Dreamy Wednesday

This day began with a dream that showed just how anxious I am about what we might run into on our trip to Greece next week. Here's the dream:

I'm in New Jersey. I have just been "dropped off" there somehow, after missing a connection to a flight. This New Jersey place is strange. It's very little, a small town, like it's in the boonies of NJ, with lots of Mexicans around. There is a grocery store/bar/drugstore establishment that I go into looking for ways to get on another flight. A woman who has been manning the drugstore part of this place says, "Come on over here and I'll take care of you", as she leaves one counter and goes to another, which is apparently the place she can take care of me. She says, "Yeah, I can put you on another flight, no problem." I ask her when it will be leaving and she says offhandedly, "A couple of days." I am appalled! Horrified! I have to stay in this strange, little NJ town for a "couple of days"?! I walk out of the establishment in shock and run into three other women who are in my same boat. These woman are tall and veeerrry wide, but they are women who understand my predicement and they're nice, so we decide to go together to get something to eat and talk over the problem. We get a taxi--yes, there is a taxi in this odd little town--and all four of us get in the back seat. I am squished by them to the point that my cheeks (on my face) are so pushed together that my mouth is in a pucker! But we get to a restaurant which is, predictably, Mexican. I usually don't have anything against Mexican food, in fact we eat quite a lot of it, but this restaurant looked like a place that hadn't seen a food inspection in a looooong time. So, in addition, to having to spend "a couple of days" in this town, I am worried that I might have to spend a couple of days in this town with loose bowels. While I am eating the gray, porky, fatty, suspect food I look out the window at the street. It is very colorful, lots of signs, people dressed in vibrant reds, yellows, greens, blues, there seems to be a parade of some kind--and then a bus goes by hung with skulls--skulls dangling on every square inch--a Day of the Dead spectacle. All I can think of in my panic is that I have to call my husband--he can get me out of here--he will call who ever it takes to get me a flight out of this place, this dangerous, scary place. That's when I woke up. I was still in New Jersey, but at least my dream had allowed me a plan of action. Where is Tony Soprano when you need him?

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A couple of hours after the dream I was in the dentist chair looking through an "O" magazine and waiting for Dr. Redd to replace a worn out filling. He had already told me that he didn't have to give me novocaine because he could do it in a jiffy, pain free. All the way to the dentist's office I had been thinking I was going to get one of those needles in the roof of my mouth and compared to the awfullness of that, the dream I woke up with would seem like a lovely fairytale. He did it, though. He ground a little, he filled a little, he put the blue light on it and polished it and I had a new filling, with no pain and no needle in the roof of my mouth. I celebrated by getting an Americano coffee at the Safeway Starbucks and by buying lettuce, tomatoes and peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie dough!

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With Americano in hand I visited my Mom, as I always do on Wednesdays. I took with me the recent pictures I had Flickr print for me of my two beautiful granddaughters, Alison and Zuzu. I knew Mom would appreciate them and she did. She exclaimed over Zuzu's sweet smile and Alison's wonderful eyes and what a great parent her "sweet little grandson, Christopher" had become. Mom always has the TV on, usually on the classic movie station and today was Charlie Chaplin day. The movie was one from the 50s where Charlie is white-haired and wearing a tuxedo most of the time. A pretty woman came into the scene with a swoopy 50s hat and gorgeous eyes. I didn't recognize her and I'm usually pretty good at recognizing movie people--Mom said, "I think she's Dawn Adams or something like that." I'd never heard of Dawn Adams so I couldn't dispute or corroborate, but later when the credits came up, there was her name, Dawn Adams! At 86 my Mom still impresses with her memory for movie star trivia! I told Mom about my New Jersey travel dream and she responded that she was a little bit glad she wasn't going to Greece with us because she'd been watching the news and being in an airport right now didn't look like much fun to her.

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It's time to go read "John Adams" now (ancestor of Dawn?) and finish my Americano--I can nurse one all day. In a half hour Michael will come home and I'll tell him my dream and accentuate the part about how I knew he would solve all my problems for me. He'll like that.

Brain Teaser

I have a brain again! To explain: have you ever had a cold that compromised the activity of your brain? I have had that cold this past week. What happens in there, I wonder? Is it the gi-hugic quantities of mucous that are being created by the workings of the cold germ? Is the mucous accumulating in my sinus cavities and pressing on the lobes of my brain? Is my brain being strangled by the ropes of green, gunky mucous? Whatever the physical causes, the fact is I felt brain-damaged, in the beginning stages of Alzheimer’s disease, unable to make a coherent thought, remember a word, form a plan. All gone! If this is a little hint of what it’s like to have dementia, I don’t want to live that long!

Winter Blahs

Or Winter Blues. Or Winter Boos. Or even better, Winter Booze! Maybe that would help with this uncharacteristic Pacific Northwest Winter we are experiencing. I am so tired of the cold and the wet. Whether you subscribe to Global Warming or Climate Change or neither, anyone who lives around here will agree that this winter of 2007-08 has been colder and snowier and wetter than we are used to. I thank my lucky stars every time it snows, that I retired in the Fall and I don’t have to decide whether I am going to risk my limbs by driving to work in the stuff. At least there’s that.

I was in Wisconsin in December and in Rhode Island this month and I’m here to tell you, those who say a dry cold is better than a wet cold are absolutely right. Coming back here after being in bitter cold in Wisconsin and semi-cold in Rhode Island made my bones ache! There is nothing to compare with a cold, WET day. The damp crawls right up inside you and camps there. You can’t get warm no matter how many layers you put on.

This morning I woke up to snow falling again, on March 28 of all things! I know that Wisconsin and the entire Midwest, probably, has snow on the ground that won’t likely go away until the end of April, but that’s not supposed to happen here. We are supposed to have a nice regular 3-month season. Three months of Spring, three months of Fall and three months of Winter. I’m leaving out Summer because that’s a crap shoot. Sometimes it lasts for a couple of weeks, sometimes a couple of months. I could do with a nicer Summer, but having a short summer and a looonnnng winter is too much!

I look at the temperatures across the U.S. every day in the newspaper and long to be with my daughter in San Diego, where it is 67 today, or with my daughter in Norfolk where it is a balmy 75. What warm joy that would be! Even London weather, notorious for its gloominess, has been better than ours. Today it’s 55 degrees, 10 degrees warmer, at least, than in Kitsap County, and 18 degrees warmer than in my yard, where it has now risen to a chilly and WET 35 degrees.

Okay, I’m going to pray to Jeff and Andy and Steve, our main PNW TV weathermen, to bring us warmer temperatures. I am going to do a sun dance. I am going to put sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt on my snowman. I am going to build an altar to the sun and burn said snowman. I am going to promise to worship the sun exclusively if only, if only it will return. But first I’m going to go put on another layer, put some anti-fungal between my toes, take an allergy pill against the mold and mildew, replenish the Kleenex and crank up the teapot.

15 Things I've Learned Since Retirement

I have had 6 months now of freedom from 9 to 5 work and I have learned a few things:

1. If you don’t wear lipstick every day your lips get chapped.

2. You can cook much better dinners when you have more than a half hour to create them.

3. Just because you aren’t in the land of donuts, chocolate, pastries and cakes (which is what my workplace was) doesn’t mean you are going to lose weight. Probably it’s because of those “better dinners” and lunches out!

