Week Eleven (1/19-25)

I was in my car waiting in line at my son's elementary school to pick him up. There really isn't much to do except waste gas and wait your turn to pull off the street into the loading zone. In front of me this day was a bright yellow Pontiac Aztek. On the back window was a quote:

 

 

 

Fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing. Optimus Prime

 

 

 

While the quote was...nice? At the time I couldn't help but be a bit scared that an adult...who by the way is raising at least one child to be a productive member of society...thought so much of the Transformers movies that he ordered a "Bumblebee" colored SUV and then thought "NO! That's not enough! I want a quote by Optimus Prime on the back window!".

 

 

 

I had wondered if when this family gets in the car, did the parents say:

Transform and roll out!

 

 

 

It bothered me that someone had come to the conclusion that a movie quote was so awe inspiring that it belonged on their car. Not just as a bumper sticker, but meticulously placed in lettering at the bottom of the back window? I had to admit I was curious about what their house was like. Of course they'd have the full collection of the movies, but did they have a room devoted to Transformers?

 

 

 

I have my favorite quotes. I've mentioned before the Shirley MacLaine quote:

 

 

The person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused.

 

 

 

I like Teddy Roosevelt's quote:

 

 

It is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.

 

 

 

I also follow the Dalai Lama on Twitter. One I really liked recently was:

 

 

It is vital that when educating our children’s brains that we do not neglect to educate their hearts.

 

 

 

I think these are all wonderful quotes. But, you know, the important word I finally realized that I needed to focus on in that sentence is 'I'. The world is made up of individuals. That's a good thing! Yes, I didn't get it. It seemed kind of 'youthful' for a parent, but I'm an older parent ! There's a good chance those Transformer parents could be young enough to be MY child! Yikes!

 

 

 

Plus I can't say I haven't been influenced by a movie or song. I tried to teach myself Italian after seeing "Only You", and there was a time not so long ago that I felt a song by Dusty Springfield named "Wishin' and Hopin'" was a good way to win a man. I felt by being what I thought he wanted me to be and only focus on his likes and dislikes instead of who I really was I could "win" his attention:

 

 

...Show him that you care, just for him. Do the things that he likes to do. Wear your hair just for him, 'Cause you won't get him Thinkin' and a prayin',Wishin' and a hopin'...

 

 

What I learned this week can be summed up in another old quote:

 

 

 

Whatever floats your boat.

Week Ten 1/12-18

I'm a little late with this week's words. Busy, busy, busy. I've been helping out a friend and it has been time consuming. The friend is Sheila and I always love getting a chance to spend time with her. Life just seems to get in the way of a lot of the time for both of us, as it often does, but no matter how much time passes we have the ability to pick right up where we left off and enjoy each other's company.



I do love Sheila! She is my girl and so much fun to be around and talk to. We have been friends now for around twenty-five years I guess. She is one of those people who has Lived. I have told her often she needs to write a book of her adventures. I know it would be a best seller. She has hitchhiked across the country back when you could without worry, she has sold flowers on street corners in Arizona, went to concerts in her hippy days...I asked her if she went to Woodstock and she said no, at the time she heard about it she had decided it sounded boring, but you have to think how it sounded: 'Hey, wanna drive for thousands of miles to go to a concert in New York state in a cow pasture?'



When I asked her about the free love at concerts back then she answered it like this: "If you have a loaf of bread, and you meet a guy with a jar of peanut butter, hey, you got together."



Before you get an image in your head, she is not one of those people who never left the 60's or 70's. She does not live in a dome house out in the middle of the woods growing her own foods. She lives in a duplex.



