OUT IN PUBLIC “AT OUR AGE”

At an impasse in life where we can walk into any retail business and be asked for our AARP Card for our Senior Citizen’s discount, I’m finally getting used to it.  The reason it’s taking me so long to get used to it, is that behind these eyes I still feel like the same person that I’ve always been, possibly 26 to 30 years old. This is the paradox that I’ve alluded to many times.  A quick glance at my own reflection in a mirror or window tells me that I’m “entitled to” a discount for getting up in years, long in the tooth, and/or of the older generation.  Retirement has been a challenge.

It seems I’ve cocooned myself in years of “self interest”, writing and just getting used to retiring.  What this entire statement means is that I’ve gotten used to having the house to myself for a certain portion of the day.  I have “stuff” to do, but have the option of picking and choosing what I want to do.  I can go to the gym (have to make myself go).  I can bead, and that’s something I am totally interested in, and can do sitting on my ass.  I can write, which I love to do; or I can clean out flowerbeds (no longer a joy),  clean the carpets, dust, vacuum, do laundry, cook, or just none of the afore mentioned.  I can sit on the bed and read while snuggling with the dog, or watch T.V.   This doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate when The Royster comes home … quite the opposite.  I’m so glad when he comes home.  I don’t have to decide what to do.

Since I’ve been trained from infancy that every moment and every second wasted is a sin, and that I must fill my waking hours with something productive, or something that shows I’m worthy of living this life on this planet, or I am simply not worthy.  I guess that leaves out T.V. and reading (unless it’s the Bible).

                        God, let me do at least one kindness for at least one person today.

This morning was kicked off with a trip to the gym.  I make three workouts a week.  Fortunately, for me, this particular gym is where a number of women (only) of my ilk and peer group.  I feel very comfortable going there, and enjoy the company of women mostly my age.  It’s a really good workout (for me), and I make the circuit twice … and am done in 30 to 45 minutes.  After a brief stretch-out, I return to my truck, where there is a list of things I need to do before going home.  

I drive about 2 blocks in the general direction of home.  My first stop is the Beadahaulic to buy some pieces I need to finish a piece of jewelry I’m making.  Next stop is through Bubbles Car Wash to wash my truck, thus ensuring that it will rain in the afternoon. It worked.  After that, I’m nearly home, but for a brief trip through the drive-through at the bank.  They know me there, and send a dog biscuit for poor ol’ Hank.  Since Hank loves to accompany me to the bank, he’ll be really hacked that he didn’t get to go.  I will be thoroughly sniffed.  “Hah!  You went to the bank without me, didn’t you?”

One more stop at the grocery store for a couple of items, and then home. 

As I walked in the back door, my phone rang.  It was a friend that I hadn’t seen in a while.  We agree to meet at Starbucks … an equal distance from each our homes.  I put away the groceries, took a brief shower and put on clean capris', and  looked for a tee-shirt that didn’t have something emblazoned across the chest or back.  A nice pale green one that claimed nothing would have to do. 

As I drove three miles down the road to meet Hanna, I anticipated getting to visit in a public place with a friend, and the possibility that I wasn’t sure how to act.  I have bought at Starbucks many times before, mostly Iced Chi Tea, but, never to sit down and look like an intellectual in the throes of deep conversation.  But today, as I met Hanna, I went all out; no holds barred, and had a Macchiato, sparing no ingredient.  I certainly hope that we looked like intellectuals, because I pigged down that Macchiato in record time!  We probably didn’t sound much like intellectuals either, because we giggled, snorted and guffawed the entire two hours.  We had such a great time I wondered if I was in trouble for having so much fun.  We did attract some side glances from other people also trying to appear intellectual.

On the way home, I stop off to visit my mother in law who lives at an assisted living facility.  She’s having dinner with two other companions.  The four of us chatted pleasantly for the next 30 minutes.  I bid them farewell and made my departure for home and my Senior Citizen at home mode.

During that brief 2 hour intermission, I wondered if there was something at home I didn’t do or tend to, or left unattended?  The dog is enough of a guilt trip for me when I come home.  He wants to know “Where’ve you been? What do I smell on you … coffee and caramel?  Who’ve you been seeing?  And, why were you gone so long?  … and … “Never mind that I have to pee … where’s my treat?” 

Oh, my God!  His food dish is empty, and his water dish is low!  He may never forgive me!  But, I know better.  As soon as he does his business and comes back in the house, he’s my best friend again, snuggling and cuddling with me while we watch the news.  Well, he’s my best friend until his litter mate comes home.  You know … that guy that comes home in the big white thing with black tires.  As soon as The Royster drives up, The Hankster is barking to tell me that his new best friend is home.  Open the door!  Bark, bark, bark!   I open the door and The Royster enters …. More excited barking.  I relinquish Hank to his litter mate. 

I finally get back to the business of being at home, chopping eggs and vegetables for the tuna salad.  That having been done, I started on the bracelet that I bought pieces for.  As I thread the last gold piece on the end, I’m smiling and reviewing the fun I had with my friend at Starbucks; making a scene with loud storytelling and loud laughter … and, if possible grinning out loud; being a Senior Citizen, invading the usual crowd of Starbucks patrons.  That was just too much fun!  Yup!  I’m definitely going to do that again!  Watch for me, Starbucks.  I’ll be back!

NEW-FANGLED ELECTRONIC GADGETS AND DOO-DADS

I recall trying to get my aging parents interested in computers.  Dad took NO interest at all, and smiled indulgently before dropping into a gin and tonic induced snooze.   Mom didn’t really want to bother to learn it.  Though I tried to explain that she could have all of her files in a nice neat filing system in a computer, she still didn’t like anything about it.  I asked her to visualize her filing system in the computer as a bank of filing cabinets; each containing a subject, and further there would be sub-files under those headings.  I could see her head swimming.  “Mom, Everything can be contained neatly in this system without taking up any floor space.”  She really just wanted her old manual typewriter and a stack of typing paper.  I sighed deeply, and was acutely aware that I was wasting my time.  Though I failed to convince them of the conveniences of having a computer, I had mild success in interesting them in an E-Phone.  Though they were  interested, it was short-lived, in that they couldn’t get the hang of checking their e-messages from us.  So, they seldom answered any of our “e-mails”.   However, they did finally get the hang of cell phones.

