Ali the Great

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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.