FOOD PORN AND SPANX

FOOD PORN AND SPANX

Roy finally retired a little over a year ago.  We've always loved our road trips, and have taken many.  But, when he retired we doubled our time on the road with his retirement agenda, which is photography.  He bought me a wonderful little Canon with automatic as well as manual capabilities.  I’m having a ball with it, but I don’t have the patience to mess with anything more complicated.  My gifts lie right here with my writing, and whatever “project” I have going at the time.  Right now, it’s beading, and that’s subject to change.

Our travels have taken us to new levels of dining.  With Facebook, it’s taken on a new dimension.  I realize that one only need post a phone photo of food to start a firestorm of Food Porn on FB, and I am loving it!  How much fun is that?  With our traveling, the menus and venues are so diverse that it’s imperative that I share it with my friends and family.  I love the responses of online recipes and drooling.  WHAT – A – HOOT!  I automatically “share” these recipes just so they will show up on my timeline/personal page……just in case I want to make them.  Be assured I’ll do the cream cheese cherries and coca cola cake recipes.  Come on!  Bring ‘em!

This brings me to the reasoning of body image vs. Food Porn.  I've been pretty good about keeping my weight down to a reasonable weight for my 5’9” frame of 65 years old.  NO, I will not tell you what that is, but be assured; it hasn't varied much over the past 5 years one way or the other.  Here’s the thing………..It just relocates.  Annnnnnddd, the cottage cheese effect remains wherever it relocates. It never leaves from my thighs.  I used to find this very distressful; however, I’ve finally started accepting the fact that I’m 65, and (though inside I am still 26 years old), my body is going to do this with, or without my permission or my efforts to keep it down to my 26 year old weight and shape. That’s just not going to happen.

Which then brings me to this………..I finally caved in and bought some SPANX.  After having watched all of the female news people stand or sit in front of the camera, I've wondered how they can stand there in those tight little dresses and skirts without first smoothing everything out with the SPANX.  I know that they cannot all have these sleek lines naturally. 

The price tags are still on them (2 pieces), but I’m going to use them first to sort through my closet to see what I can squeeze into, and what is absolutely out of the question, EVER!  At least I can contain all of this stuff in a tighter “skin”.  There will be no mirror in front of me while I struggle into the revered SPANX.

Soooooo……I’m going to venture into trying on this new “skin”; but I need some encouragement.  Maybe I’ll step on the scales…….haven’t done that in a couple of months.  That should be some incentive.  Maybe I should talk to someone (my age) who’s successfully ventured into the SPANX world.  But FIRST, I’m going for a Mani-pedi just to get me started.  That should at least make me feel better about getting on the scales.

And….by the way.  I’m making that coca cola cake tomorrow!

OH, THE THINGS WE'VE SEEN, THE THINGS WE'VE DONE...

Our retirement has taken us in so many directions.  Royster has chosen photography as his retirement occupation. He's really serious with it, and has even given up his beloved 28 year old Harley Davidson to take on this love for photography.  He has an eye for a good picture, and takes some excellent photos.  Royster bought me a really nice little camera that has both manual and automatic settings to mess with, so that I can join him in this venture.  I'm really happy with it, as it takes excellent pictures, and, thankfully, not too many buttons  to do too much to get the picture I want.  I like to snap pictures of things that aren't likely to run away quickly.  And, for the record, these photos are mine! 

For the past year, we've taken on a "See America First" tour.  Admittedly, we've dipped into Canada to see what's there.  It's been totally worth it, as there is some of the most beautiful, unspoiled country up there that I've ever seen.  Though in September, the weather on Vancouver Island, B.C. was pretty nippy.  We were able to go on a bear tour to photograph bears, eagles, dolphins and whales.  We were not disappointed at all on any account.  We also stayed in a cabin at Tofino on Vancouver Island.  I was intrigued with the whole thing. It was all so beautiful.  The beaches were pristine, and there were things I'd never seen down here on the Gulf Coast. In the mornings, I'd don a coat, flip-flops and grab my camera to take pictures of tidal pools.  There were lots of sea anemones, starfish and muscles.  There were gulls, crows and ravens that had no fear of humans.  We did witness crows and ravens take advantage of a picnic basket that had been left for a brief time while the owners explored the beach.  What a huge mess the birds had left.  I have to chuckle at the birds, after witnessing what humans leave behind along the roadsides.

Also, in the past year, we've been from coast to coast; and it never ceases to amaze me that there is so much we take for granted ... things we just don't see on a day-to-day basis.  On our last trip, we "cut a circle" from South Dakota, Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico.  We've been there before, but we always see things we haven't seen before.  In every place we've been. I've always encountered the beautiful Ravens.  At Bryce and Zion, they've followed me around from station to station to get the crackers that I carry in my pockets; clearing the parking lots by pecking at fenders and bumpers of cars that had just pulled up.  As fierce as they look, they gently take the crackers from my fingers.  They will call  from 80' up on a dead tree to talk.  All a person has to do is answer them.  They will talk...tell all.  I feel very drawn to these beautiful avian creatures.

As we drove through the Tetons and Yellowstone, there were the beautiful elk and buffalo.  We bowed to their right of way.  Everyone should see this.  Again, this is stuff you just don't see while sitting at your computer, or at your local mall.

On one afternoon, we were blessed with buffalo commandeering the road.  We bowed to their  strength and ownership of the space.

I think we'll be heading east on our next tirp...or will we?  We'll be talking about this through Thanksgiving.  We've been east before, but there is a lot we haven;t seen....Maybe the upper east coast will hold more discoveries in the spring.

Between the two of us, we've taken thousands of pictures.  Some of the best are the wild life photos, but there are also candid shots of people, and the joy they experience daily.  I'll have to post some of those too.  In the mean time.  We're planning our next adventure.   

Television originally started out as a means of entertainment, and quickly developed into “entertainment with sponsors to pay for the air time”.  There was Annie Oakley telling us all about Wonder Bread with the red, yellow and blue balloons on the wrapper.  There was, “N-E-S-T-L-E-S….Nestle’s makes the verrry best, Chooooocolate!” Those ads prevailed, but they never interrupted the program too many times for very long.