I remember Stephen King talked about people who quit growing mentally and emotionally at a certain period in their lives: The man who still slicks his hair back and wears his high school letter man jacket even though he's old and retired. Or the woman who still rats her hair like she did in high school 40 years ago... They reached a high in their lives and don't want to leave that time, so they refuse to acknowledge life has marched on. But life is about change. Change is good most of the time. It's like the people who won't try a new food. I don't get that! I love finding something new. It's how you experience life. My life would be so sad if I had never tried GOOD balsamic vinegar, or wasabi, or Greek yogurt, or Kobe beef...mmmmm. I think everyone should try new foods when the chance presents itself. You may say, oh, yea? Would you eat chocolate covered grasshoppers? My answer is yes I would! I've never had the opportunity, but I would! I expect my son to try new foods, and I must lead by example. My experience had been 80% good, but even if it was 50% I'd continue. I love that moment when you take that first bite of something new and awesome and your eyes roll back in your head and it is almost orgasmic! Never want to give that up!

Lessons learned?

1. To live in the now and grow in all the ways I can. The past is over, learn from it. The future is yet to come, so worry won't help you. Enjoy today! It's all we've got!

Week Nine (1/5-11)

It seems like the Universe is testing me by making sure I don't have the time alone to think and work on my blog. This week Paul hurt his back and might have a herniated disc.  I'm so sorry on so many levels that he's hurt: I don't like to see him in pain, I don't like knowing he's going to be home, I don't like knowing I'm going to be driving him to so many doctors appointments... No!

I promised you and myself I wouldn't whine... Trust me when I say I could EASILY pull something off the shelf if I did want to whine! Did you know there are a lot of words for whine: pule, whimper, complain, grouch, grump, crab, gripe, grouse, kick, beef, bellyache, and bitch. Kick and beef surprise me. Kick is an action... 'I could just kick myself'. Action. But there's also 'Man! What a kick!' Isn't that good? Even: 'That was a kick in the pants!' That could go either way if you ask me, good or whine. And 'beef'? Only thing that comes to mind is 'So what's your beef?' I think if someone said it to me I'd think I was in an old black and white Humphrey Bogart movie. 'Pule' is an odd word, but even though I've never heard it before it makes a whinny sound when you say it aloud, and it actually goes with whimper, which is using sounds rather than words to let others know you're all bummed out, so I'll accept it. I can't stand when someone pules either! It's annoying.

On a good note I love the coated tongs Paul got me for Christmas! I can't believe how happy they make me. You see cooks on TV using them all the time, but it had never sunk in that I needed a pair. L-o-v-e them! Highly recommend them to everyone who cooks anything.

What I learned this week:

Some new words I hope you never use to describe me.

Week Eight (12/29-1/4)

Happy New Year. 2012. Woo Hoo. Guess that covers that.

I've had a house full of sickos all through the holidays. First it was the flu. Somehow I avoided it. Now it's a stomach virus, and so far I'm okay. I've started a regiment of taking one of those fizzy anti sick seltzers anytime someone is down and will continue daily until they're both better. So far so good! I recently learned zinc is the magic. I had already known when I had laryngitis all I had to do was suck on a REAL zinc pill and my voice would return a lot faster than if I didn't. Now I've discovered those fizzy drinks and it's so much tastier. With my asthma getting sick is a big deal. I think I'll be better when everyone is back where they're supposed to be: OUT OF THE HOUSE! First Damien was out of school from Dec 23-Jan 2nd, but then the stomach flu kept him home an extra day. THEN Paul got the stomach flu from Damien and he's home. I'm trying not to scream at the top of my lungs out of frustration, and it's hard. I may be a mother, but I've never claimed to be Motherly! This morning after I took Damien to school I sat in the car for about ten minutes, car off, radio off, just listened to the quiet until I felt able to face hopefully the last day of the sick house. I'll take it where I can get it!

I get annoyed when Paul starts blathering that he thinks he has a fever. I know what he wants, and if I try to ignore him he'll keep it up until I give in and get up and feel his forehead. Almost every time he's never even warm. If I try to just hand him the thermometer he'll say he can't read it on his own so I still have to get off my butt. I've had to stop myself from flicking him in the forehead for bothering me more than once. I really ought to start that. Every time I have to stop what I'm doing to feel his forehead and he's NOT at least moderately warm, I'm going to flick him in the forehead! If I have to pour the Pepto Bismol into the cup for him because he's 'too weak' or too dizzy to stand up and do it himself I'm going to flick him in the forehead! If I have to run to the store because he wants something he knows we don't have I'm tipping myself from his pants pocket...and flicking him in the forehead! Paul's a Leo. He expects to be petted and mollycoddled... I'm just not a coddler at all. I'm a Scorpio and I don't even coddle myself.