4. My plan of walking to get the newspaper (1/4 mile) before having coffee and breakfast quickly changed to having the coffee and breakfast first.

5. FreeCell is really fun and challenging!

6. I like to wash the dishes every morning. It cleans my fingernails and warms up my hands!

7. I eat lunch out more often than I used to.

8. It’s really fun to stay in bed some mornings and watch an episode of Lost or Boston Legal that I’ve recorded. It feels decadent!

9. A not-yet-retired husband still wants to grocery shop and go to Costco on Saturdays.

10. The “exercise everyday” resolution quickly went the way of the newspaper before breakfast one.
11. My house is tidier and cleaner now though not nearly as spotless as I had planned.

12. It’s cheaper to be retired. I am not tempted to donate to coworkers’ children’s fund raisers or to buy gifts for every birthday and occasion. And I drink my own coffee rather than buying it.

13. I was afraid I wouldn’t have anything to talk about with my husband at the end of the day, but I have plenty. For one thing, I can now read the entire paper before he gets home and there’s plenty of fodder there.

14. It took me 3 months to come up with a new routine that helped me remember to brush my teeth!

15. I heard a retiree say that you don’t know how good the weather is in the Pacific NW until you’re retired. He was absolutely right. When you are sitting behind a desk the only weather you are aware of is what happens on the weekends. For instance, the sun is shining right now, but if I was in an office I would hardly notice it except for longing to be out in it.

Hope

Yeah, it's time for a new post. That last post just kind of said it all for a long time. But the sun is out today, Obama is winning more primaries and it feels like hope is in the air. I have been spending more time out in my garden--it takes about 1 1/2 hours before it gets too cold, but in that time I'm cleaning up some stuff and noticing the little shoots coming up. Today the crocuses actually bloomed. If a crocus isn't hope, what is?

Bookworm's blog post was about fun. That's hope.

My oldest daughter posted on her blog two days in a row! That's hope that there will be more.

There's a picture of my son and his new baby daughter sleeping together. The hope there is that Zuzu will be a snuggler, which was his hope, disappointed, with his first daughter.

It's Over

It’s over now. Fossil Guy has passed away, a beautiful memorial service took place yesterday, Bookworm’s stepchildren will be going back to their own homes today. Today we will watch the Superbowl. I washed clothes this morning. Tomorrow I will vacuum the floor. I expect Bookworm will start seeing clients again. Life is going on. We are picking up where we left off a year ago. A year ago it seemed as if life would never be the same again, and though it isn’t the “same”, because FG isn’t in it anymore, we will all create a new “same”, a life without him. We are still alive and we will go on living.

Yesterday, on the way to Bookworm’s house after the service, my Mom, sitting in the back seat with Bookworm, said, “Now the hard part begins”. But I don’t think that’s true. I don’t think she realizes just how hard this past year has been. From the moment FG was diagnosed there was the certainty of his death looming and all who loved him put their lives on hold, their full happiness on hold. In my house, any time my mate would say, “It’s going to be a great year!” I’d have to remind him that FG was going to die this year, so “great” was not a word I could use. I know BW found much joy in her last year with FG, but there was still the dark specter of death in his cough, in his chemo, in his growing weakness. It couldn’t be ignored.

I am thankful that after I retired at the end of August I was able to visit weekly and then more often as the days grew short. I don’t want to imagine how I would have felt if I’d been working and wouldn’t have had the energy and will to visit as often. I am also thankful that the last days were not as bad as predicted by the nurses. It could be that somehow Fossil Guy willed himself to be clear until the end and to die before he was vulnerable to the point of total helplessness. He relied on us, but he was in control. He could still hold his water cup, he could still sip from it. With help, he could reach the bathroom or a chair. There was no humiliation. That is probably what I feared the most, having experienced it with my Dad.

I don’t think it will be “the hard part” for Bookworm because she is so strong, resilient as the silly putty she often kneads in her hands. Any woman who can live through what her son has given her to endure can live after this. She is from hardy stock, feisty, buoyant people. And she has scores of friends who love her. That counts. I’m not saying it’s going to be a cakewalk. FG was so special that he will never be replaced, but he “saved” her life, as she says, and she doesn’t need saving anymore.

So life goes on. It’s one of the most used cliché’s there is, but cliché’s are born and flourish because they are true. Life will go on and we’d best make the most of it. Who can ever know when the death sentence will be written for us?

Preparing

I feel it's time for me to ready myself for the loss of my dear friend, Jim, or Fossil Guy, as he is known to blogger friends. He has stopped eating and maybe that's his way of saying, "I am done". Who knows what goes on in the minds of people who know their time is short--he even called himself a short-timer recently and the other day when I was visiting he said, "I don't have to do anything anymore". I have known for a year that Jim would die, but I have kept the deep feelings of loss at bay, trying to keep the stiff upper lip, the good attitude, the calm exterior. But it is too obvious now--he is much thinner, his thought processes are slower, his complexion is gray, his voice is thinned and higher.

The only thing I can think to do is to keep visiting, to be there for Bookworm, to remember all the times through all the years we've been together--to help sustain me. Yesterday I was so sad and then angry that it had to be Jim. Why couldn't my useless brother be the one? I was shocked at the thought, but in fact, Jim has been closer to me and more important to me than my own brother. For 40 years he has always been out there, 10 years ahead of me exactly. Our birthdays are 2 days apart. When I have been anxious about a point in my life he has always had wise words for me, from 10 years more experience. Who will be able to do that for me when he is gone? Who will be able to diffuse a worry with a few words of rye wit? Who will be able to put the crazy political/social landscape into perspective like Jim can? Who do I have the history with?There is nobody like him and there never will be. I have to prepare to lose the solidity, the calmness, the intelligence of him. I know I will never be ready.

Happy New Year

Tomorrow is New Year’s Eve—and soon it will be 2008, a brand new year to start, with brand new ideas of how it should be and surprises to mess up those ideas. It has become my own tradition to put my journal together on New Year’s Eve. Since the arthritis in my hands made it so that it was painful to write in long hand, I have been using a 3-ring notebook for my journal. There are 11 notebooks—this year’s will be the 12th.

During the year I type entries on the computer, or if I’m visiting someone I bite the bullet and write them out with a pen on whatever paper I can get my hands on. I save emails that seem important, from people that are important to me—my friend, Bookworm, my kids, certain other friends. I put all of these records in a basket in our guest room, along with mementos picked up here and there, on travels or from restaurants of note, or programs from concerts or plays, birthday cards, Mother’s Day cards, etc. On New Year’s Eve day I bring them all out and put them all together in a new notebook—the entire year laid out in front of me. It never fails to surprise me—the things that have happened and how many of them I’ve forgotten—what made me anxious 9 months ago and is just stuff under the thing now.

Since the beginning I have chosen notebooks that have those clear plastic inserts on the cover and the spine, so I can insert cards or pictures in a collage that symbolizes the most important events of the year. The year I accompanied my friend, Sid, to New York, the cover was all about what I saw and ate there. This year there will probably be a lot of new granddaughter and Alaska and Mexican cruise stuff. And a picture from my retirement party!

I’m looking forward to looking backward over the year. It’s been a busy year with great news and awful news and travels and new family members and life changes—a rich year. I wish any of you who read this blog a

Happy New Year

I hope 2008 is a rich year for you.