However, I just saw several ads in a row that are aimed at people to make them unhappy with themselves, or to scare them in order to sell a product.  If you drink juices or sodas, your teeth enamel will soften and wear away, the ad tells you to buy a certain toothpaste to “prevent this”, if you must drink juice or soda.  Another ad showed a woman with spots on her skin…obviously altered in by the magic of photo-shop technology.  The kicker is that she was holding a Dalmatian puppy, to accentuate the dreaded “spotty skin”.  These ads start working on women as early as the age of 25 about their wrinkled skin.  Another ad brags that it can cover up your unsightly grey hair.  I have seen an ad that uses alligator images to promote skin moisturizers.  Yet another ad was simply the capper on my day.  ARE YOU PLAGUED WITH FEMININE ODOR?  Fine!  So, I have unsightly spotty skin….grey hair, and unwanted feminine odor.  I should be totally unlovable and must run out to buy all the products that will make me more desirable and lovable.

Since TV ads run about 9 min. for every three minutes of actual programming, television is no longer for our entertainment and/or education.   It’s all about how many sponsors will pay how much to place an ad that will draw consumers in.   There are the ads for drugs that include disclaimers that are longer than the ads for the product themselves. These ads claim to put you to sleep, wake you up, clear up your depression, sinuses, acne, give prolonged sexually activity, and/or fix your leaky bladder.  On the downside, these disclaimers say that you should be aware that any one of these products could cause symptoms that might give you unwanted brain tumors, unwanted facial hair, sleep walking / driving, and discomfort after more than 4 hours, tendencies to suicide, farts, fits and freckles, and possibly death.  What could the FDA be thinking to approve all of that crap?!!  Oh! …There it is … MONEY.  It’s marketing smoke and mirrors aimed at getting you to part with your money.  Obviously, they convince some people that they NEED this crap.

It used to be that doctors, lawyers and pharmaceuticals (besides Alka-Seltzer, Pepto-Bismol, Milk of Magnesia and Bayer Aspirin could not advertise on TV.  When the law was passed ; and I don’t know exactly when that sneaked up on us, it opened up a huge can of worms….or a Pandora’s Box.  The ambulance chasers just grind my teeth, and media that reports crazy claims…..”Coffee is bad for you!”….”No!  Coffee is safe now!”…. “No!  Coffee is GOOD for you,”  Some of the hysteria attempts are just downright hysterical!  One woman declares that the shape of hot dogs and bananas should be changed because 2 year olds can choke on them.  What about pickles?  What about using common sense when feeding your 2 year old?

Since we live in a country that allows Americans to sue anyone for anything, everyone seems to have to cover their assets.  Nothing is advertised that there isn’t a disclaimer included, or a long list of exceptions to the rule.

The food industry is totally busted on this smoke and mirrors advertising.  Everything is processed so much that there is little nutrition left in anything.  They aim and promote the unhealthiest foods at children.  Everything that they want you to buy is placed strategically at eye level, and they even psychologically map out your path through the store, so that, If you don’t know any better than to just go for what you have on your list, they will take you into the interior of the store, where they have the most expensive impulse items.  Meanwhile, you are their salve, and will pick up at least 10 unplanned items.

There are no more “Mr. Woods”, who drove down the street ringing a cowbell to sell his home grown vegetables;  no more local milk trucks, or local bread makers to deliver the freshest and healthiest foods.  You must go to a grocery store and follow their arrows to buy the product that will pay them (the grocer) the most to put on the shelves of that grocer.

I haven’t even gotten into the rant I have stored up about the “Free Sample” industry, which will send you a “free sample” if you pay for (via credit card) the shipping and handling.  If you don’t make plans to send it back (unused portion) within a certain allotted time, they will charge you $80.00 for the next monthly installment.  I do have to stop there.

Let’s just get real about this.  Squint your eyes and see through all of the ads, and then do what you know is best….and I wish it was just that simple.  Meanwhile, we are barraged with the sales pitches of today’s industry.  These days, we can record the programs we want to see, and either fast forward through the ads.  And, I think we can even record them sans the ads, which would be my choice.  Or, we can do what we used to do, and use the commercials to get up and do something else until the commercial is over.  That one always worked for me.

IT’S ALL ABOUT CHOICES WE MAKE

I love Morgan Freeman.  He has a spot on our Science Channel (Through the Wormhole) which explains so much about humanity and discovery of science.  Today, he made me think about people I am related to, grew up with, interact with daily, and am challenged by every day.  It keeps me alive and sharp…well, I hope sharp enough to endure the next two decades I’m supposed to survive.  Morgan asks, “What does it really mean to be alive?”  My answer to that is, “WOW!”  Energy flows through everything!  Just how minute are we, and where do we REALLY live, come from, etc.?

Suffice to say that Morgan asks some really deeeeeep questions, and makes a person think and wonder about why we’re here.  I do not pretend to understand quantum physics; but, I can only get so far with what he says before my ADD takes over…..and I SO admire people who can really understand any kind of physics …universes that lie beyond the farthest reaches of black holes.  “The answers live in the hidden hearts of black holes.”  “Our universe may likely exist on an ever-growing tree of life.” Are you with me Phil?
To start with, we can choose to question everything and everyone we encounter.  Here are a few things we truly CAN choose.

Choose to:

           1. Study hard to make good grades
          2.  Ask Questions and listen to others
          3.  FINISH school
          4.  Go to college
          5.  Learn to save and invest your earned money to match what you want in life,
          6. Participate in life
           7. Volunteer
           8. Be kind to EVERY one – EVERY day.
          9.  Like what you have and have what you like
      10.  Choose to be happy every day!  You are in charge of your own happiness.
      11. CHOOSE not to judge others, even if you HAVE walked in their shoes.
      12. Realize that we can choose, and so can everyone else.  Who IS everyone else?
        13. Play a musical instrument, even if it’s consists of two, pencils pounded on a desk top.  Oddly                    enough, this is something I understand.
     