That having been said, here we are in 2010; baby boomers that we are; installing the latest electronic technology into our homes, brains and well-beings.  God forbid if we should miss out on a message or information pertinent to our peace and well-being.  As of last week, we have yet another piece of the latest electronic equipment in our house.  The Royster bought himself a new 24” Sony Vaio touch screen computer.  It came in one box, and there were a total of four pieces; the monitor/computer, the wireless mouse, wireless keyboard, and a remote control, so that we could watch Blue Ray movies on this computer.  

We are babyboomers, and accept this advancement as another cross to bear.  Won’t we all be better off?  How did we ever live without all of these electronic gadgets?  Rotary telephones and televisions with big knobs for adjustments were the “modern technology” while I was growing up, unless you want to count dishwashers and garbage disposals modern technology for that era of 1948 through 1966.  After that, computers were just being introduced into businesses and not for private homes yet.

It is what it is!  What else can I say?  Change happens.  You either accept it, or you don’t.  In our case it’s happening over and over again.   We are now a wireless household, including phones, T.V.s and computers.  We each have cell phones (of course), iPods, and we each have our own wireless computers.  We both love music, though The Royster takes it to a new level.  He’s making sure that we have a mode of music for each computer, each room of the house, including the garage and the deck in the back yard and each vehicle.  Who woulda thunk it back in the 60’s, when we were proud of our 8 track tape players?

When we go into Fry’s, The Royster has to make a special promenade around the speaker section of the store.  He’s particularly impressed with the tiny little Bose speakers.  For the past twenty plus years, I have observed him drooling over electronic equipment.  I know that that if he touches the merchandise, he will fondle it, thereby ensuring that he will be buying it.   I suspect he’s secretly thinking of a way to make all the toilets in the house musical.  Sit down on the toilet seat and you trigger the toilet stereo.  Imagine, if you will, Bachman Turner Overdrive blaring out Taking Care of Business just as you sit down.

Since this last purchase of the Sony Vaio computer, things have been tense around here for sure.  From experience, I could guess this transition from the old computer upstairs would not go without a few traumatic glitches.  It’s never gone smoothly .  I guess the smoothest transition was when The Santa-Royster got me this wonderful Sony Vaio laptop for this past Christmas.

I digress.  The transferring of files from the old computer started out smoothly enough.  I knew to leave him alone, but be available to help if he asked for it.  The problems started when he started trying to install the programs that we use.  Quicken would NOT cooperate.  There was just no way.   After much scrapping, we found a phone contact number for tech help that he finally called.  The guy really wasn’t supposed to help him with this particular problem, as he was to pass it on to a more specialized person, uhh … for a fee.  But he did help, and very cheerfully at that.   The Royster was very pleased.

This process of transferring information continued on throughout the next few days….frustration after frustration.  I had been tempted to take him bottled water and a pillow, but fought that urge, knowing that it wouldn't be helpful.  The best thing for me to do was to leave him alone, and listen patiently to his laments.  Comments were not required, nor solicited … just listening. 

Last night, as soon as he came home from work, he trotted upstairs to install the final programs.  I left him alone until dinner was ready, and he reluctantly came down. He was pale and gaunt.  I could tell he’d been struggling.   As soon as dinner was over, he went back to his Computer Cave.  Hours went by, and I finally showered and got into bed.  I dozed, thinking he’d be down soon.  Sure enough he came down and almost in tears.  “I’ve ruined my new computer!  It's just ruined ... I just know it!”  Apparently, while installing a disk burning program, several programs and files just flat disappeared.  How totally devastating, to think that he would have to do it all over again, that is, IF the computer was not completely ruined.  I listened and told him that I didn’t think he had ruined his computer.  He was completely inconsolable.  His heart was breaking.  He went back to his Computer Cave to brood and fret.

Sure enough, just a little after 11 p.m. he came trotting in, almost glowing in the dark.  I woke with a start Oh, my Gawd!  He’s fixed it!  “I fixed it!”  He glowed.  What a relief.  I really wouldn’t have know what to say or where to hide if his brand new computer had truly been ruined.  I listened while he gave a gleeful blow-by-blow and step-by-step account of how he had fixed the ruined computer.  “I’m so happy, I could just shit!” he said.

I was so relieved that I would not be driving him to the hospital, that I almost completely forgot about the wireless Canon printer that he purchased the same day he bought the computer.  He’d still need to hook that up and install it in the newly saved wireless computer.  I didn’t have the heart to mention it.  Instead, I just let him expound on how he had saved the computer from total ruin, until he finally dropped off to sleep….still muttering with a smile on his face, “I fixed it!  I fixed it!  I fixed it!  I fixed……”

THE OLD BUCKET LIST

What An Excellent Idea!

  

NO, I am not on my death bed, or even ill.  I am not a morbid person; nor am I entertaining the notion that death is near.  No fear there.  Everyone knows that we start to die the moment we are born, if you want to look at it that way.  I prefer to see it as the beginning of a journey, and I see that I have quite a bit further to go.  We also know that  no one  knows when their number will be up, so I’ve decided to get serious about what should be accomplished in the years I have remaining.  I am not done YET.  I’ll say when I’m done.

Anyone, at any age can start a Bucket List, and the sooner the better.  That way you can get a head start on it and add to it.  I think it’s an excellent idea.  Certainly, everyone past the age of 50 should have a Bucket List, and update it frequently. I’m sure that I will be adding to my list as these notions occur to me.  So get your Big Chief Tablet and get busy.   

