondly, like everyone else, I do have lots of things to do with my time. Clean house, mend clothes, do laundry, weed, read, go for walks with the pups, shop, redecorate, paint, write, etc. And since I still work full time, I don’t have enough time to do those things and blog too. Ha!
I took my first full week of vacation in over ten years this past week. Guess what? I started off with a bang but by Wednesday I’d started pooping out. By Friday I was nearly comatose, prone on the couch watching TV in between naps. Now the pups loved it, I admit. But like most of us baby boomers, I was raised by parents who were raised with the Puritan ethics that only by hard work is your being justified. So instead of enjoying relaxing on the couch and the warmth of my pups, I mentally beat myself up for not getting up and doing something worthwhile which then sent me spiraling into a depression which then….
My vacation officially over, I will start work tomorrow well-rested and with a clean garage, a repaired wall where a previous pup had gnawed the sheetrock to the metal, clean and polished bottom kitchen cabinets, some laundry done, quality time spent with my son on a day trip to McKinney, a fun day out shopping with a girlfriend, and two very content and well-loved pups. Plus I’m back to blogging for another year. Maybe it was a productive vacation week after all!
First, I’ve realized that I’ve been blogging for myself all this time. It’s a way to keep my mind and fingers moving in a more creative way than playing Pogo Scrabble and keeps my eyes on the lookout for topics to write about. It’s a way to keep true to myself about where I really am in this life, this year, this week, and today. Without blogging, I’m finding that I’m in danger of becoming the proverbial ostrich with my long skinny neck and head in the sand.
Secondly, like everyone else, I do have lots of things to do with my time. Clean house, mend clothes, do laundry, weed, read, go for walks with the pups, shop, redecorate, paint, write, etc. And since I still work full time, I don’t have enough time to do those things and blog too. Ha!
I took my first full week of vacation in over ten years this past week. Guess what? I started off with a bang but by Wednesday I’d started pooping out. By Friday I was nearly comatose, prone on the couch watching TV in between naps. Now the pups loved it, I admit. But like most of us baby boomers, I was raised by parents who were raised with the Puritan ethics that only by hard work is your being justified. So instead of enjoying relaxing on the couch and the warmth of my pups, I mentally beat myself up for not getting up and doing something worthwhile which then sent me spiraling into a depression which then….
My vacation officially over, I will start work tomorrow well-rested and with a clean garage, a repaired wall where a previous pup had gnawed the sheetrock to the metal, clean and polished bottom kitchen cabinets, some laundry done, quality time spent with my son on a day trip to McKinney, a fun day out shopping with a girlfriend, and two very content and well-loved pups. Plus I’m back to blogging for another year. Maybe it was a productive vacation week after all!
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Two-Stepping Back the Time
I went country-western dancing again last Sunday evening with a group of young savvy senior singles. Sundays are when the older set goes dancing, you know. It’s fun watching the old folks get out on the dance floor especially since they haven’t gotten the message that they’re old yet. Women still dress to please men at the dance club. One woman caught my eye as she colorfully two-stepped across the dance floor in her tight sequined pants and shimmering turquoise top. She looked good and she knew it. Another gal, an escapee from the Red Hat Society, stood out about the sea of heads with her red wide-brimmed cowboy hat.
It’s easy to identify the couples who have spent a lifetime together. They move as one on the dance floor. It was hard not to secretly sigh as I watched them, wishing I’d been able to have a lifetime of dancing with my loved one. I also wondered why I was there, especially since I’m not that good a dancer. Still, I accepted every request to dance, even being silly enough to get out there and do the twist. (My hip wasn’t too happy with me about that one the next few days.) But when I started getting out of breath, had to use my inhaler, and realized I couldn’t follow most of the gentlemen I was dancing with, I told myself that this is something I shouldn’t be doing again.
But two images from that night remain in my mind taunting this decision: An old man, back hunched and feet shuffling to a nearby table, asked a young woman to dance. She graciously accepted. His lined face broke into a wide smile and while his back remained rounded; his feet became alive when they hit the dance floor. A dance turned into an instant shot of youthfulness with little side effects. I saw another scene that made my heart warm, a woman obviously in her 80’s beaming as a young cowboy gently two-stepped her across the dance floor. When the dance was over, she leaned against him for support on their way back to her table, her face flushed with joy and youth. She now had a story to tell and something to dream about again.
Maybe if I take some dance lessons….
It’s easy to identify the couples who have spent a lifetime together. They move as one on the dance floor. It was hard not to secretly sigh as I watched them, wishing I’d been able to have a lifetime of dancing with my loved one. I also wondered why I was there, especially since I’m not that good a dancer. Still, I accepted every request to dance, even being silly enough to get out there and do the twist. (My hip wasn’t too happy with me about that one the next few days.) But when I started getting out of breath, had to use my inhaler, and realized I couldn’t follow most of the gentlemen I was dancing with, I told myself that this is something I shouldn’t be doing again.
But two images from that night remain in my mind taunting this decision: An old man, back hunched and feet shuffling to a nearby table, asked a young woman to dance. She graciously accepted. His lined face broke into a wide smile and while his back remained rounded; his feet became alive when they hit the dance floor. A dance turned into an instant shot of youthfulness with little side effects. I saw another scene that made my heart warm, a woman obviously in her 80’s beaming as a young cowboy gently two-stepped her across the dance floor. When the dance was over, she leaned against him for support on their way back to her table, her face flushed with joy and youth. She now had a story to tell and something to dream about again.
Maybe if I take some dance lessons….
Sunday, August 7, 2011
A Cool 65
I missed blogging last Sunday but I had a good excuse. No A/C in a record-breaking Texas heat wave tends to divert all creative thinking into strict survival mode. The week before that I suffered a computer virus. OMG! With the famine in Southern Somalia, the heat wave, and the computer virus, doomsday cannot be far behind, can it? Of course not but I will admit to having a full-fledge meltdown of “what if?” for a minute or two before I called the air conditioning repair man for the third time.
I also turned 65 since my last blog – a number I mentally was terrified of. Surprise of surprises—I didn’t vaporize into my grandmother as I feared. In fact, just the opposite. Unplanned and unexpectedly, I’m finding 65 to be freeing. All of a sudden, “what will they think?” has been replaced with “who cares what they think?”. So who cares if the adorable sleeveless top I fell in love with shows my old lady arms? It makes me feel pretty and that’s what counts. So what if I went boot-scooting last Sunday evening with friends and danced until I was breathless (which was about 2/3 through the first dance)? I had a blast and I didn’t have a heart attack. Who cares that I can’t touch my toes in my exercise class? I’m content to keep on showing up at class and so is the instructor.
Was I trying to find my youth by going to a Harley Davidson Garage Party to support a friend’s daughter’s marketing event? No way. But you know what? It was interesting, entertaining, and I saw a Harley Davidson jacket I really, really want. I attended a stimulating panel discussion on To Kill a Mockingbird this week so I think I have a healthy balance. Now if I can start eating healthy and keep on exercising and somehow stay cool in this Texas heat wave, I will keep looking for more opportunities to enjoy life at 65. It won't be fast lane but it's going to be enough for me to become a cool 65!
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