Ali's Baby Zuzu

This is my Granddaughter practicing a sponge bath on her own "Baby Zuzu" doll, right after she watched her Mama do the same with her new baby sister.

Mama and New Baby, Zuzu

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Originally uploaded by Porkbone

I got my Christmas wish. I arrived in Wisconsin to "be there" just in case the baby, that was due December 22, should arrive early. The baby decided to come very early! She was born December 4 at 3:35 in the afternoon (approximately). I had barely 48 hours of "training" to take over the job of caring for Alison, who is now 30 months old. We call it a Christmas Miracle, because it went so well. We can also posit that Ali is a resilient youngster, smart enough to know that Grandma was there for an important reason and that it would be best to go along with the program.

We played inside and outside in the snow. I read her stories and fed her lunch and played the "pretty rock soup" game many, many times. We learned how to sing Frosty the Snowman and in this process I learned to understand Ali's words well enough so that I only had to fake it a few times--"sure, honey, whatever you say".

Ali was non-plussed by the baby, even after she had been home for 12 days, but she was beginning to be interested in observing her when she had her diaper changed and when she had a sponge bath. She quickly named her doll Baby Zuzu and began to give her sponge baths, too. As I watched her attempting to adjust to this huge change in her life, I felt like I ought to apologize to my first daughter for not being more sensitive to her feelings when her little sister was born. It was clear that Ali knew her world was now different. And maybe not different in a better way!

But I got my Christmas Wish. I was there to help and to hold my newest grandchild when she was brand new and barely awake to the world yet. I was there to see my granddaughter's reaction and, in some small way, to help her through the first days. We got to know each other much better this trip. Maybe when I visit her next she will remember the Grandma that played pretty rocks with her and made "reedy, reedy big houses" with her wooden blocks, and sang Frost the Snow Man with her. I can only hope!

Factory Closed

As of yesterday, the cooking/baking factory is CLOSED! I am done, at least for 2 weeks. The packages of baked goods have left the building and are on their way, through the mail routes to their destinations, Norfolk and San Diego. I also sent a big rescue vehicle toy to my Grandson, Alex, but the dang thing was a challenge to wrap--read that: ###$^%&&** hard. It would not fit into any of the boxes we had saved in the garage for sending things in and because of it's shape it couldn't just be wrapped in brown paper. I had to cut and tape and tape and cut other pieces of cardboard to wrap around it and then cut up paper bags to wrap the wrap. It was very odd-shaped by the time I was done and nearly waterproof because of all the tape.

Now it's just get the suitcase packed and wrap a few presents before I go on December 1, to Wisconsin. I put the Christmas tree up and got lights on it yesterday and a few ornaments. When I got home from my Mom's house yesterday, Michael had placed presents under it already. He is one of THOSE. He wraps things as he gets them. It seems so logical and organized, so why can't I do that? I always have to go into a frenzy of wrapping in order to get it done. I wrapped all of Michael's presents today, except for the one that isn't here yet. Then I got ready to walk out to get the paper and just as I was leaving the phone rang. At this time in my life I don't let the phone ring. It could be a crisis at my Mom's house or it could be Irene calling to say she is on her way to the hospital to have that new little granddaughter. As it turned out, it was Irene, reporting on her earlier report of two days ago, that she is dialated to 2 centimeters and is in lots of discomfort but that she is still hanging on. She had phone numbers to give me, lots of "just in case" information and new tales of Alison's antics. She has also made a list of Ali's idiosyncracies and her routines, just in case. She is doing the best job she possibly can to avert any "second baby" traumas.

By the time that phone call was over Michael had come hope with the paper, soI took off my coat and ate some lunch. Just as I was ready to go lay out all the stuff that had to go in my suitcase, I got another call. This time it was a Mom Crisis. "Chris! I'm at the Mall and I can't find my car. I have been everywhere and I just don't see itand I'm exhausted. Can you come and help?" So, off I went to the Mall and rescued Mom, whose car was on the other side of the Mall from where she'd been looking. After a few questions it was pretty easy to narrow it down.

So even though I am not baking, I am still cooking on all four burners. Now, if the snow will just hold off until I get to the airport on Saturday I will be a happy camper and on my way to a new, exciting adventure.

Cooking Factory

It's been a cooking factory around here this past week and today I'm taking a day off. Last week I baked three kinds of cookies and then made ALL of the Thanksgiving Dinner, except for a jar of baby dills! I'm tired of that stove and that counter and measuring cups and spoons, and chopping and basting and checking for doneness! Ack!!!! But next week I have to do it all over again because I have more bread to bake and one more batch of cookies before I fly off to Wisconsin on December 1. I have to get it all done and shipped, to say nothing of wrapping. But you know, even though I am tired of cooking/baking today, it is something I love to do and I couldn't do much of it if I was still working. I could have made the big turkey, etc., but bread and cookies wouldn't have been on the agenda. So why am I complaining?! Oh well, a little whine never hurt anybody. Today I am looking forward to Turkey Sandwiches, the best thing about Thanksgiving, in my book. With a little cranberry sauce in the sandwich and a nice big piece of lettuce--oooo, my mouth is watering.

We had a nice afternoon/evening yesterday--ate the lovely, delicious dinner (too quickly) with the music from "Cold Mountain" in the background, then played a game of Quiddler, while listening and singing to my Retirement Mixed CD, and with pumpkin pie and heaps of whipped cream, we watched "Flushed Away", one of those clever cartoon movies. I think my Mom and Brother are very happy that they have me to arrange all of this for them, otherwise they'd end up at Angel's Buffet! And this year it wasn't half the exhaustion I usually feel, which means retirement is helping my energy level! On a related matter, I went to the doctor last week, too, between batches of baked goods, and my blood pressure was much lower than it has been in years.

Today is going to be a very (sorry Bookworm) low blood pressure day because I'm not going to ask anything of myself, except to lounge around, read the next in the series of the Diana Gabaldon books I'm reading, a big fat one called The Fiery Cross, drink warm liquids and have that sandwich. And I do believe there will be leftovers for dinner.

Friendship Vows

After spending the day accompanying Bookworm to a doctor at the University of Washington medical center on Monday, it occurred to me that there could be vows said between friends and if one weren't willing to say these vows, then they would not be deemed a TRUE FRIEND. The vows would be something like this:

I promise to be your friend to love and to cherish,

In success and in failure

In fame and in obscurity

In pain and in contentment

During embarrassing medical examinations

During times of too much drink

During overweight and underweight

Regardless of lunatic sexual adventures

Whether we like ourselves or not

In silliness and soberness

In times of honesty or white lies

While in anguish or euphoria

While lost or found.

In times of direst need

I promise to hear every word

And never to judge

For as long as we both shall live and even after.

Ali Ice Skating

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Originally uploaded by Porkbone

I know you are all aware of how extraordinary my Granddaughter, Alison, is, but lest you forget, here she is imitating an Olympic ice skater. I am impressed that she interacts with the little TV she is allowed to view, rather than sitting in front of it slack-jawed.

Photogenic Fall

I love the Fall. It's colorful, crispy chilly, full of plans for Halloween and for the coming holidays, for a new school year, for a new TV season. You can get prettier pictures in the Fall than at any other time of year and I'm always inspired to get outside with my camera. Here are a couple of pictures from this year and last year. I think this year has been one of our prettiest Falls. The picture above is the seedball that is left after a small clematis flower is done blooming.