Damien on the other hand is also a Scorpio. He hates to be coddled or loved on now that he's older. When he was younger he liked to cuddle on the couch, but he's no longer a little boy. When he's sick he'll put up with a quick hand on the forehead, but after that leave him alone. He's just fine. Give him a little Sprite and chicken soup and leave. He does get lazy and will sit on his bed and yell "Mom!" expecting me to come to him to see a commercial he thinks is funny or has something he wants to own, but never when he's sick. I think part is, like I said, he's a Scorpio, but also I decided when he was born not to treat him like a piece of crystal. I had read an article about a study that said the reason girls were girlie was because they were handled more gently when babies, while boys are handled more...not rough...but less gentle. Adults/parents think a baby boy can 'handle it'. It went on to say that baby boys who were handled like they would break stood a much bigger chance of being more sissy-like. I'm not saying gay! That's how you're born no matter what. I'm just saying they cry when they fall, or just can't handled hard play with other kids. They're just less tough. It's the same with girls. The baby girls who aren't treated like they're made of eggshell will be the tomboys who can keep up with the boys. They grow up to climb mountains or race cars or join roller derby teams.

What I learned?

My bank has a checking account for those 50 and older. Free checking, free checks, interest on money, no minimum amount, discount on safety deposit boxes. First good thing of being 50! ...Yea, I know it has nothing to do with what I wrote above, but I had to get that in! lol

Week Seven (12/22-28)

I keep finding these tiny little silver bells, smaller than a pea, on the bathroom floor. Every time I'd go in there I'd find another one. So far I'm up to thirteen. Now, it's either the mice had a great Christmas party or my son (most likely) tore something up. What it was I have no idea, but that's pretty much par for the course.

I was surprised Damien's favorite Christmas present was the Origami book. He's made one pencil and at least 40 paper cups which are now everywhere. One was the size of my pinkie fingernail. I had to dig out the snow cone maker because he had to see if they would actually hold something. His second favorite gift was the 'bop it XD' He got mad when his dad beat his score, but he thought it was funny when I beat Dad. Now he's beat everyone X's 2 so he hasn't touched it since. Normal child.

I got the ladle I wanted plus coated tongs so I can turn meat in my coated pan. Like I've said before I'm easy to please, so I'm delighted. I was a cheap date when I was dating. In College all it took was a six pack in the hands of a nice guy and I was happy. I've never been 'high maintance' for the men in my life or even myself. When I wasn't dating I'd buy myself flowers. Actually at one time I was the overnight D.J. at an AM radio station. On the way home one early morning I passed a flower shop and saw they had thrown all the wilting flowers outside the front door in a cardboard box. I stopped and pulled out a bouquet of the best and couldn't have been happier. After that I had semi fresh flowers all the time. Sure they didn't last quite as long, but I was always able to replenish them several times a week.

This brings up a point: Why wait for someone else to make you happy? Buy yourself flowers or something special. There's nothing wrong with making yourself happy. Paul and I did this for Christmas. He received a Gift card for Wal-Mart. We decided to spoil ourselves and bought a small chunk of Prime Rib! Then I decided to try my hands at Yorkshire pudding. I can honestly say it was the best I've ever had...of course it was the first I've ever had, but now I can mark that off my list. I'm happiest with small/cheap things and free things. Thrift stores are a wonderland to me, garage sales are great amusement, and when I dig out my more than thirty year old metal detector, every beep is a chance to open a gift waiting in Mother Earth. Found coins are super, but every old chunk of metal I can't recognize might be a Civil War relic. For me it's not the monetary value, but the stories I invent to go with the prize just found. Yes. I'm VERY easy to please!

Lessons learned:

I can't decide. It's either "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder", or "One person's trash is another person's Civil War relic".  All I know for sure is whether it's a $3.00 used Origami book or half-wilted flowers you can find splendor all around.