SO, here I am at 62, finally throwing down a Bucket List on cyber paper.  The thought occurred to me this morning after receiving a video from one of my cousins.  The video was of the rider and horse at the end of a bullfight.  I’m not an advocate of bullfighting at all, but this caught me off guard, as to the artistry, skill, grace and beauty of the rider and the horse (Caballero), and how the horse and rider were one.  It was beautiful.   This did not make me want to go to a bullfight.  On the contrary, I wanted to see the Royal Lipizzaner Stallions of Austria. I have never seen them in person.  That made me think of all the things I’d better put on my Bucket List.  I will not be numbering this list, as there is no particular order in which I must accomplish these “items”.

I am not interested in anything that will rush me to the end of my bucket list before I’ve really gotten a start on it.  Skydiving is out, as well as any kind of martial arts, bungee jumping, race cars, motorcycle stunts, or being a stunt person in a movie.  And, no, I will not be running with the bulls in Pamplona, Spain.

I won’t be getting neck rings, lip plates, body piercings or tattoos; nor will I be having any kind of cosmetic surgery.  I’ll make due with the many pots and jars that line my side of the bathroom sink. My take on that is try everything and never give up.  I figure if I take care of myself, I’ve got about 20 years to do this. 

Bearing all of this, and my list in mind, I will accept suggestions, and of course, invitations!  If I happen to do something spectacular that isn’t already on the list, or learn a new language or acquire a new skill in the process, then I will add it to my list as accomplished.  No, that’s not cheating.  I will get this list started, and then see how it compares to The Royster’s list.  This is going to be fun!  Let the journey continue!

Do a kindness for another every day

Clean out everything in the house, and pare down to “must keeps”.

Have a huge garage sale – Give the rest away

Move to a small community and get involved.

Get something published

See the Royal Lipizzaner Stallions

Maybe ride an elephant

Pan for Gold, and look for other treasures

River rafting

Hot Air Balloon Ride

Helicopter ride

Visit the Big Arizona Meteor Crater

Ride a Cable Car

Go on a Cruise

Visit Alaska and fish for salmon

Drive up the New England Coast line in the Fall

Visit all my family on both sides of the Mason Dixon Line

Camp out to see a meteor shower and/or a lunar eclipse.

Travel to at least one foreign country.

Take a month long “See America Trip” in a motor home.

Well, there it is.  It’s just a starter list, and subject to change, if only because I’m a woman, and I can do that.  Have a look at it and start your own list.  It’s okay to borrow ideas from someone else.  After all, no one has cornered the market on any of the above, and I could never tell anyone that it’s strictly MY list.  

When you’re done with your list I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.

I’ve always wanted to say that.

YOU'VE GOT TO KISS A LOT OF FROGS And Other Observations in Life

While sitting in a doctor’s office waiting room, I thumbed through a lap full of magazines that I had taken from a stack on the table. I was hoping that just one of them would distract me from the traditional waiting room boredom. I was not waiting to see the doctor, but The Royster was in seeing his dermatologist, and I had come along for the ride, and I guess moral support for the dreaded visit.

Back to the magazines. Most of them had at least one good article that drew me to scan through, so scan I did. All of them seemed to offer lessons in life fodder. The first one was a magazine geared to giving hints and generally good ideas for making life easier. Good! I’m at the age where I’m ready to simplify everything, and I’m all for changes that make things better.

I came across an article about lessons in life. The very first one was very compelling. It suggested that if a couple is having a dispute (mild or nasty), they should hold hands as they hash it out. This is supposed to make it impossible to yell or scream. Well! I guess not; not while you’re laughing your ass off, snorting and trying not to bust a gut laughing in the process. Imagine, if you will, holding hands while having a fight with your husband about leaving the toilet seat up. You went to the bathroom in the middle of the night in the dark, and plopped your rear end right into the toilet bowl water. That’s grounds for a forehead smack with a heavy, blunt object. I certainly can see how that could lead to hysterical laughing, as well as preventing you from finding a heavy, blunt object to smack him with.

Another magazine offered that you should “trust your first instinct”. Usually, your first inclination (answer) is on the mark. In my experience, it isn’t always the right answer, but I’ve always learned from that too. If you have to guess, you haven’t done your homework.

“Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.” This takes on real meaning when you’re learning to manage money. It means that if you buy lottery tickets, don’t go out and buy a new house, car or boat in anticipation of winning. Do not spend the money you expect to get back in your income tax return. It sure could back-fire. Being optimistic is good, but do consider the odds, and wait until you’ve actually won the lottery, or have that tax return in the bank. You just don’t go buying things until you have the where-with-all to do so.

I’ve often heard, “It’s right here in black and white.” My take on that is, read only the black part. Do not try to read the white part between the lines. There is nothing there, and you will go blind.

Voltaire said: “Animals have these advantages over man: they never hear the clock strike, they die without any idea of death, they have no theologians to instruct them, their last moments are not disturbed by unwelcome and unpleasant ceremonies, their funerals cost them nothing and no one starts lawsuits over their wills.”

Now, that’s really astute, and how very true. Perhaps we take our selves much too seriously. Take that as you will.

Ben Franklin said: “He that waits upon fortune is never sure of a dinner.”

My translation: Catch your own damn fish! Buy your own dinner!

And, one on worrying, “Just don’t. If there is nothing you can do about a bleak situation, do something else, and don’t waste your time fretting. In 24 to 72 hours, things will be different.” And that doesn’t promise things will be better; just different.

On doing the right thing. “If you don’t know the right thing to do, do the next right thing.” Someone is sure to tell you if it’s the wrong thing.

One of my own offerings is: “When you can forgive your parents for the way they raised you, you have finally reached a level of maturity, and can be considered grown up.”

Here’s an old one.: You've got to kiss a lot of frogs before you finally get your prince … or something like that. Well...Ain't it the truth?!  You will know when it’s the right frog. And, kissing him doesn’t make him a prince. And, furthermore, you can’t fix him.

And here’s another personal lesson I’ve learned.  “As you progress through the many passages in life, you should always leave the portals ajar just a little; just enough to peek back through.  No way should you actually go back, but you’ll want to see how far you’ve come in life.  You’ll see where you’ve been … where you came from.  If you can’t see where you came from, or the progress you’ve made, how are you going to know where you’re headed?”