These are only a few thoughts that flew through my consciousness today that might make my life more organized, if not just a bit more simple.  Morgan has posed so many questions, that I can only believe that the universe has a brain, and thinks for us…every atom, every particle….

THAT CRITICAL SNEEZE

Sunday morning I had poured myself another cup of coffee and made half an open-faced peanut butter sandwich for Hank. No, not that the dog is spoiled at all; it’s just a trick. His pain pill is underneath the peanut butter. As I was walking back to the bedroom to give the special sandwich to the dog, I felt a sneeze coming on. This was going to be a Lu-Lu, and I was already walking over the living room carpet. I paused, crossed my right leg over the left one and braced myself for the explosion. It was indeed a big sneeze, but I was successful in maintaining the peanut butter and bread in my right hand and the coffee cup in my left hand … all without spilling a drop, or depositing the open-faced peanut butter sandwich onto the carpet. And, HAH! No leak! I’ve become very good at this. All of my contemporary women friends will know what this means.

Another scenario would be when you are shopping at the local grocery store and you hear someone close by start to sneeze. You look up and see a woman close to your own age, (Baby Boomer age), and you know what’s going to happen. The woman has crossed one leg over the other and bends at the waist while holding on to the basket. AaaahhhhCHOOOOOOOO! A violent sneeze erupts. The woman straightens up and continues on. She is actually smiling as though nothing has happened or maybe that she’s fooled someone. Let the shopping continue.

Let me tell you, plenty has happened. I could tell you in stages. First of all, she’s had at least one or two big babies. She’s probably in her 40’s or older, has worked at a desk for the past 20 years and the muscles in the floor of her abdomen have weakened significantly. Denial has taken its place in admitting that there could be a leaky bladder control problem due to prolapsed innards. This is not uncommon at all, but most women prefer to just say nothing about it. Who are we kidding anyway? This happens to men as well. I’ve just never seen a guy go through any contortions trying to keep from “loosing it”, except for maybe his hand in his pocket.

When I finally admitted to my doctor that this could indeed be a problem, if not a down right embarrassment, he recommend that I "just do these simple Kegel exercises". He told me that these can be done anywhere, at any time. You just contract your PC (pelvis cavity) muscles until they get tired, and then repeat the exercise. The doctor told me that these muscles are a ham hock-like muscle. Well, that just gave the whole situation a whole lot more dignity, and made it harder for me to keep a straight face, now that I have that image. When I do the exercise, I can just envision a ham hock down there. The doctor was quick to correct me.

“It’s hammock-like, not ham-hock-like.”

These exercises are easier said than done. First of all, these exercises require a certain amount of concentration, and if you’ve ever observed anyone thinking very hard about something they are trying to do physically (especially if you can’t see what they are doing), it’s a dead give away.


I tried doing these contractions while driving down the road, caught a look at my face of concentration in the mirror. What a hoot! Didn’t know I could make such faces. After a while, I decided against doing these exercises while driving, when I imagined getting pulled over. Actually, I decided not to do them in public … ever!

Sorry officer. No, I’m not in pain. I was just doing some Kegel exercises, and I must not have seen that stop sign.

They (doctors) say there is a very simple office procedure to remedy this. They can actually string it back up where it belongs. It would permanently fix this leaky problem. However, there are no office procedures any more. First you are sent to a urologist, who then sends you for a battery of tests, and more specialists. When they’ve finally exhausted all extra curricular examination, they will schedule you for out-patient surgery. I've also seen a number of ads about medications for this.  Have you seen/listened to the disclaimers about these medications?  It;s enough to give you a bowel problem.  So, I'm calling my trusted OB/GYN to see what she says about this.   Enough about that part. I’ll expound on that at a later date.

Okay, back to the critical sneeze. Now that you know what’s going on when you see a woman standing in the middle of a room, one leg crossed over the other and doubled over; your job is to turn your head and pretend that you just don’t see it. OR, you could just nod at her acknowledging that you’ve been there and done that.

Well, I guess your reaction to that vision just depends … Yikes! That just sent a chill up my spine! NO! I don’t wear Depends yet…………………… Yet! And, YET is a very big word.
.

STILL GOOD TO GO!

As I woke this morning, my thoughts first went to the usual mind ruminations of the morning.  What time is it?  What day is it?  What is the date?  What’s scheduled?  Oh yeah, I paid Christmas bills yesterday…..Royster has an appointment this afternoon for the dentist.  I need to go look at a dress for a wedding.  Pick up prescriptions.  My eye doctor appointment has to be rescheduled.  It’s trash day…get it out to the curb.  Too cold to work in the yard … leftovers for dinner tonight.  The day awaits something new.

Royster woke early and went upstairs to his office.  I sat up and placed my feet on the floor.  After all of those waking morning thoughts trampled through my head, the thought occurred to me that I’m 64 years old…I’m upright, bleed when I’m cut, and can still cast a full shadow….so I must be fine.  I don’t hurt anywhere, and I have everything I need for the day.  I’m still good to go!  I smiled at this wry thought.  You’ve put yourself through a rough mill, old girl, but have always dodged the worst of it.  I’m still good to go!  I stood and padded to the bathroom.

I wondered what was in store for the day, daring not to project too far into my future.  I’ll just take what’s on my plate for today, Lord…Help me put this day to good use …. do a kindness for someone today.

The past several weeks seemed so long ago already.  I found myself unable to stop thinking about the recent past dramas and joys, all mixed in a strange potpourri, I decided to review the last few weeks…starting just before Thanksgiving.  Actually, it started months before, while we made plans for The Royster’s retirement and the big Retirement Vacation out west.  Things were getting close, as we had planned to start this vacation on January 5^th.  I decided to get some things tied up prior to this.  Getting a check up in order to have all of the age appropriate meds in hand while we’re on our big vacation was at the top of the list….an eye doctor visit was optional, but there was a distinct feeling that I needed to make sure I got my vision checked.   I called my “provider clinic” and made all of the appropriate appointments, and an unplanned appointment with the eye clinic there.  Strangely, I got an immediate appointment for the next day.