This fungus picture was taken at Scenic Beach.

And this one is of a leaf on my grape vine.

This photo and the next one were taken next to the river that flows through Leavenworth.

Best Of

My Favorite Movie of 1985

Last week, at a dinner of our women's group, SLANT, we were trying to list the three music CDs we'd take to a desert island with us. It wasn't easy, because we all love music, so the conversation went on for a long time ranging from Carmina Burana to Uncle Bonsai.

That got me thinking about movies and which movies I'd take to that desert island. That's even harder. I have been since childhood a huge movie lover. Our Mom took us to movies every week and my earliest movie memory is of Song of the South, with Uncle Remus and Brer Rabbit. How could i possibly come up with a list? But my family has been keeping what we call New Year's Papers since 1985, more than 20 years. They are lists of Best Ofs for books, TV shows, movies, etc. for the previous year. That's where I'd have to start. Just for kicks here is a list of the movies I've listed since 1985, with the movies from '85 forward:

Sophie's Choice and The Big Chill - 1985

Amadeus - 1986

The Return of Martin Guerre - 1987

Gorillas in the Mist, Rasing Arizona, Mystic Pizza and A Fish Called Wanda - 1988 (Couldn't make up my mind or a good movie year, not sure which)

Dad, Bull Durham and Round Midnight - 1989

Jean de Florett, Cinema Paradiso and Bird - 1991 (another good movie year)

Cyrano/Truly, Madly, Deeply/Malcolm X - 1992

Crying Game and Sleepless in Seattle - 1993

The Piano/Schindler's List/Four Weddings and a Funeral/The Player/Shawshank Redemption - 1994 (Wow!)

Rob Roy/Blue Sky/Apollo 13 - 1995

Il Postino - 1996

English Patient/Donnie Brasco/The Usual Suspects - 1997

Good Will Hunting - 1998

Shakespeare in Love/Waking Ned Devine/You've Got Mail - 1999

American Beauty/Sixth Sense/The Amazing Mr. Ripley - 2000

Oh, Brother, Where Art Thou - 2001

My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Changing Lanes - 2002

Frieda/The Hours/Finding Nemo - 2003

Hero, Bad Santa and Mystic River - 2004

Vera Drake/Sideways/Shaun of the Dead/Boys Don't Cry - 2005

Million Dollar Baby/The Three Burials of Mequiades Estrado - 2006

I guess I would have to have a really big boat to take all these movies to the deserted island, plus all my favorites from before 1985!

Promises

Sunday we were asked at 2:30 to attend a “renewal of wedding vows” for Fossil Guy and Bookworm at 4:30 on that same afternoon. If you know Bookworm at all you know that she might call you with such a request out of the blue and that if you know what’s good in this world, you go. Which we did and were glad of it. It was a lovely occasion—lots of people heeded the call and came ready for anything. I asked Fossil Guy what was going on and he responded that he didn’t know much except that he was to put a new ring on Bookworm’s finger and showed me the ring, then residing on his little finger.

The Fellowship minister, Liz, led the two in their vows; Fossil Guy said something very sweet off the cuff to Bookworm and Bookworm read something she had written, also sweet. Grandson, Alex, nee Aliester, announced that his grandparents were “very good” ones and Granddaughter, Rachel, also known as Mrs. H. lately, read an announcement written by her Grandma. We were asked to tell of something we knew about the couple we were there to fete and I remembered, nearly 40 years ago, the two of them standing face to face in the old Fellowship hall, with arms around each other, staring into each other’s eyes. I believe I have a picture of it, which I will attach with this post if I can find it.

The proceedings brought tears to most of our eyes, including the old/new bride and groom who we toasted with champagne and then we ate slices of pumpkin pie on the deck, in the unseasonably warm October afternoon.

It made me wonder what kind of vows I would say now, after being with my mate for almost 15 years. I asked him what he would say and he, not being one to take such questions seriously, replied that he would promise to continue to pester me.
I would have to promise to always welcome my mate home with a hug and kiss, to praise a job well done, to kiss him goodnight every single night before sleep, to be patient with his bossy mother, to make spaghetti at least twice a month, to hug him in public often, to never ask him why he is driving in a certain direction or at a certain speed, to come without complaining to view a You Tube video or a joke sent by a friend and to turn out the lights in the room I am not in.

Here is another picture, more current, of FG and BW on that lovely Fall day.

North to Alaska

This is the big glacier responsible for Glacier Bay.

It's dirty now because it's not moving much anymore.

I realize I haven't put a post in about our Alaska cruise with our Mom's. My Mate and I were not sure it was going to be a "good time had by all", but it turned out to be grand. We all had a good time in our own ways. Mate's Mom got to gamble in the casino on board. My Mom got to be waited on hand and foot and to buy some good bargains. Mate got to eat 3 desserts each dinner if he wanted to and I got to take lots of pretty pictures and I saw some wildlife this time.

We had taken an Alaskan cruise a few years back and I guess it was because we didn't have a balcony, we ended up not seeing anything aside from a few dolphins and a couple of whale spouts. This time, slowly cruising through Glacier Bay, we spotted two brown bears swimming from one side of the bay to the other. They were right out in the middle. Maybe they had heard there were better berries on the other side!

This is Marilyn Glacier, a newer, still active glacier.

We saw lots of whales and dolphins and a seal sailing by on a little iceberg. We spent lots of time playing Quiddler in the game room, which had windows across one wall, and that was a great place for seeing animals. The people with tables next to the windows were good spotters. You would think we would see eagles but I see more eagles in Kitsap County. We got to see and hear calving from one of the glaciers in Glacier Bay and that was suprising--it was very loud even though the piece that fell seemed very small. I am told that some people who went up during a rainy time heard lots of calving. The rain might have been a factor.

We enjoyed our Mom's and showing them around some towns we'd been to before, Skagway and Ketchikan, and seeing some things with them that were new to us. We were both happy to get back, though, and be done with "parent sitting". I'm sure the parents in question wouldn't have thought they were being "sat" but it did feel that way to us.

There are more pictures from this trip at my Flickr site: http://www.flickr.com/photos/song_bird/

Ali the Great

DSC01030_edited-1
Originally uploaded by Porkbone

My Granddaughter, Ali, has learned to do a somersault. She is only 2 years and 5 months old. I think this shows she is incredibly advanced and talented. She also does stunt "falls", which she rates as OKAY, BAD or EXTREME. I believe the extreme rating means she things the fall is awesome. I'm sure she'll be rating her somersaults soon.

Pulling Myself Together

Continuing with the thoughts of the last post--I think retirement will morph, evolve, change into other purposes in other times. This morning, reading Romancing the Ordinary by Sarah Ban Breathnach, I found this passage about "psychically puttering" , a way of regrouping:

"Writer Judith Thurman offers this: staring at a fire, watching the rain, listening to music, reading catalogs, stenciling a picture frame, fantasizing about an old flame, doing a double-acrostic while drinking an entire pot of expresso, trying to explain oneself telephathically to one's mother, writing a seductively critical letter to a famous novelist that will never get mailed, sorting one's panty hose by color, studying palmistry or ancient Greek, making an evening purse from the scraps of some old silk ties..." Breathnach continues: In other words, doing nothing important to the rest of the world, but something vital for your sanity".

That appears to be the stage of "retirement" I am in at present. Finding pleasure in doing nothing important to the rest of the world. I think I'll go sort my panty hose now.