Gandalf did not stand at the foot of my bed in the middle of the night and strike me wise.  I'm still working on the wisdom thing.  There are so many of these Life’s Lessons in magazines, on talk shows, and flying around on the internet.  A person could just pick and choose which ones they will pay any attention to.  Maybe that’s the problem.  If you haven’t learned them yet, then, perhaps you haven’t lived them …… yet.  And, YET is a very big word.

MUSINGS OF THE DAY

Some days I just feel as though I’m invisible. After thinking about that statement, I have decided it’s my own paranoia. And, wherever did that trait come from? The reality is that people have their own lives, and they don’t have to pay attention to, or even respond to me; and maybe that’s a good thing.

I’m also considering that today is a bit gloomy. We’ve just had a decent rain, for which I should be very grateful. The hibiscuses love it. The little yellow roses that I potted the other day are really responding well to the rain. It’s still cloudy and humid. The temp is a moderate 76 degrees, and it really looks like it could rain again. Hank is pacing, because he wants me to get up and do something to entertain him. He wants to play. At his age, it’s a miracle he can still retrieve the little toy that he so dearly loves. Other than that, it’s eerily quiet.

Quiet doesn’t bother me. I do not have to have background noises or loud music to fill in the blanks. On these days, I still feel that I’m either dead or invisible. Music helps me go somewhere else. I love it when my family of hawks are on the hunt in the “alley-way” between houses. I know they are signaling each other that there is something to be gained. But today, it just helps drown out the tinnitus.

I think that the quiet and the invisible status are leading me somewhere. This could be a big benefit to me. Being as spiritual as I am (and not in the “religious” sense), I could just say anything I want and move anywhere I want without being noticed. This could make it easy to take a walk on the wild side….mentally. There could be some surprises there; and maybe they’d be welcomed.

On the balmier side, I’m just in a funk. I feel as though no one hears me unless I fart. That’s a Baby-boomer term for “Things just aren’t quite right” (to put it mildly). This will be rectified later in the day, when my dog, (who loves me regardless) will acknowledge me as his best friend, and my very being will let me know that I am worthy of all the good that comes my way. Still later, my love will saunter in the door, and make my day “on the dark side” go away. I’ll be all good again. Why can’t I see that for myself from the beginning of these episodes? I know everyone has these days. How I wish someone would join me, so that we could laugh at our “Grand Funk”. After all … I’m not the only one, and only human at that. This too shall pass.

We Baby-Boomers have been through a number diagnoses and surgeries; not the least of which, have been major. This one was major. I’m pretty sure that most of my Baby-Boomer peers have been through this at least once or twice. However, I must put this down to see if any of them had similar experiences.

The days that led up to this surgery were crammed with several appointments for x-rays, blood labs, MRIs. CT scans, PET scans, and not to mention, arrangements for payment. These things accomplished there was nothing left but the pre-surgery exam by the anesthesiologist before the actual surgery.

So, moments before this major surgery, I was in a sort of stall, or for lack of a better description, an assembly line holding pen. Naked, with the exception of a print hospital gown and a poofy paper hat, designed to keep a patient’s hair covered for the surgery, and a pair of footies to keep the feet warm. According to previous hospital itemized statements, these items are very expensive.

There were patients on either side of me, and we were divided by mere curtains, giving the faintest illusion that there was privacy for the pre-surgery necessities and the meeting of our anesthesiologists. I heard conversations from both sides. On the left, the doctor asked someone, “How much do you weigh?” A woman’s voice answered, “Last night I weighed 250 lbs., but I’m sure I’ve lost some since then.” On the right a man asked a nurse for a bed pan to sit on, and something to ease the pain of his hemorrhoids. So much for pre-surgery privacy.

Nurses buzzed in and out, hooking me up to pre-surgery drugs, and offering pleasant conversation to put the patient at ease.

“Hi! I’m Nancy. I’ll be your nurse while you’re here in prep. Are you in any pain? Can you show me on this chart how bad your pain is?”

Okay…..Where is my clicker, so that I can click Nurse Nancy off?   Instead of hurting her feelings about her monologue, I say: “I don’t have pain, but I do have anxiety about having a tracheotomy and then being flipped over to have half a lung removed.” Nurse Nancy looks at me questioningly. “Can you show me on this chart just how bad your anxiety is?” Well, if this is just taking it to the Nth. She’s really taking it to the hilt trying to take care of me. “Yes, it’s number 3….the worst. What are you going to do about it?” Nurse Nancy smiled, and said….. “That’s coming right up! Here, we’ll just inject this into your drip, and open up this valve! There! Feel better?” Just then the anesthesiologist popped in. “Any questions for me?” He asked. “I don’t know. Who are you?” He sobered up his smiling routine enough to answer, “I’m the anesthesiologist!”   I said,  “Well in that case, I guess not."   I was gone!……….ZONK!!!!!!!

The next thing I remember, about an hour later, I was sitting up on a gurney, and a nurse was removing my hospital gown, and hooking me up to a lot of monitors. I looked around and saw that I must have been the star attraction in a surgery theater. There was a balcony, of sorts, and there had to have been about eight or ten doctors and nurses staring down at my nakedness. The anesthesiologist appeared and reintroduced himself. “In just a few seconds, you’ll be in ‘Happy Land’.” I Looked him straight in the eye and was armed and ready with a really smart-ass reply, which, for the moment, I had forgotten. He grinned and said, “Ready?” I said, “Well…if you must……uhhhhhh!” Dang! I really had a monumental statement to make, and all of it went away……. And that’s all I remember until about 7.5 hours later. I was again sitting on the gurney, naked.   Nurses and doctors were removing all the monitors from various parts of my body. I started helping. “Here! You missed one!” I heard one male voice say, “Hey! She’s supposed to be out!” A female voice countered, “She won’t remember a thing! Try to keep her from grabbing stuff.”