Somewhat apprehensive, but in a bit of denial that there was anything more than just an adjustment in my contact prescription; I sat in the examination room, eyes fully dilated and waiting for the doctor to come have a look.  Dr. Patel was a beautiful young woman.  She was friendly, but at the same time very professional and thorough.  As she flashed the light into my eyes, she kept going back to look at my left eye.  I must have squirmed a bit, because she apologized for the discomfort the light was causing, and said that there was something there, and that I needed to have a specialist look at it immediately.  There was no way I could go that afternoon, so after some phone calling, an appointment was arranged with a retinal specialist in the medical center down town for the next morning.  Roy came home early, and we fretted together about what could possibly be there in my left eye.

 We arrived early at the retinal specialist’s office……….Every kind of test was run, pictures taken, ultrasounds, MRI’s, PET Scans through my clinic.  Finally, the thing in the back of my eye had a name.  There was a malignant melanoma in the retina in the back of my left eye.  How could this be?  Since I had had lung cancer before (8 years ago), I was examined for any cancer anywhere else in my body.  The good news was that there was no other cancer found anywhere else.  I was told that there was nothing I did to have caused this.  “Sometimes these things just happen.”  The doctor said.  I was sent to the go to man in the field to be treated.  The same imaging was repeated through his office.  By all rights I should still be glowing with radiation just from the preliminary imaging.

 

I was offered two scenarios of treatment.  One involved surgery to sew a patch of radiation on to the tumor…left on for a week, and another surgery to remove it.  It wasn’t new, but it had proved successful.  That just hurt thinking about it.  The second scenario was a relatively new procedure called a CyberKnife.  It was relatively painless, and a one-time treatment.  It involved making a mask to hold my head still and in place for a radiation laser to literally kill the cancer cells.  I chose the latter, CyberKnife treatment.

 

We had asked Dr. B. if we should cancel or post pone our vacation plans.  He said that the recovery time was only a couple of days, so the treatment was scheduled for January 3^rd … just two days before we were to leave for our vacation.   That having been arranged, I was oddly ready to get on with the Thanksgiving and Christmas preparations and celebrations, and tried to put off thinking about the cancer and the radiation treatment I would soon be having.

We went to Fredericksburg for Thanksgiving and enjoyed the festive shopping, photo ops and good food.  After a couple of days, we headed home to make preparations for Christmas.  We set up a Christmas tree outside on the deck, and decorated very little inside.  Got all the out of town mailings done and celebrated the season with friends.  Christmas came and went, giving way to the New Year.  My surgery date was ironically on my 64^th birthday, on January 3^rd.  I was ready.

I slept very little the night before the CyberKnife surgery, and after a brief snooze in the early hours, I woke with a bodacious headache and nausea.  There was not a chance I was going to let that keep me from this life-saving surgery.  I was sick for the entire hours’ drive to the CyberKnife clinic, and continued to throw up my toenails until they finally gave me an Oxycontin for my nausea, and then a Vicodin for the headache.  By the time they had me in a gown, I was pretty much like a silly beanbag.   I was no longer nervous, that is, until they shot my eye muscles and optic nerve with the anesthetic.  That hurt like hell.   And after one more round of MRI and CT scans before the surgery, they put the mask on me and buckled my head to the table; and I was left alone in the room with the robot that would shoot radiation via laser to the tumor in my eye.  A voice spoke to me over a speaker to announce that the laser would start and continue for about an hour.  I was to remain positively motionless for the duration (like I had a choice).  Let the cure began!  The procedure itself was painless, but none the less nerve-wracking.  After what seemed like an eternity, a cheerful voice came over the speaker again to announce, “All done!” 

Suddenly, there were people around me unbuckling my mask, and setting me free.  They raised me up and helped me into a wheel chair to a dressing room.  I don’t remember if I had help dressing, but before I knew it, I was being wheeled down the hall to Roy, who was waiting for me in the hallway next to an examination room. It was over, but I’d had so much adrenalin built up, there was nowhere for it to go.  All I could do was bury my face in his goose down vest and sob tears of release and relief.  It was over, and all I wanted to do was to go home and sleep off the rest of the pre-surgery happy meds.

 

The work of the CyberKnife was a success.  The cancer cells were zapped and are dead.  The tumor itself will shrink gradually.  I did not lose any vision at all, and I can still wear my contacts.  All is good again….and once again, I’m upright, bleed when cut and can still cast a full shadow.  I’m good to go.  We left on our vacation at 5:30 on January 5^th.  Westward hoooooooo!

TAKE A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE. The Older We Get….

Before you start reading this dissertation, I’d like to implant a little ditty in your brain for you to carry with you all day long.  You must go back to the 70’s music to Lou Reed and listen to “Walk on the Wild Side”.  This is insured to stay with you for at least a day.  It’s been buzzing around in my head for a couple of days….God only knows why.

“…. Hey Babe, Take A Walk On The Wild Side,
Said Hey Honey, Take A Walk On The Wild Side.”

Being a Senior Citizen is not for sissies’.  Ask any of my high school classmates.  So, I’ve aptly entitled this little story TAKE A WALK ON THE SILD SIDE.

Ask any of them, and they will still tell you that we still see things through the eyes we were born with, only with a bit more wisdom and maybe a little more aplomb (but not much). We try to be tactful, but the older we get, we see things for what they are, and it’s very difficult to just let stuff slide.  We’ve learned to call a spade a SPADE:   And, NO, there is NO racial slur there.  It simply means we call it as we see it.  However, I have found that it sometimes gets you ostracized from any group you happen to have joined; especially if the others are under 50 years old.  They see to it that everything falls under the politically correct terms.  We, on the other hand, we just don’t give a rat’s ass.  I’ll be the first one to say when I’m being sexually harassed, or discriminated against for my age!  You will definitely be informed.