The Rest of My Life

I am retired. Ta-Da! Before I retired people kepting asking me, "What are you going to DO?!" I could see they couldn't imagine what a person does, all day long, at home. Do they watch TV and eat bonbons? Do they read and eat potato chips? Do they clean house and weed the garden? Do they create something? Do they do art? Do they go back to school? Do they get a part time job? It seemed like a vast unknown to nearly everyone I talked to. I really didn't have an answer for people who asked me what I would DO. I tried, "Have fun". I tried, "Do all those things I've been wanting to do but don't have time for now". I tried being a little more specific and saying, "I'm going to do lots more photography" or "I'm going to take care of my huge garden". That didn't seem to satisfy either. I am thinking that this is more a question they are asking themselves--really not asking me at all. No answer was satisfactory because it was their answer they were looking for.

Well, now that I'm here--in the third week of retirement--my answer is quite clear to me. What I am doing is nearly all of the above, except for the going back to school, unless we are talking about the "school of learning a new camera", and getting a part time job, though this garden is practically a full time job! Yesterday morning I spent a couple of hours getting caught up on the episodes of Lost that I'd recorded and then when I found I'd missed recording the last 2 hour episode, I caught up by going to ABC.com and reading the synopsis (which was remarkably detailed). This seems indulgent to me and I am happy about that. This is something I would NEVER have allowed myself to do during my working life. Not only would I have had to search for a day where devoting a couple of hours in the morning to Lost was possible, I would have been upset with myself for "wasting" time--time that "should" have been spent cleaning floors or washing clothes or ironing work outfits. So, part of retirement is indulgence, perhaps more properly termed "pleasure".

Today I did something I used to envy. Way back, 20 years ago, when I walked from where I parked my car to the building I worked at in Kingston each morning, I used to see a woman walking around her beautiful garden, inside her white picket fence, carrying a cup of coffee, surveying her domain. I imagined she was deciding what needed to be done that day, in the garden or elsewhere in her life. It seemed like such a peaceful and satisfying way to start a day. I have never forgotten it and this morning I performed that same ritual. I surveyed my shabby garden, dreaming of those prunings and weedings and movings that might result in a garden as lovely as the Kingston woman's. I found a ripe tomato, pulled a few weeds, clipped a few straggling old vines and found several spiders to photograph. What a lovely way to start a day. What a pleasure.

I don't have big plans for the day. The plans are small. Do the Tuesday crossword puzzle while I eat lunch. Do a little more weeding it if doesn't rain. Check email, send email to a friend or two. Read some more of my Lisa See book-- about 17th century Chinese women, Snow Flower and Lily. Maybe start catching up with Grey's Anatomy. I'll take my pleasure with the day. This is what I'm DOing in retirement.

Slant

These two lovely ladies were instrumentally helpful in forming a women's group last night. Bookworm wanted to call it Slant, after a line in an Emily Dickinson poem, so Slant it is. I like it. It conjers a way of being, a way of seeing, a way of doing--slant. We drank and ate and laughed and several cried. Seems to me that's just how it should be in a women's group and there seemed to be a very nice level of trust as the women opened up their hearts to each other. There were only 6 of us, with 10 invited, but the 6 that were there seem pretty compatible. I am excited to see where we are in one year, in terms of how well we know each other, what we have done, how we feel about the group. I need this now that I am retiring. I don't want to end up like my mother, who seems content to see me and my Aunt Billie and have that be her whole world. I need more women than that, if only to ask them how to wax my eyebrows! Slant also could be seen as a symbol of moving forward, if the slant is to the right. That is definitely what I am doing--moving forward into the next 25 years.

Stick Me One More Time

Okay….so…..I am now a believer in Acupuncture! I experienced my first session with the Lovely Lori Lee today. I have a stiff, sore neck—maybe a pinched nerve—maybe a painful tense neck the result of tension over sick friends and retirement coming and who knows what else? The fact is it hurts like hell and I have a hard time getting out of bed in the morning in such a way as to avoid awful pain like my neck was going to freeze in place or my head was going to snap off and go rolling off my neck and onto the floor.

I needed to do SOMETHING. I tried massage, yoga, Tylenol, Naproxen, hot neck wraps, cold neck wraps, hot showers, more massage, relaxing self-talk, self-massage, stretching, walking, chocolate, cookies, booze—nothing helped. Everybody I knew who had pain or suffering said, go see Lori. The friend with a back so bad she walked hunched over like a very old woman, the dear man friend going through chemo, the dear woman friend with horrible pelvic floor distress, the retired nurse with bad knees, the coworker with a bad hip, all said, go see Lori Lee. I went today.

And I’m here to tell you that Lori Lee not only gives you acupuncture treatment, she gives you caring and she gives you comfort and she gives you a warmed bed and soft music, which Fossil Guy describes as “uneventful” but for me was “transporting” and she gives you 30 minutes of uninterrupted peace. I think that last bit is the best bit. When does a person get a half hour of lying on a warm bed in a quiet room with the lights dimmed and music playing? In my experience that is a very rare phenomenon. Maybe people like Paris Hilton and Elizabeth Taylor and Donald Trump pay thousands of dollars to go to spas for just such treatment, but the likes of you and me don’t often experience it. In my case, this costs me a measly, paltry $15! Good grief, who wouldn’t want to do this? Afraid of needles? Bosh! A little sting, less than a mosquito bite, less than a pinch, way less than a stubbed toe, far less than a paper cut, no comparison to a blood test. And after the needles are in, a blissful half hour to yourself! Go for it Boys and Girls! It’s the best $15 you’ll ever spend. Chiropractic and massage are okay, massage being nicer, I think, but this is Heaven on Earth. Those ancients knew what they were doing. I know, they bound their women’s feet, and there was Tiananmen Square and there have been other indignities to the Chinese people, but they did invent Acupuncture. The best thing since aspirin and it doesn’t upset your stomach.

I am an Action Hero!

You scored as James Bond, Agent 007, James Bond is MI6's best agent, a suave, sophisticated super spy with charm, cunning, and a license's to kill. He doesn't care about rules or regulations and somewhat amoral. He does care about saving humanity though, as well as the beautiful women who fill his world. Bond has expensive tastes, a wide knowledge of many subjects, and his usually armed with a clever gadget and an appropriate one-liner. James Bond, Agent 007 92% Batman, the Dark Knight 83% Lara Croft 75% Indiana Jones 75% Maximus 75% El Zorro 67% William Wallace 67% Captain Jack Sparrow 58% Neo, the "One" 50% The Terminator 42% The Amazing Spider-Man 33% Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com Try it! My mate is going to be astounded because his favorite is James Bond. Now he'll know he married me because I AM BOND!