Well, in spite of the “Milk of Amnesia” that I had been given, I do remember a heck of a lot. There was much to follow that surgery, and I ‘m sure I’m not alone in that either. It just seems to go with the age; that age where your parts start to wear out like a beloved car you’ve had for so many years. You know you can’t really buy a new one, and so you just make the old faithful one work a little longer. She’s serviced me well, and they don’t make ‘em the way they used to. I'm going to keep her around for a lot longer!

THINGS I SAW TODAY

Being aware that I see hundreds of “things” every day, and knowing to check my rear view and side view mirrors for safety’s sake isn’t enough.  We see things such as animals and people and personal dramas taking place.  But, do we really see them?  Are we so busy, and/or mentally absorbed in our daily missions that we don’t really see what’s actually taking place?  I’ve made it my mission to really pay attention to things I see during the course of a single day.

I saw things today that made me sad, that made me wonder, that made me angry, that made my heart sing, that made me laugh, that made me feel happy and glad to be me.

Today, while driving out of our subdivision, I saw a hawk swoop across the road and perch at the top of a dead pine tree to hunt for field mice.  I saw a coyote patiently waiting to cross the road. She was actually looking both ways and eying the subdivision on the other side. I wondered if she was going to shop in garbage cans for food for her pups.  More likely, she was headed for the field across the road to hunt with the hawk.

Today while driving towards a main road, I signaled to change lanes.  The car coming up in the lane I wanted to get in then sped up to make it impossible for me to change lanes.  What’s up with that?  It really pisses me off that when you signal; someone is going to, in effect say, NO!  NO ONE gets in front of ME!  I think it’s a genetic flaw for me to want to scream obscenities at discourteous drivers, and even flip them off.  Fortunately, I never really took that up, though many times I’ve been tempted.  Down here, though, it could get you run off the road, or even shot.

Today, while driving to the gym, I saw a man standing on a median with a sign.  He had but one leg, and his sign read, “Can’t find work.  Please help!”   I wondered what happened to that man's leg as I got out of my truck to go work out in the gym.  I counted myself fortunate to have both of my legs.

Today, while standing in line at the grocery store, I saw a cashier near tears; yet still being friendly to customers.  I felt as if I known her personally for years.  So, when my turn came to check out, I asked her what was wrong.  She said that her son is in the Marines, and was supposed to come home this week on leave.  She just got a call from him.  He told her that he just got new orders and that he would not get to come from the Middle East for another six months to a year.  I know if I was in her spot, I probably wouldn't be so brave.  My heart broke for her.

Today, while shopping for landscape supplies at the local Garden Center, I was standing in front of 40 lb. bags of pea-gravel wondering how I was going to load it on a dolly by myself.  Ten years ago, I wouldn't even have wondered.  I would have just done it.  A young employee walked up and asked me which gravel I was considering, and how many bags; and did I need some help? I told him which one and how many (12 bags).  He didn't bat an eye, but loaded the 12 bags of gravel on the dolly; and before I could ask if he'd help me get it to the register, he started pulling the dolly.  He not only stayed with me through the line, but took it out to my truck and loaded it.  I thanked him profusely, and he said, “That’s what I’m here for, ma’am.”  I smiled at the young whipper-snapper as he opened my truck door for me.  That just made my heart sing.

Today, while I was loading my groceries into my truck, I saw a grocery store employee replacing trash can liners in the trash receptacles out in the parking lot.  She appeared to be a woman around 35 or 40 years old, of ethnic origin, and possibly a newly immigrated to this country.  Much to my horror, she fished a McDonald’s bag out of a trash can and found a half eaten hamburger.  The woman sat down and started eating it as if it was a prime rib dinner.  I thought about the groceries that I'd just bought and counted myself lucky once more.

Today, while picking up a prescription at the local CVS store, I saw a little girl about 4 years old clutching her hands together.  Her hands were dripping with what appeared to be lotion.  Her mother was further down the aisle.  I asked the little girl if she just got too much lotion.  She timidly nodded, and I asked her if she would share some of the lotion with me.  She held out her little hands to share the lotion.  As I was slathering my own hands with the wonderful smelling lotion, her mother came up and said, "Oh! No!  That's not lotion!  It's liquid soap!" Thank goodness for the new canister of wipes in my basket.  I cleaned as much of the soap off both our hands as I could while her mother and I laughed.  Good thing I was close to home.  I'd tried to do a good deed, and it back-fired ..... a little.  But I got a great deal of humor out of it, and I laughed all the way home.

While driving home today, I saw two female Mallard ducks waddling down the sidewalk on Cypresswood Drive.  They were headed for the creek.  They had about12 yellow spotted babies in tow.   I wanted to stop to look and take pictures, but there was too much traffic, and nowhere to park.  How fortunate for me to see things like this in our suburban area.

On the way home I thought of all the things I had seen, and felt happy that I could see, that I could walk, that I have food, clothing and shelter and a vehicle to drive.  Grateful that I can make decisions for myself, and that my loved ones are all on this continent.  My own limitations are not severe.  My pain is not monumental, just a minor uncomfortable inconvenience.  It was then that I realized that all of this could change in an instant, and was even more grateful for the life I have today.  I’ll be watching again tomorrow to really see what’s going on in my every day world on any given day.  What did you see today?

QUEEN OF THE BINGO PARLOR

 

We were driving down 1960 East, towards Humble, as we do sometimes to go visit friends or meet them for dinner.  I always look to see if the old bingo place is still there, and it is and probably will always be.  I’m not an avid bingo player, but at one time, a friend of ours talked us into playing a few times.  The Royster went with us once.  We bought our daubers and cards and took our places at the table with our friend.

It’s huge!  And, they are very serious bingo players.  As you walk in, and to the left is where you buy your bingo cards and daubers.  As we stood in line, I observed several very serious bingo players in line ahead of us.  They were buying several cards to play at one time.  Some had their big tote bags of bingo equipment.  This means their daubers, their snacks and whatever else they would need to endure a grueling day at the bingo parlor.  These are the serious ones.  They were from all walks of life…men and women, young and old.  I did happen to see some stereotypical bingo players; the kind one imagines when the term bingo parlor is uttered.  There truly were a couple of those, and I would hesitate to stand in their way or cross them in any way.  You’d want to wait until they find their seat before sitting down.  No, you wouldn’t want to take their usual seat, and probably not even close enough to get smacked with a dauber in a frenzy of bingo card daubing.