One of my pet peeves is when I’ve had an oil change at the Dodge dealership.  It’s really good service, and a really happy guy comes right up to the window ready to take information and exchange pleasantries for the morning.  That’s not what I’m opposed to.  It’s the fact that, as soon as you return home from there, the phone starts ringing.  They want to speak to “Mr. Anderson”.  I know it’s because I just had the oil changed in his Durango.  They want to take a survey on the service performed at the Dodge dealership.  They ask for “Mr. Anderson”, and I tell them, “He’s at work.”  And that’s the truth.  That’s why I took his car to get the oil changed.  I know what they want, but I resent the fact that as soon as I return home they want to take a survey. They ask if there would be a better time to call, and I give them an unequivocal, “No”, after which a looonng silence ensues.  Finally they just say, “Well, I’ll just call back.” …. Click.  This keeps up until they are allowed to speak to “Mr.”   I have my speech all planned for the next time they call.   “Don’t call me:  I’ll call you!  BE WARE!  We senior citizens can be wild, especially if irritated by pointless surveys."

I’m just saying, Don’t mess with me!  I’ve just had the oil changed.  That’s all.  If there was a problem, you would know BEFORE I leave the premise!  I will let YOU know.  I have things to do when I get home; and none of them includes answering a very annoying “short survey”.  Leave me alone, or I will verbally smack you with my imaginary cane!

LIFETIMES OF FRIENDS AND LIFE'S CHALLENGES AS I SEE IT

For the past several weeks I've had a touch of the dreaded writer's block, and I've been thinking a lot about all my friends and lifetime challenges that we've all faced.  It's true.  Over the past few years I have had the privilege of becoming re-acquainted with many people that I grew up with and went to school with.  I will admit that Facebook has been largely  instrumental in this.  This is the year we had one huge class reunion that included all classed of 1960 through 1969. 

I will be first to admit, that even though I have seen faces, “friended” and “chatted” with most of these people, and I ended up, (just like everyone else), looking at name tags.  I actually did recognize many of them, and  I’m just as sure that there were many that perused my name tag as well.  All of the people had changed in one way or another, including myself, and I suppose one doesn’t notice subtle changes in self as much as one would notice changes (after long periods of time) in others.  People adjust to changes in themselves and their spouses, and children rather quickly.  My, my, my…how we’ve all changed, and we’re all still cute and adorable, but just in another way!  We all turned out to be pretty magnificent people.

The Mexican restaurant was beautiful….up on a hill, the dinner was served on the patio.  There had to have been at least 30 large round tables, each seating about 8 people. We seated ourselves and were joined by six other folks.  This made the evening even more special.  I introduced the Royster around for a while, and then circulated a bit, bought raffle tickets and chatted.  By the time I got back to our table, it was time to get in line for some really good Texas cooking. 

While sitting at our table, gazing around at peers and teachers from the past, I thought; We are common group of unique individuals. 

All of this brought forth the “rules of people and acceptance”.  I put that in quotation marks because these rules are in my head as though I invented them myself, though I don’t really believe it to be an original concept. 

•  We are a common grouping of animals, classified as humans, who are unique as individuals.  No two are exactly alike.  
• People will change with time, and should be allowed to be exactly who they are. 

• It's vital that we accept individuals for who they are, and do not expect them to be anything more or less than they are.  If I could make them more like ME, then I probably wouldn’t find them very interesting, nor would I like them very much.
• No one sees me the same way I see myself in the mirror, nor do they perceive the who in me as I perceive myself to be.
• Play the game with the cards you were dealt.  This means use what you were given. This makes one sit down to take inventory.  We forget what beautiful gifts we are given; and we take these gifts for granted.

We all have been down our prospective roads far enough to realize that we were put here to handle whatever is in front of us at the time, and further, to learn from it.  I sure hope I’ve learned from all the things I’ve stumbled over in the years I’ve been on this road.  Looks like there are several more miles of things to stumble over, study and learn from, and I can truthfully say that I look forward to it.  After you get over the shock of some of the stumbles, it’s just so damned interesting.

None of us solve problems and/or dilemmas in the same way, because we are all different and think differently.  There are NO cookie cutter kids.  And on another positive note, everything seems to fall back into place just where it’s supposed to; and not necessarily in the same place it was before, but just where it’s supposed to be.  That keeps us on our toes, and interested.   I think I’ll hang around for “the rest of the story”.

LITTLE, LOST SALLY

This story is another marker of my daily observances.  Seems that I’m so much more aware than I have ever been.  Keeping an eye out for things that are unusual, or just out of place in any scene I happen upon on any given day.

Thursday, I had procrastinated leaving the house for some reason.  Just didn’t want to get out right away.  Dark clouds and thunder in the distance were a very welcomed indication of much needed rain.  I wanted to go to the store before the rain for a couple of items that I would need to make dinner.  This is a habit that I probably won’t ever break…going to the store for “just a couple of items”.  It gets me out of the house.  Finally, at about 10:00 I headed out the driveway, around the corner and down the main drag of our subdivision. 

About a block from the light at the entrance to our subdivision, I spied a small white dog running down the very middle of the street.  She held her little head high, little pointed ears straight back, and running purposefully in a straight line…a bee line toward the intersection.  I could see that the little Chihuahua could be great peril.  I’ve never been very fond of the notion of owning a Chihuahua, but someone would be heartbroken.  I couldn’t bear the thought of possibly witnessing little Sally getting hit by an oncoming car.  Dammit!  I’d already named her.  Okay, then….already attached, I pursued the little lost Sally.   I always get too attached.

I pulled over to the curb, turned on my flashers, hopped out of my truck, and started after the little white Chihuahua.  Apparently, she heard footsteps and glanced back at me without losing her pace.  We neared the driveway of a small business park, and I noticed a car about to pull out into the street.  I caught the young woman’s eye and begged that she stop for the little dog. She stopped.   And, as if signaled that there would be a place to hide, little Sally turned to look at me as I neared, then backed under the front wheel well of the young woman’s Toyota.  Thankfully, the young woman knew not to move forward and put her car in park and got out to help.  Sally backed further underneath the car.