Right Now

Okay, so.....what's happening right now is that Republican politicos are debating whether Bill Clinton should be allowed in the White House, whether Scooter Libby should be pardoned and whether any one of them will make a good President. A couple days ago we were calling like crazy to vote for Melinda, Blake, Jordan or Lakisha as our next American Idol. Yesterday we recorded CSI on CBS and mourned the fact the Raines seems to have disappeared and so has Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip, for sure. NBC is driving us crazy by starting programs 5 minutes late or later so we can't DVD them. This week The Sopranos will air episode 3 of the very, last (sob) season of their wonderful series. This week the sun has come out more that it has in the last two months with only a few sprinkles of rain. Today there is a Mexican potluck to celebrate Cinco De Mayo even though it is only el Cuatro de Mayo and I have made Fossil Guy's famous Jalapeno Pie, which everyone will love providing I have not used too many jalapeno slices. This Sunday my Mate will fly off to Utah to visit his Mom and deal with the Honey-Do list she has prepared for him. Nine days from today my son will be preparing Mother's Day dinner for me, his lovely, dear wife and his mother-in-law, right here in our State! Right now, today and yesterday and the day before, Fossil Guy was reacting to his first chemo session in not a very happy way. Right now he may be wondering if chemo is worth it. Right now I am thinking mostly of him and not much about anything else because, in the scheme of things, the aforementioned things that are happening right now or in a couple of days or last week, this is the one that is affecting me at the deepest level. It's all those other things that are helping me cope with this illness of my friend.

A Good Day

I remember the day that Bookworm talked about how she was having an unusually happy day. That's the way I feel today--unusually, unpreditably, for no particular reason Happy. I'm as Happy as my granddaughter looks in the picture above. I got a great recipe from Fossil Guy today, it was gloomy and drizzly and I didn't care, we laughed lots at work, I got to go straight home from work, nobody got kicked off of Idol, Simon liked everybody, I lost another .5 pound, took a catnap at lunch, but none of that explains why I woke up singing (and dancing even) and nothing has changed that all day. Do endorphins creep into your system sometimes, in the middle of the night, and allow you to wake up as though you are Cinderella in the old Disney version with the mice singing and the birds flitting around putting ribbons in your hair? It's inexplicable! In my old age I have learned not to question such days. What's the point in that? Might as well take them and make the most of them, for tomorrow who knows?!

Proof!

See, I told you I was there!

A Birthday Party of Note

Saturday we had a birthday party to inaugarate the FGuy/BWorm's new deck. It was auspicious and "of note" because it marked the 73rd and 63rd birthdays of FG and Mom, respectively. Many pictures were taken, some of them shown here. I really was there, but because I was behind this particular camera and I drank too much great dark beer to remember to have somebody take my picture, I appear to be absent. However, other cameras were clicking and so other blogs may show that I was, in fact, very much THERE.

It was a small party, unlike some years when there have been 50 or more people in attendance to adore and gift us. We ate salami, lovely cheeses, the aforementioned dark beer, wine, champagne, strawberries, grapes and chocolate cookies. Since that was not nearly enough, we had Boston Cream Pie later. Jim and I received accolades and gifts--I particularly liked my Estee Lauder DayWear face cream which smells like cucumbers and will help my "aging" skin. I believe Jim very much liked the lawn/deck chair that was given to him by No Apologie's parents and was already fantasizing about lounging on it, in the sun (which WILL come!) and reading mystery books BW gave him, not to mention the silly other book she gave him, which he began quoting from immediately, eliciting groans from all.

Jim's charming, tanned, fit sister, Doris, was with us, too. I have been seeing lots of Doris lately, since seeing her at the hospital the day FG had his biopsy. I am liking this trend of seeing Doris. She is what I would call a "Great Gal". Very no-nonsense Eastern Washington person--lots like her big brother. She adds a lot to a group of Unitarians who tend to go off on tangents of esoteric bent. My Mate, The Republican, also helps to keep us in line. We had a most interesting and lively discussion about Life After Death on this party day. Not at all maudlin, just fascinating. There was one of us who believed whole-heartedly that there was a Heaven of some sort, there was one of us who wanted very badly to believe that there was something After, and there were three of us who believed in nothing of the kind. A consensus was not reached. We all know where we stand now!

I like the pictures I took even though FG may comment that some are a tiny bit out of focus, but what can you expect from somebody who was full of good dark beer and forgot to turn her flash on. I liked the day, too, and hope to have another "fun time on the deck" when the weather is warmer. The deck is devine! Next up? The painting of the interior of the house while FG lounges on the lawn chair, well away from the fumes.

Now and now and now

THEY always say, "Live in the Now". It sounds so simple, but damn it's hard to do. I find myself looking into the future as if I can really tell what's going to happen 3 months, 6 months, 1 year from now and already being worried about what might be happening that far in advance. What a waste of energy. This kind of characteristic really causes havoc when your oldest male friend is diagnosed with cancer. It's freak-out time. I'm not like Bookworm, in that I don't rush to offer advice or movies or books or any of what she is doing, but I am decidedly feeling like I MUST DO SOMETHING!!!!! AND I MUST DO IT NOW, BECAUSE WHO KNOWS??!! I am pretty sure that my freaking out is not being noticed because I'm only doing it in my head, at night, in the morning, when I can't sleep, when nothing else is taking my attention. I can't seem to pull it back and LIVE IN THE NOW. I am grateful for BW and FGs blogs that are telling us, "it's okay. we are doing okay." It helps me more than it helps them, maybe. I need reassurance that I am not needed 24 hours a day, that I may be able to think about other things rather than obsessing about how my two friends are doing. That one day in the real rather than imagined future I will be needed for more than hugs and emails and "check ins". But for now I can actually live my life and they can live theirs and we will overlap in a relatively normal fashion....and not be frantic. I hope I can do that. I'm trying.

My Friend

I haven’t written about my friend, Fossil Guy, and the state of his health. When I think about it my mind skitters away to other things that are not as frightening as the specter of cancer. It is hard to grasp that I am in danger of losing him. I don’t want to entertain the idea at all. When the last doctor suggested that Asbestos can cause “other” ailments that affect the lungs, I grasped that notion like a life preserver. I am now floating in the cold waters of limbo. This Tuesday’s biopsy will tell the tale.

In the meantime I flit in and out of awareness that if the news is bad there will be an “expiration date” stamped on FG’s forehead, as he so drolly put it. If the news is bad I will have to look squarely at the fact of a finite time left in this friendship that has been part of the foundation of my life for almost four decades. Bookworm and No Apologies have written eloquently about their feelings. For some reason I can’t. The scare is too big, my feelings are too deep for me to put into words. I keep thinking, “it’s too early, it’s too soon”. The fact is, I’ve expected FG to live to be very, very old. I’ve expected him to be 10 years out there in front of me, forging the way for at least 20 more years. I may still get this wish but I never thought it would be in danger so soon.

Just Because Blog

Since my blog buddies, Fossil Guy and Bookworm aren’t posting much lately it is my responsibility to get something out there. Trouble is, I don’t know if there is much of import in my life to blog about.

There was the Super Bowl. After watching the Seahawks give it up to the Bears it was anticlimactic, but we wanted to watch anyway. We had FG and BW over to watch it with us. My mate made a great pizza, Fossil Guy made his famous, delicious Jalapeno Cheese Pie, we had Fat Bastard beer from Silver City Brewing and BW, deciding to forgo the wonderful things we had made, brought along her Nutri-system munchies, dry looking things in very tiny bags.

The game was pretty good in the first half—the women decided to root for the Bears, the men picked the Colts who they were pretty sure would win. After the first half BW wanted to change sides but we wouldn’t let her and the second half saw the females snoozing while the males wallowed in victory. It’s a wonder they didn’t jump up and slam their chests together, but they’re both too old for that. My favorite part of the game was the heavy rain. I was pretty impressed that all those guys could play as if nothing was going on—except for the fumbling. Or maybe they’re just crazy millionaires.