I will attempt to describe one lady that I encountered.  She was of large stature, wearing a red, green and yellow floral Mu’u Mu’u with red flip-flops to match.  She wore red horn-rimmed glasses.   Her fresh make-up was well done.  Eye shadow was a beautiful bright blue, with lipstick to match her red horn-rims.  She had just had her roots done, and her bleached blond tresses were in a Texas size mass of individual curls, in a doo on top of her head.  She had just had her nails painted bright red, with a pedicure to match.  Her tote bag matched her dress exactly, and I’d bet dollars to donuts that she had at least six other Mu’u Mu’us at home with totes to match; along with matching flip-flops.   She wore big red hoop earrings, and a set of red, yellow and green bangle bracelets to set everything else off.

I stepped back and waited for her to take her seat.  I noticed that no one took a seat directly across from her or on either side.  She gingerly took her seat, and carefully sat her tote in the chair to her right.  I was surprised when an adorable miniature poodle popped its head out of the tote.  She arranged 20 bingo cards just so on the table in front of her and fished in the bag until she came up with two daubers, one pink and one blue.  She took out a gold lame cigarette case and fished out a long cigarette and lit it. She put the cigarette case in place, just so, on her right next to the ash tray.  The little poodle hopped out of her tote and sat expectantly in her lap.  She was ready.  She had to be the Bingo Queen of North East Houston.   I was in awe and could not take my eyes off of her.

The Bingo Caller announced 5 minutes until game time.   Bingo Queen took an icy cold Pibb out of her tote, opened it and took three dainty gulps while she watched the clock.  We sat just a table away and in front of her.  My friend, Veronica nudged me, and told me that I’d better get my three cards and dauber ready.  I complied by putting the cards side by side and getting my blue dauber situated just so on my right.

 

The big clock above the stage read exactly 7 o’clock, and the Bingo Caller called out, “Let’s play BINGO!”  The first ball rolled out.   “I-16!” she called.  There was loud smattering of daubers hitting bingo cards.  By that time I’d found one I-16, I was ecstatic, and started looking for another.  Everyone else was finished daubing.  There were no more on any of my three cards.  The next ball rolled out, and the Caller hollered, “G-47!”   Thwap! Smack! Pow!   Daubers were flying!  I looked, and didn’t have one.  This went on until I saw that I actually just needed one more number to Bingo!  There was hope.  The ball rolled down and …”N-42!”   I did a double take.  I actually had it!  I smacked my blue dauber on my G-47 and before I could raise my hand and yell out “Bingo”, I heard it from  Bingo Queen.  It was a loud, but casual, raspy cigarette voice … “BINGO”  Her little poodle seemed to know, and yapped an acknowledgement.  So went the first round. 

I bought three more cards and returned to my seat next to Veronica, who had already gotten her fresh bingo cards in order.  I needed to be faster.  Bingo Queen was all set and munching on a king size Snicker’s Bar.  She saw me and nodded with a wry smile.  I must have been staring.  So went my night at the Bingo Parlor; almost winning with each game, but not quite.  Bingo Queen won three times.  How could that happen?

 

I will have to say that I had never encountered quite an event before in my life.  It was really a lot of fun.  My friend, Veronica asked me if I’d go with her again.  Of course I would.  She goes three nights a week, but I only committed to two more times.   I dare say that the next two Bingo nights were almost exactly like the first one … almost winning, but not quite … or I wasn’t fast enough.  Veronica won twice, and one of them was the grand prize of the night.  


We went out to celebrate at Sonic.  As we sat there eating cheeseburgers that dripped down our arms, we talked.  She wanted to know if I’d go again the next week.  I sighed and told her that, alas, Bingo just isn’t in my blood.  I did save my daubers for a few years, just in case I wanted to go back.  Later, I tossed them, fairly new, into a donation bag.

Yup!  I’d play again, but I just couldn’t be a regular … not with competition like The Bingo Queen of North East Houston.

HAIR, AND OTHER RITES OF SPRING

Spring is a big deal for all of us.  It marks the occasion of coming out of a winter confinement of dark, cold, cloudy, rainy, snowy days.  No matter where you live, winter is brutal to all of us in one way or another.  So, we are all ready for warmer weather, and the fun that accompanies it.

My first spring awakening this year was when I looked in the mirror and decided that I had actually been giving my hair one last hoorah.  It was actually past my shoulders, and starting to give me the creeps.  I can truly say that I was doing this (growing it out) for myself as much as for the Royster, who would love me to have that big mass of hair that I had when we met 20+ years ago.  He loved the Farrah tresses or the (Dare I go that far back?) Annette Funicello big hair.  I wanted to see how my black and silver hair would look long.  Every time I looked in the mirror, I was hearing this song:

Gimme head with hair
Long beautiful hair
Shining, gleaming,
Streaming, flaxen, waxen

Give me down to there hair
Shoulder length or longer
Here baby, there mama
Everywhere daddy daddy

Hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair, hair
Flow it, show it
Long as God can grow it
My haaaaiiiiirrrrr!

I just needed a trim, and right now!  Later, as it warms up, I’ll decide if I can stand it any longer or not.  It probably depends on if I feel as though down here in the Houston area I can keep the humidity and heat and the threat of fungus at bay.  Pony tail?  Oh, come on!  Clip?  I don’t know how to do it so it stays.  Besides, I want it all up there.  No trailers allowed. I just don’t know what to do with all of this.  So far, I’ve controlled it with hair bands, but lately the hair bands aren’t strong enough.  I guess you’d call it heavy hair.  Why didn’t it bother me in my younger years?  I’m sure that when I go visit my daughter and her entourage, the girls will show me what to do with it.  In the meantime, I had two inches cut off, and it’s still brushing my shoulders. 