 

The young woman was on her way to work.  Perfectly groomed, neatly dressed in her hostess outfit, and sporting a really cool chili pepper name badge, Sylvia got out of her car and squatted down to have a look at the situation.

 

“Oh, the poor little thing!” She cried, as she reached towards the little dog.  Sally feigned a vicious growl and Sylvia calmly withdrew her hand.  I reached out and tried.  Sally would have none of it.  Sylvia offered that she might have something in her car that might entice the little dog out.  I was all for it.  She disappeared into her car and produced a few Gummy Bears, and I bit my cheeks to avoid laughing, reminding myself that I didn’t have a solution at all.

 

Sylvia offered the morsel to Sally, who sniffed at it, stared and back up suspiciously.  She tore one of the Gummy Bears in half and tried again.  Sally came forward a bit, sniffed and licked the Gummy Bear.  She appeared to like it, and moved a bit closer.  Sylvia reached in and picked up her new friend gently.  What a sweetie that Sylvia was!  She handed Sally to me and bid us farewell.  She had to be at work at 10:30.  Good thing the restaurant was just around the corner.

I took Sally and put her in my truck.  She was cute.  She had no collar and was white with a black left eye, and had a black spot over her right eye.  What a cutie!  She was pretty chubby…like a little sausage.  No….not like a sausage; a fat burrito with a Chihuahua face.  I noticed that she held the tip of her tongue out.  I also noticed something very remarkable for a Chihuahua.  It was evident that she was frightened, but she did not tremble at all!  She stood at the passenger side window to lookout.  As soon as I started my truck, she was in my lap and looking out the window on my side.  This wasn’t her first car ride.

I turned the truck around, and decided to go down the first street and ask at a couple of residences if they recognized little Sally.  At the first house on the corner, a very pleasant woman came to the door.  She didn’t recognize little Sally, but offered to take me across the street to another neighbor, who might shed some light on the lost little dog.  Her neighbor didn’t recognize the little lost Sally either, so Sally and I took our leave, and headed to the veterinary clinic across the main road.

 

The woman at the vet clinic window offered to scan Sally to see if she had an I.D. chip.  Sadly, no, she did not.  I said, “Well, I don’t really know what to do with her, but I’ll….”  The woman that had just scanned Sally interrupted to say…”Uhhh….Are you going to take her back to where you found her?”  I was outraged!  The very idea!  I said, “Of course not! I’m taking her back to my house!  Here’s my phone number just in case you hear of someone looking for this little dog!”    I took Sally and left.

As I drove off, I thought; Now look what you’ve done!  You’ve compromised your entire day!  And then I felt instantly guilty for thinking such a selfish thought.

I drove home and put Sally down in the back yard and let Hank out to welcome her.  He gave her the sniff test, and she passed.  They headed out towards the far back yard to check their Pee-Mail.  I came in the house and printed up some “FOUND, WHITE CHIHUAHUA” notices to post around the front and back of the subdivision.  I let Hank in the house, and took Sally with me to post the signs at the entrances to the subdivision.  Again, she hopped in my lap to navigate our drive.  I used packing tape to post the signs on the light polls, and we returned home just in time for a torrent of rain to start coming down.

I sat down at the kitchen table (my kitchen office) to mess around on the computer while observing the dogs bonding.  Actually, Sally sniffed around a bit and took up her post sitting on my right foot to watch Hank, who had decided he was not getting replaced by a Chihuahua.  He laid down in the living room to take another nap.  Sally stayed on my right foot and watched Hank intently.  Apparently she had been an only dog in her household and was not familiar with hanging out with a big dog.

 

The rain was really pounding down, and I was grateful.  We had not had a decent rain since January.  Both dogs disappeared into the bedroom.  I followed to see what the attraction was.   It was a missed Kodak moment, as they stood at the open window together to watch the rain.  It would have been a great picture.

After a while, I fixed myself a P.B. & J. and fixed some lunch for the dogs as well.  Hank started in on his bowl, and Sally sniffed at hers and looked up at me as if to say…”No thank you.  I just want my family.”  I sat down to eat my sandwich, and Sally resumed her post on my right foot.  Hank went back to resume his nap.

 

The rain had let up, and I wondered if the signs had held up.  Just in case, I printed up 3 more signs and headed out to check on them.  As I suspected, the rain and wind had knocked the signs down.  I dried the light post and posted fresh signs and returned home.  Someone should be calling about Little Lost Sally.

Royster would be coming home soon, so I sat back down at my “desk”, and Sally again resumed her post on my foot.  I noticed a few minutes later, that Sally had crept off my foot and was creeping a little bit at a time towards Hank (still sleeping).  Ears pointed forward, she’d creep forward a step or two until finally she was right behind Hank’s head.  She turned to look at me, and then turned back around to sniff Hank’s ear. This made his ear twitch, and it startled her.  She hurried back to my foot at once, and stared at the otherwise undisturbed sleeping dog.  About that time The Royster drove up, and both dogs got up to go greet him at the back door.  Royster was not surprised, and Sally recognized that he was part of the family.  I find this humorous, as other stray or lost dogs would have growled at a “stranger” at the door.

We all adjourned to the bedroom to watch the evening news.  I hoisted Hank up on the bed, and Sally looked at me expectantly, so I lifted her up as well.  She immediately snuggled up next to me.  This wasn’t her first rodeo!  Hank accepted the extra company on the bed.

It wasn’t long after that the phone rang.  A woman asked me if I had found a white Chihuahua.  I told her I did, and that she was here and safe.  The woman was ecstatic in Spanish.  She didn’t speak much English, and put her daughter on the phone. She told me that they lived near the park, and that we should meet them in the parking lot there.  I asked her what the dog’s name was, and she said Lisa. The Royster and I left, with Sally/Lisa in tow, first going to what we know as the park.  No one was there, so I guessed they meant the club pool.