We have new computers but we can’t use them yet because there is so much involved in getting them ready to use. I am anxious to try the new Vista system, but my mate is grumbling about it already. I’m glad I don’t know much about computers. I don’t know when I’m being well-served or not. I am happy when the icons are pretty and my email goes out smoothly.
Every day I check my daughter-in-law’s baby blog to see if there are new pictures of my beautiful and fascinating granddaughter and most days I am happy to see that there are. She is learning her letters and I wish I was there to help her.

Well, this post is not political or insightful or literary or poetic. It is what it is. Every day life. Hope my more talented blogger friends will post soon!

Not Sad, Now Happy

This is a post for those of my friends who were concerned about my State of Mind, regarding my last post. Never fear! I am a most resilient person and almost immediately after writing that post I felt much, much better. I am now looking forward to retirement again, especially the opportunity to visit with my children and grandchildren--longer trips--maybe even in the Summer, which I can't do now. Thank you for your kind comments and concern, Irene and Maria. You are very dear.
The picture is of me, my Mother and my daughter, Erin, in Scotland in the Spring of 2006. I will take my mother to see my other daughter, Carolyn, in San Diego, maybe in September. And who knows, Maria, one day I might show up on your doorstep! I've always wanted to go to Spain!

Retirement Angst

Only 7 ½ Months Away

I’ve read lots and lots of articles about retirement lately. They are about whether you are financially ready and have hobbies or goals or some inner resources to keep you engaged in the years ahead. None of them have addressed something I seem to be experiencing. It must be the emotional letting go. It’s all I can attribute the anger and sadness to. If it was only happening at work it might be easier to diagnose. It’s happening at work but I’m tense and crying at home, too. I’m getting angry fast and I’m crying at the drop of a hat. The crying is especially unusual, since I’ve been taking Paxil for several years now and have hardly shed a tear since the first month of the medication. The other day I got angry at something that was happening at work, spouted off so much that I hurt somebody’s feelings and then ended up crying! This isn’t like me at all.

I’m chalking it up to “letting go and saying goodbye”. The past several months I’ve had dreams about houses. I’m moving out of one house and into another. The first house is kind of ratty, old, messy. The second house is better, though not a mansion. It was pretty easy to interpret those dreams and since this is the way I often work through difficult situations, I accepted that as my way of coping with the coming change. Last week I started dreaming about people at work and I decided those were saying goodbye dreams. But these emotions are a surprise. I expected to feel teary the last few days, but I am surprised it is hitting me so soon. The process of leaving after ten years is bigger and more important than I ever thought. It is going to be a huge change—maybe the biggest change in my life ever.

Marriage was a given at 18, in my generation, and I pretty much thought I knew what to expect. It was exciting, I knew how to cook and clean, there really were no surprises, even in the bedroom. Then there was a divorce from a man who I didn’t like anymore—no real problems leaving that or starting a new life. Then another marriage with a man I was passionate about. Easy transition there, too. Having children was certainly a shock—lots different from babysitting (which I thought qualified me for motherhood!) The divorce from that second fellow was harder and in some ways I am still recovering from that one. This retirement event seems to be just as big as childbearing in it’s change to my life, maybe bigger in it’s affect on how I will live my life from now on.

I haven’t been “home” since 1984. That’s 22 years of 9 to 5, get dressed, put on make up, go to work, come home, make dinner living. That’s 22 years of having money to spend, more so in the last several years. If I want it, I can pretty much buy it. I can plan trips and pay for them. I have a husband who makes good money, but I’m not going to have as much of my own ever again and it’s beginning to scare me. More importantly, I’m thinking, is the people part of this whole thing. After 10 years at this job I’ve had contact with people, mostly women, daily. We’ve talked about everything—menopause, bladder leaking, diabetes, pimples, constipation, colonoscopies, mammograms, kids or grandkids who are making bad decisions, us making bad decisions. We’ve complained and had good times, we’ve done puzzles together and talked about American Idol and CSI and movies, books, husbands who are leaving their clothes on the floor or not helping out; we’ve gone out to lunch, we’ve traded magazines, we’ve dieted and lost weight together and then gained it all back together. I’ve had the equivalent of at least 10 sisters that I saw 5 days a week. How am I going to replace that? There’s Sid, the New Yorker, who was my guide to New York. There’s Roger, the neurosurgeon, who is old enough to have wonderful stories about WW II and other fascinating times. There’s Wendy, who is in the Society for Creative Anachronism, making Renaissance clothing all the time. There’s Melissa, who is young and about to have her first baby. There’s Cindy, who is pretty religious, who I never would have struck up a friendship with, but who is oddly interesting. There’s Teri, who is like another daughter to me, whose two daughters I have given voice lessons to. There’s Jim, the substitute custodian, who has been entertaining me with stories of his practical jokes for years and Mary, the head custodian, who is a wonderful bawdy woman, whose father made many of the bird houses I have. There’s Jeff who shares my love for Napoleon Dynamite and Chris, who loves The Man Show and Will Farrell as much as I do. There is Oscar, the courier from Bremerton School District who is just the sweetest young man imaginable and always stops to say Hello. There’s Peter, who comes in from Speed’s Stationers and is whacky in the way I adore. There’s Lorraine, who makes chocolate chip cookies in our break room when she is stressed out about her Head Start Department. And there are so many others that I’ve shared my life with and who have shared theirs with me. All of them have marveled over the beautiful pictures of Ali that I have displayed. Who will do that after I retire?

Even when I have changed marriage partners I’ve still had the same “work” people in my life. But in retirement? I don’t know. It truly is a great unknown. Fossil Guy will probably comment that I am making too much of it, that retirement is a breeze—after all, he did it many, many years ago and has thrived. I do think I will eventually thrive, too, but I’m going to have to find a new group of friends as there is no way I will be able to keep all my old ones. I acted in the community theater long enough to learn that people who share intense time with you, fade out of your life very quickly once the time is over. Consequently, we have set up a lunch group of 6 of us, but before too long there won’t be much holding us together except for the fact that we worked for the same place for awhile and that we’re hungry. Those who are still at work won’t be able to relate to those of us who aren’t.

I think that’s all the kvetching I’m going to do about this for now. It helps to get it out and to think about it. It’ll be helpful to get comments from Fossil Guy who’ll tell me to suck it up, I’m sure.

The True Meaning of Christmas II

DSC09334_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

And yet another example of what Christmas is all about!

The True Meaning of Christmas

DSC09062_edited-1, originally uploaded by Porkbone.

This picture give me tears of pleasure! It's my son and his little girl out looking for a Christmas Tree to take home.

I am back now from my 6 days with my son and daughter-in-law and wonderful granddaughter, Ali. My brain is full of sounds and images I hope not to lose. Most of the sounds are Alison’s. I asked Michael to play the “what’s this” game with me and to everything I answered “dah-ee” so he could understand how Ali answered that question almost every time. I love the sounds she made that went along with the slap on the floor to indicate where her companion was supposed to sit—the singing sounds when she was playing on her own—the food appreciation noises. I should have brought a recording device for all of them, though I doubt I’ll forget them any time soon.