We’ll see.  If I can’t stand it when it starts to heat up, I’ll go get my hair cut before it just drives me insane; maybe just to the jaw line.  That’s usually a safe length. I’m good with that unless I’ve waited too long.  Then I go tearing into the hair salon screaming, “Just take it all off!”  To tell you the truth, I really liked being bald.  Chemo left me without a single hair on my body.   I drew on eyebrows and wore a wig to work, but doffed it before the end of each day.  I was very tempted to just drop it in the trash can.  It was hot, and made my whole head itch.  After a while, I just wore a baseball cap or a fashionably wrapped scarf.  The baseball cap was always my first choice.  I got used to it, and actually considered keeping it that way.  The Royster was a bit nervous about that, and wanted to know how long I had to have it that way.  Sigh……. That’s when I quit shaving it.  I still have the wig....but I'm not sure exactly why.

The next spring inclination would be getting the old spring wardrobe back into shape.  New shoes come to mind first, along with some appropriate clothes to match.  We go to an annual party to kick off the spring.  It’s a little fancy schmancy, but I really enjoy dressing for this occasion.  It’s a lot of fun. It's a big switch from my jeans and tee's that I wear every day.  

I went to my favorite department store to shop for something new to wear to this event.  Usually, regardless of department (Jr. or Misses), the shirts are cropped short, to show some belly, and possibly a pierced belly button.  Those blouses usually to go with very hip-slung pants.  Honestly, the zipper in those can’t be more than an inch long.  They must have 25 year old bone heads to design clothes for mature women.  That kind of stuff is just a night mare for me, and I’m sure to other women my age, unless your 62 and still support the same body you had at 20 or 30.  I mean, what am I supposed to do with those?  Just hang all of my stuff over the top?  I’m sure you've seen more than a few overweight women / girls wearing (abusing) hip-slung pants with the crop tops, exposing a huge muffin top, a piercing and / or a tattoo or two. I mean...It's just not right...It's just totally wrong!   I actually put together two different outfits, and since it was so hard to decide, I bought both outfits so that the Royster could help me decide. 

On the way home, I popped in to my favorite nail salon.  I needed  a really thorough mani-pedi.  I rolled up my jeans a dropped my flip flops next to the chair.  The girls that were attending my needs were chatting back and forth in Viet Namese, and I am sure, deciding how much extra to charge me for all the extra work they would have to do.  It was then that I became painfully aware that I had forgotten to shave my legs, for I don’t know how long.  I sat back and relaxed.  Just let them do their magic, and enjoy it.

Yesterday, I went back to my favorite place, Kohl’s, to look for shoes.  There were a couple of other women my age there.  We chatted like magpies and compared and encouraged each other.  That makes shopping enjoyable…to have someone with you.  Since I was alone, as I usually am, these two made my day.  We had some pretty good laughs.  I found two pairs of sandles that I liked, and they were very reasonably priced.  Again, since I couldn’t decide, I got both pair, and then headed over to the check out.  

The line was very long, so I headed over to the other side of the store for the other check out.  It was less crowded.  On my way, I wandered through the Jr. Dept., thinking that was a safe maneuver because I can no longer find anything over there that fits, let alone fashion for my acquired maturity.  HARK!  I spotted some really cool cotton shirt/blouses.  They were various colors of plaid…roll up sleeves.  One of the things that drew me over was the fact that they were long enough.   They were really beautiful, and marked down from $40 to $14.  I had to have two….one in the turquoise and black, and one in pink and black.  I needed a couple of blouses to wear next week to Arizona.   Well?!   They were on sale!  And, I do consider that shopping trip very successful, considering the fact that I just don’t like to shop.  Guess I didn’t inherit that shopping gene.

Everything seems to be falling into place.  Our yard is groomed and trying to recover from the freezes we had.  I’m all but dressed for the spring event for this Saturday.  My trip to Arizona is planned and airfare ready to go.  All I have to do is pack.  Its all looking good!  Poor ol’ Hank needs to be deloused and have a canine pedicure.  He’s been rolling in the mulch that we had put out last week-end.  I don’t suppose I’ll ever get used to that smell (the mulch) or the smell that an old wet dog brings….But it’s all part of the beginning of spring and the season for getting out and having some fun.  I'm ready!  BRING IT ON!  

IN THE DEPTHS OF MY KNOW-IT-ALL

Everyone has a know-it-all. It's something very deep down in our psyches.  The psyche is the totality of the human mind, conscious and unconscious.

I had decided to read a little after lunch, and found the warm spot by the window very comforting and inviting.  So, I put my book down and closed my eyes.   I was being called into the depths to discover something new. In this instance, I simply drifted off into some level of sleep that allowed me to … well, for lack of a better description, dream-walk. This is where there is a very vivid dream, though you are aware that you are in a very personal mental state. A very curious state of sleep, I might add.

This is the place where I go to think deeply, to meditate; in the place that holds all that I need to know, as well as the place that mends all sorrow. I rarely get to go there, because it takes so damn long to get there. I have to have complete silence, with the exception of natural quiet sounds of nature, or just the right soft music playing in the background. Actually, these conditional sounds in the background help to stimulate ideas and answers as well as good feeling and mirth. Unless proper conditions prevail, I only get to the day-dream stage. But, something shook me from the depths of my Know-It-All.

It was actually snowing! Snowflakes were making a rare appearance in our semi tropical to tropical zone. The sound was truly deafening, because it is simply such a magical sound that it’s almost thunderous. And, people who have never experienced snow have no idea what I’m talking about.

Though I was born in New York, and lived in St. Louis when I was very young, the first time I truly remember seeing and hearing snow fall was in Fort Worth, Texas. I ran straight out into the back yard and sat quietly in the middle of the falling snow, listening, getting enrapt in the enormous quietness and peace. I felt no cold at all, and almost instantly, I descended into my place of meditation, understanding and enlightenment.

People in northern climates experience the magic of snow at Christmas time, until delight becomes drudgery with days of shoveling snow, digging out cars, trudging through mud and muck, and being house-bound for days on end. For them, the magic is more than likely gone, and I truly understand how they can tire of the snow. There is indeed reason to celebrate spring. Still, I welcome the magic that snow falling brings at any time. I will also say that more poetry has been written romantically about snow than you can imagine.