As we drove up, we saw a tan van, a woman and three children waiting anxiously for Sally/Lisa, and I handed her over to the children.  The mother was in tears, and I could tell that she would have done anything for those children. The youngest had a fist full of $20’s, and tried to hand it to me. I told them, “NO MONEY!  No, No dinaro!  No es necesario!”  They insisted, and I finally told them that I would take hugs instead and they finally agreed to that.  It was very plain that Sally/Lisa belonged to them, or they belonged to Sally/Lisa.

I knew too, that the name (Lisa) that the girl had given me was probably her own name, and not the little Chihuahua’s name, which I will probably not ever know. All was as it should have been…. And,I just love happy endings.

IT JUST MAKES SENSE

Not long ago, I was having lunch at an Italian restaurant with a group of my peers. This restaurant had a Wednesday lunch special with all you could eat soup, salad and fresh hot bread.  This is what we all swore was a light lunch because there were no main courses involved.  There were four of us, and we were discussing all the things that women of our age discuss; weight gain, diets, recipes, surgeries and other maladies, husbands, children and grandchildren.

 

Jacqueline had decided that she was 25 lbs. overweight because of her grandchildren. “Yes”, she said.  “I’ve gained this weight because the grandchildren come over here at least once a week, and they always want me to bake, and of course I bake extra for Rick and myself.”   She captured the waiter’s attention.  “Could we please have some more butter ?”

Karina chimed in that she had gained 30 extra Lbs. over the past 3 years sitting at a desk.  “Ladies, that’s ten lbs. a year!”   It was a demanding, thankless job.  Someone always brought donuts or breakfast burritos in the mornings, and everyone eats out at lunchtime. The workload was grueling, and by the time she got home, she was hungry, and  too tired to work out.  “Bogart always has dinner ready for me when I get home….usually something fast, and sometimes ordered out, like pizza or fried chicken.  I’ll be retiring in three years, and I’ll start working out then.”  Well, I guess it makes sense, to wait until you’re finished putting it all on.

 

We all ruminated on that a bit, while eating our diet lunch of soup, salad and bread.  The waiter brought out a basket of freshly baked bread to replace the empty bread basket. “Could we please have more of the olive oil for the bread and 4 more soups?”  Georgina asked.  “And we could probably use a little more salad.” 

“You know”, continued Georgina, “It’s a damn shame that we have to age this way….I mean look at how much weight we put on!  And, it’s so hard to take off.”  “Harlan just doesn’t seem to understand that we cannot continue to eat like pigs….especially at night. He insists on a bowl of ice cream every night…..And, of course, he knows I simply cannot resist having a little ice cream as well.  And, he doesn’t even gain an ounce! No wonder I’ve gained 35 lbs.!”  It just makes sense, doesn’t it?

It’s so true! Year after year, and holiday after holiday, our husbands, children and grandchildren demand that we cook all of the seasonal delights.  Our jobs dole out sedentary assignments and projects that hobble us to our desks.  We fall into a routine that’s really hard to change.  Even the dog gets fat with us.

I finally had to add my two cents worth.  “You know, girls, I think we’re all in the same boat.  The older we get, the easier we gain weight, and the harder it is to take off the extra weight.  I’ve been thinking about this for a while now.  We are definitely less active and our metabolisms have slowed down dramatically….waaayyy down.  I think there must be a perfectly good reason for this extra weight. Girls, I’m pretty sure we’ve gained all this extra weight over the years to fill in all the wrinkles.  Y’all don’t laugh!  I’m serious about this!”  Georgina almost choked and laughed her wine through her nose.  Karina laughed so hard that she had to excuse herself to the bathroom, and Jacqueline fanned herself wildly…..”Stop it!  I’ll wet myself!”

After two solid hours of soup, salad and bread, there was usually only room enough for the four of us to share a dessert.  The favorite of which was the frosted, nut filled brownie pie a la mode.  To be honest, one person could not /should not eat one alone.  I said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you girls to help me through this on Wednesdays.  Honestly, this dessert is just really to die for!  Dig in, ya’ll!”  With that, we all grabbed our spoons and started in on the chocolate delight; and it all started to make sense.  After all, we had some wrinkles to fill in.

IT’S ALL ABOUT COMFORT - AT LAST!

While chatting with my friend Carolyn on the phone the other day, the subject of endearing old practices and traditions arose.  Somehow, it came around to the smell and feel of freshly washed and ironed sheets, and how nice it feels to just snuggle into them.  Since we lived with my grandparents for a little while when I was very young, I do remember my grandmother’s maid, Lillian, ironing them.  I learned how to iron from Lillian, and she would let me stand on a box and iron pillowcases while she prepared other clothes to be ironed.   She ironed everything from table linens, sheets and my grandfather’s dress shirts, khakis, boxer shorts, my grandmother’s nighties, to hankies and even the baby’s diapers. I must have been about five years old.  Remembering just how nice they smelled, I tried to iron sheets after I married, but I just got too busy working and taking care of a baby.  I did iron the pillowcases for a while; and that really made a difference.  The sheets could just be wrinkled.  Thinking about all of this, I thought of all the items that were ironed and starched, and then remembered all the old comforts that are now settling on my shoulders like a favorite old bathrobe.

There are certainly wonderful old comforts to be reviewed, but I started remembering way back when some things were just plain uncomfortable or un-cool.  I recalled net and crinoline petticoats.  

As little girls are from the very beginning, we were very fashion conscious from kindergarten up.  Fashion and beauty were to be attained at any expense from then on.  Crinoline and net petticoats were a big fashion statement, and we’d starch them in heavy starch, and then lay them out on a flat surface on a sheet to dry.  Once dried, we could wear them under our fullest skirts to fluff them out, or under a circular felt skirt with a poodle appliquéd on the front.…Very fashionable in the 50’s and 60’s.  The really bad part is that they were so uncomfortable as hell to sit on, not to mention that we didn’t have air conditioning in our schools then.  We would sit on those petticoats in the sweltering heat of the classroom, only to get up with them stuck to the backs of our legs.  Next trip to the restroom we peeled them off our legs and tried to fluff them out once more. Oh, the work ... the agony!