The images will remain clear for a very long time. The sign for “more”, the sign for “I’m hungry”, the dancing and swaying to the many songs that came from her toys, her beautiful curling golden hair, her sparkling blue eyes. She would race like a demon from one end of the living room to the kitchen, back and forth, accompanying herself with squealing and giggles. She and Daddy would play a game after dinner, slapping their hands down on the table and highchair tray. Ali would often take the lead and try to fool her Daddy—laughing in delight when she was able to fake him out by putting her hand somewhere else. I have been demonstrating the “sad face” to people—Ali’s fake sad face is a riot. She tried to get us to think she was upset and then she’d laugh and clap her hands at the joke. Am I biased to think that most 19-month old children don’t know hot to make jokes yet?

I mentioned the songs from the toys. It seems 80% of toys these days have buttons to push that result in noises or songs or both. If a child has a Leap Pad, as Ali does, there are 5 or 6 songs on every page of the story. One of Ali’s favorite toys, her barn, has animal sounds when gates are opened or animals sit in their pens. It also includes a peppy song. To all of these songs, Ali dances, whether she’s sitting, kneeling or standing. Her favorite song is the elephant’s song in one of her Leap Pad books and she’s precociously learned how to change the tempo from very fast to very slow, with a sway for the slow and a bounce for the fast. She skips all the other pages to get to that one where her fingers quickly press the necessary spots on the page to get to the desired song.

I think I could write pages and pages about what I watched Ali do. I spent five days just watching and playing with her all day—the 6th day we went to the Mall of America to visit Santa Claus. Irene had been preparing for days to get Ali ready for this occasion. Last year, when she was 7 months old, they got a good, grinning picture before she realized there was a strange bearded man behind her. This year she’s much more aware so prep work was necessary. There was a copy of the picture with Santa from last year and talk about what nice a fellow he was. While standing in line Mommy showed Ali what Santa was doing with the other kids. Mind you, this is not one of those scruffy Santa’s with a phony beard and junky red-velveteen coat and pants. This Santa has his own pretty white hair and curly beard, wears flannel Christmas print shirts, velvet pants with suspenders, candy-striped socks. He is the picture of what we all think Santa should be. He has all kinds of tricks up his sleeve, too. He managed to get everyone before Ali to smile and laugh with his shenanigans.

When Ali’s turn came her Mommy put her in the little rocking chair and Santa crept up behind her. None of the squeaky toys or silliness from the photographer could drag a smile from her. She was very seriously skeptical. When she finally put two and two together and turned to see who was behind her it was all over. There is a picture, above, and Santa is very animated in it, but Ali is as deadpan as it gets.

Pages and pages could be written…I have to say that my son and daughter in law continue to be exemplary parents. They have established routines that are workable. They feed Ali good food; make sure she gets enough rest. They stimulate her mind. They tell her they love her. She is an incredibly bright and happy child whose unhappy faces are mostly jokes!

Thanksgiving is a complicated little holiday for me. It’s been good, it’s been awful, sometimes I have ridden home crying and asking why I have the family that I do. Mom cooked for many years and then when she became awfully tired of doing it we began to share the day. Now I do it all myself. I remember:

The Thanksgiving when I was 16 and went to dinner at my boyfriend’s house. My folks were stunned and hurt.

The Thanksgivings that Dad and my brothers barely said a civil word to each other.

The Thanksgivings when the “football” game would compete with dinner.

The cold mashed potatoes at almost every Mom-prepared Thanksgiving.

Wondering what mood brother, Dan, would present this year.

The year brother, Stanley, brought homemade biscuits, carried in his drum.

The Thanksgiving in Tracyton when Mom invited two Argentinian young men to our meal.

The Thanksgiving I rebelled against the idea of doing all the cooking myself and decided to buy dinner pre-made from the store. The gravy was gray and too salty, the string bean casserole was overcooked, the pie was…..store bought.

The Thanksgivings my Dad choked up over the personal prayer he said before the meal.

The first Thanksgiving dinner I prepared as a young married woman.

The years when we wouldn’t let Dad say a real prayer and we all just said “grace”.

The pressure as a kid to find something “to be thankful for” because we would be asked.

The first Thanksgiving after my Dad died. Brother, Dan, did all the puns and told obvious jokes Dad would have told, in his honor.

The Thanksgiving when Stanley started coughing after dinner and fainted.

The Thanksgiving in Ventura, CA. It was just not right for it to be so sunny and warm!

The tiny Thanksgivings we have had since my brother, Dan, died in 2003.

The delicious birds, dressings, salads, pies I’ve gobbled over the years.

The extremely full feeling that I have just before I decide there’s just a little bit of room left for pumpkin pie with whipped cream.

And all the wonderful turkey sandwiches with, cranberry sauce, mayonnaise and lettuce!

Thanksgivings are quieter now. The two volatile members of the family are gone and it’s just we 4 left. We eat the fabulous dinner that took all day to make in ten minutes, quickly savoring the moist turkey and the gravy on the dressing and mashed potatoes. We tease Mom because she doesn’t finish her salad or her peas. We play games or watch a cute movie after dinner and then we eat that pie. I have come to terms with cooking the dinner by myself and find myself enjoying the entire day now. I even let Mom say grace over the food we are about to partake. And I am always thankful for something.

New York, New York

I am back from New York City! What a town! Everything I ever heard about it is a myth! This is what I heard: The subways are dangerous. The city is dirty. The people are unfriendly. Nobody says “Have a nice day” like they do in the Northwest. The cabbies are rude. It’s hard to navigate such a big city. The streets are crowded or scarily empty, with a purse snatcher or mugger around every corner.

All of it is untrue! The subways were great and the people in them just like any other people on mass transit anywhere in the world. They can get you anywhere you want to go very quickly, making it very easy to get around, thus trumping the other myth about navigating the city.

The people were very friendly—the store clerks were helpful and said “Have a great day!” when you left. The cabbies were the same and it was impressive how they could maneuver their way through the crowded streets. There was lots of honking—that’s something you see in movies and on TV that is true. I didn’t see anybody flipping anybody off though.

The city was very clean. We went to a Halloween night parade in Greenwich Village. There were thousands of people on the street, eating, drinking from paper cups and bottles and throwing stuff on the street. The partying went on into the night, but the next morning there wasn’t a trace of it. I noticed that storekeepers hosed the sidewalks off in front of their shops every morning. There are dogs being walked all the time and their poop is dutifully picked up by the dog owner. Crews must be out there in the middle of the night cleaning—every morning there are big plastic garbage bags ready for pickup.

I never felt unsafe, even in the big crowds at the parade. We took precautions before the parade, only took money for dinner and ID with us, no purses to snatch, but I noticed many woman with their purses. There were some incidences that night, probably caused by too much drinking. All those people had come into the city and were making the most of it. It was noisy for hours after we went to bed.

I had 5 days of apartment living and though it is drastically different from living in a house in the Northwest, it is certainly doable. The restaurants were everywhere and wonderful. We have a hard time here finding a good one within driving distance, whereas there you could throw and rock and it would land on one within walking distance. We ate Cuban, Austrian, Lebanese, Chinese (Peking Duck no less!), French and American food. With the exception of the Chinese place everything was within walking distance of the apartment we were staying in. This is a wonderful attribute of city living.

You can tell, I’m sure, that I loved my visit to NYC. I got so mentally stimulated by the diverse culture and the fantastic places to go and things to see that I can’t sleep without dreaming of it. I haven’t downloaded my pictures yet. I’m hoping for a good one from the parade and I’ll share anything that is interesting.