There are many roads that will take me to the place I call my Know-it All, where I find the answers and inspiration for living, learning, loving and creating. To many people this is called meditation, and rightly so. Meditation to me is listening to God, or powers of a much higher dimension. Sometimes, I can get there by toiling in the yard, digging, weeding, raking, bagging, dragging and sweeping. I simply go off somewhere else and leave my physical self to the task. I’m in good company way off … somewhere else.

But, I’ve wandered away from the basis for this little dissertation. It’s all about moments of clarity. This is complicated, simply because for me, it’s hard to really understand exactly how these moments of clarity come about. What makes them clear to me? These moments of clarity are times when I can get a brief glimpse of the truth. The kind of truth that a person gets when they are least expecting it. It’s suddenly there for you, and you have to grab hold of it right then and there, because it might not ever pass through your Know-It-All again.

I suppose an example is required here. Sometimes, my Know-It-All surfaces in a waking moment. Someone close emotionally is talking to me, and I know they are sad and upset. Suddenly, I know exactly why they are sad, even if they don’t really know the real reason yet themselves. It’s not because I am any smarter or wiser, but simply because it’s just there for me to see, and to understand. No need to say anything at all, just understand. I’m also guessing that other people will see things in me that I don’t see yet, because I’m too busy in the feeling itself, and not into the true reasoning.

Sometimes, when you just have a feeling about something, or squint your eyes and really see something for the first time, though you’ve seen it every day; those are also moments of clarity. Sometimes it’s just hearing a subtle word or phrase; and sometimes, it’s something someone (maybe a perfect stranger) says to you that hits you in the face like an iron skillet. Now, that’s a moment of clarity.

I’ve asked several friends about this, and they have convinced me that I’m not just blowing sun-shine up anyone’s skirt. Every one of them they had said with conviction that they absolutely have these fleeting glimpses of truth. Having just a glimpse of this always makes me want to dive back into my Know-It-All for more.

Today, I will go out to start clearing out plants damaged in the winter freezes and trim up and try to save the damaged plants, making room for new growth. If left to my own resources for any length of time, I will go into my Know-It-All for more glimpses of truth and enlightenment. Before I know it, the tasks I set out to do will have been completed, and I will have been off to visit my Know-It-All once again to emerge with a clarity I didn’t know I could have. This is going to be great!

BOYS AND THEIR CHRISTMAS TOYS

All of the Christmas adornments are taken down and moved up stairs to await their placement in the “Christmas Closet”. This will take the better part of another month to sort through. But I don’t want to talk about that right now, since it’s something I’m procrastinating about….again.

What’s on my mind right now is how wonderfully successful a particular gift was for our Christmas of 2009. I have always known that whenever I’m in doubt as to what to get The Royster for Christmas, I can always go to Sears and pick out some kind of woodworking tool that I know he doesn’t have, and I am very familiar with all the woodworking tools in the garage, because that’s what I’ve been getting him over the past 20 years. I learned right off the bat that Sears is always a safe bet.

This year, I was in a bit of a quandary as to what to get The Royster, even though I was standing in Sears looking at all the wonderful plug-in, buzzing, whirring and grinding Roy Candy, just to get some idea as to what to put under the Christmas tree for him. As my eyes darted around the store they came to rest on a scroll saw; and it dawned on me that a few years ago The Royster would walk over to this particular item and touch it, caress it longingly and drool a little. That was the year that I had already purchased a drill press to put under the tree, so I just forgot about the loving gazes he was bestowing on the scroll saw. When I saw it this year, actually calling to me to have a look, I knew that was the item I would purchase for my hero The Royster, “… while visions of power tools danced in his head...” Try, to imagine the delight on a 58 year old little boy’s face when he opened his new toys on Christmas morning.

I was on target with this gift. The Royster almost hopped up and down clapping his hands with glee, and whooping, “Oh! Goody goody! A scroll saw! A scroll saw!” After a couple of days passed, he had it all set up out in the garage. I could hear the gears turning in his head; ideas of what he was going to make with his new garage toy. As the days passed, there were all kinds of trips to Home Depot and Sears, and lots of noises emanating from the garage; all happy noises. Whirrrrrrrrrr! Buzzzzzzzzzz! Zingggggggg! Grrrrrrrrind, grrrrrrrrind, grrrrrrrrrrrrind! And, sand, sand, sand! There would possibly be refrigerator art and endless show ‘n’ tells forthcoming.

The man-boy has a gift, a real talent for making things out of wood, and furthermore, he loves to do it. I do enjoy seeing him have so much fun out in the garage. He’s made me so many cool things, from a gardening workbench to a recipe book holder for the kitchen counter. He never ceases to amaze me, and he always surprises me.
For his first endeavors with his new scroll saw, he created a number of small, trial things.

The stained glass peace sign was his first deliberate work of art. With the others, he just started zipping away at pieces of wood to get a feel of his new toy. It was sort of like when you see things in the clouds, a cat, dog, etc. He would come in and proudly show me what he’d made.


If he didn’t know what he was trying to make at the time, it somehow took shape ….If it looked like a duck, he called it a duck. We still don’t know what to call the little guy that looks like he’s holding something over his head. Maybe we’ll just call him Atlas. He did photo puzzles with photos on either side, one in color, the other in black and white. Unfortunately he did not take pictures of those before he gave them as gifts to friends, with their very own photos on them.


Last week, he showed me a picture of a 1930 Chevy pickup truck, and disappeared into the depths of his Man Cave. Over the week-end he spent every waking hour in there making something really special. Late on Sunday afternoon, I could smell the distinct odor of wood stain, and I knew that soon there would be a finished product that he would proudly present to me, possibly to display, on the kitchen table or better, in the window of the kitchen for all to see. Finally, on Sunday evening, he emerged with the finished product. He had out-done himself again!


Who knows what lurks in the Man Cave depths that won’t some day be uncovered as a monumental work of art.