Crisp white blouses were starched to wear with the full skirts; and gym clothes were another couple of things that were a bit chaffing; and after one ran around the gym or played basketball or volleyball enough to break a sweat.  The stuff just stuck to you.

We little girls showed extreme interest in shoes even back then, and we knew what we wanted.  Saddle oxfords were high fashion when Mom was in high school, but she made us wear those late 30’s and early 40’s “fashion statement saddle oxfords” until we were in junior high school.  My sisters and I hated them.  We wanted cute shoes like the other girls wore to school; the black patent Mary-Janes, and later in middle school, the “flats” and penny loafers. 

Mom would buy us the Buster Brown brand or saddle oxfords, and then she would swear we would thank her later for our perfect feet and nice straight toes.  And, according to Mom, you didn’t need to polish your saddle shoes very often.  It was fashionable to let them get worn looking.  I didn’t think that was right and was always polishing mine.  If I had to wear them, then they would look as new as I could make them look, that is, until I outgrew them.  But, out growing these shoes took a long time, as Mom would buy them two sizes to long for me, in anticipation of my growth, and the new ones always rubbed blisters on my heels.  With these, she bought a box of band-aids. What a bonus.

In about the 6^th grade, I started bugging Mom to let me shave my legs.  "No!” She said. “You’re too young!”  She said I couldn’t’ until I was 14.  Well, that was just forever!  So, with that, I just quit asking and just gave myself permission to shave my legs during the summer before I entered junior high school.  I was sure she wouldn’t notice.

So, I crept into the upstairs bathroom and closed the door.  There was a razor in the cabinet that my older sister had used.  I lathered up my right leg with the bar of Palmolive soap and started out by taking a big swipe from the ankle of my right leg.   In the process, I cut a nice, neat slice from ankle, almost to my knee.  Geeeeeezzzze!  How was I going to explain that?  And, since that was the first pass at my leg with the razor, the job never got finished.  I was much too busy trying to stop the bleeding.   It looked like I was going to need stitches, or at least butterfly sutures.   At any rate, since I didn’t ask (because the answer was going to be “no”), I got in a lot of trouble and given extra chores to do; and of course, GROUNDED!!!!  The subject was never brought up again, and I just became very careful about shaving.   I learned early that it’s painful trying to be gorgeous and fashionable.

I finally reached junior high school and was allowed to wear flats and penny loafers.  I never had to wear saddle oxfords again!  With the flats, you needed hose.  A girl needed all the right paraphernalia to hold up the hose, a garter belt, or a girdle.  I guess nothing comes easy.  Panty hose were still very new on the market, and still being perfected.  You needed at least one back up pair of hose, because inevitably you’d get a run in one.  I learned to use clear nail polish to stop a run.  I was getting a real fashion education.

Penny Loafers required crew socks.  This was really a problem, because there were three of us girls in high school or junior high school at once.  We learned early to try to do our own laundry separately from everyone else’s.  Mom tried to mark all of our clothes with color codes. No one seemed to take the color coding seriously. If your socks got tossed into the laundry for the “general population” the crew socks were as good as gone; the general population being eleven of us kids and Mom and Dad.  Possession was the general rule for the general population laundry.  ALL socks from the general population laundry got tossed into the sock bag.  The sock bag was actually a navy-blue canvas bag that used to fit on the back of one of the old strollers.  If your socks got chunked into that bag, you might as well just kiss them good-bye.  You’d never see/match your socks again, unless they were on another sibling.  Most times I’d end up wearing the revered hose with my loafers, which worked, but wasn’t as cool as it was when Mom wore loafers.

Makeup was a whole different matter.  Dad was a real watch dog about this.  He’d send us back in the house to “Wipe off at least half of that!  You look like a clown!”  On those days, we were usually late for school.  From those days forward, I wore makeup, shaved, wore penny loafers, flats and hose, started coloring my chestnut-colored hair and used hairspray.  After a while, I got pretty good at all of that, and it became just a part of who I was.

Now, there is a paradox in all of this.  As I got older, I have noticed that wearing less makeup looks much better; and shoes that are more the shape of my feet are much more comfortable.  I actually had a pair of Earth Shoes for years; and wish I still had them.  The picture below is exactly the style I had to wear with my hip-slung bell bottoms and Tees. 

When I lost all of my hair in chemotherapy, I was amazed at the color that grew back.  It was a color it had never been, and it had literally been every color under the rainbow.  It came back in black and silver.  That was quite a switch from the natural chestnut color I vaguely remember before I started coloring it when I was about 26.  I found that, not only can I live without coloring my hair, but that I prefer to leave it alone.  I am very comfortable with it.

I look for comfortable clothing in the department stores.  Sometimes it’s really hard to find jeans and slacks that come to the waist.  I asked a clerk what I was supposed to do with the muffin top that bulged out of the top of the pants cut below the belly button.  Blouses must be loose with three-quarter sleeves, and just the right neckline.  I love my clogs, crocks and walking shoes.  My favorites are still my flip-flops.  However, I still have a few very classic dress shoes that I just refuse to get rid of; just not very many places to wear them.  I guess it’s just the girl in me ... hanging on to them.

So, I’m getting to where comfort overrides style, but I’ve developed my own style over the years.  No one noticed or cared when I quit wearing mascara 10 years ago.  It saves me money and several minutes putting on a face in the morning; and that’s been pared down to just the very basics.  I love dressing up in comfort and looking good at the same time.  Why didn’t I think of that years ago?

I guess the older you get, the less you depend on what others think.  It’s called having a mind of your own.  When you worry about what someone else thinks of you, you’re just handing them a lot of power. 

And guess what?  I washed all the pillowcases and ironed them today.  They smell heavenly and provide a wonderful memory and comfort of long ago.  I might just do that again.  So, I’m all about comfort now, and I’m off to watch the “eye-lid movies”! (Dad used to say that.) with my head on a freshly washed and ironed pillowcase.  Nighty-night y’all!  Sweet dreams!