Week Six (12/15-21)

I decided to buy something "old school" that is slowly going out of style for everyone for Christmas: books. For my best friend Sheila I got a gift certificate to her favorite used bookstore. For Paul it was "The Man In The High Castle" by Richard Dick. I was surprised how expensive a paperback could be, but with the help of my friend the World Wide Web I got a great price. For my son I got two books: Origami for kids, and one on how to fold better paper airplanes. I figure he's going to continue throwing paper all over the floor, so it might as well be folded into something first!

Paul and I have to buy more for Damien. He hasn't bothered to make out a list, but I think that's because this is the first year he doesn't believe in Santa. And he's pissed! I tried to soften the blow when he approached me with a 'I know the truth you lying mom' look in his eyes. I told him, yes, there is no one person who flies all over the world, but there are thousands of people who take on the role and make sure children get something under their tree. He didn't care. I took him to the Army reserve building and pointed at it and said; "This is where parents come every year and pick up presents. There are several hundred 'Santas' in there who love children so much they volunteer their time to make sure Christmas is better for children who's parents need help. When I told him children aren't allowed inside he became upset and said, "Then why did you bring me here! Let's leave!" Later I realized he probably thought Army men were going to burst out of the doors at any minute with guns blazing because I shared the "secret".

He does hold grudges. In First grade he came home from school one day angry at Popeye. He was grumbling under his breath "Stupid Popeye! (grumble grumble)" For two years he refused to watch his Popeye DVDs. I think they had spinach at school for lunch and he blamed the cartoons. Suddenly this last September I walked in the bedroom and he was watching a Popeye cartoon.

I looked at him and then the TV. "I thought you hated Popeye!"

He glanced up a second and said "Yea, I used to, but I like him again."

So far all I've been able to get out of him is he wants batteries for his light swords (he has 4) and a pair of tennis shoes that pump air on your feet when you walk. The last is because he has his dad's sweaty feet. I just hope they have them in 6 1/2! He has giant feet for a 9 year old. I don't know if like puppies big feet mean he'll be tall. His dad is 6' 3"and wears 12's or 13's depending on style. When I was pregnant that was one thing I worried about. The doctor said at 5'6" I'm considered above average for a woman, so even if he took after me he would be around 6'. Paul thinks he's going to be taller that him, almost like a giant. I think he's just worried about the grocery bill when Damien becomes a teenager. Kind of like a "Little Shop Of Horrors" fear: "FEED ME!"

As for me, all I want is a new ladle and some coat hangers. Paul says that's not Christmas type items, but it's what I really want and need. I never have enough hangers to hang everything I want, and my favorite ladle came up broke. I'm not talking a $1 ladle anyway. I'm talking about a Ladle like you would see on a cooking show. One that would last me the rest of my life and beyond. I'll probably get something I don't need, but I tried.

I did ask for a book on how to dry and preserve foods or a book on edible wild plants just in case December 21, 2012 really is bad, but I've looked around myself and can't find any I like. I guess he could get me freeze dried food to store. I once saw freeze dried ice cream at a Army surplus store. Not sure how that works but I'd like to try it! Of course I wouldn't wait until disaster to eat it. Who can NOT eat ice cream!

I finally got our tree up Tuesday. It's one of those little trees with attached lights. It stands three feet tall, and the ornaments Damien has picked out over the years are for a six footer. Some are eight inches long. It's a bit odd looking, but my family is odd, so it fits us to a "T".

One of my Grandparents had a silver tree. There are people, including Paul, who think a tree should be green, but I loved that tree. Whenever I see one I get so happy and the memories of Christmases past flow back including my Grandmother's divinity... I wonder if there's such a thing as freeze dried divinity? That would be an awesomely cool thing to freeze dry! I'm going to check into that!

What did I learn this week?

While I couldn't find divinity, I did find out there's freeze dried cheesecake!

Week Five (12/8-14)

For days I had a Christmas song stuck in my head. The bad part is I could only remember a small fraction of the words, mostly the words that repeated a lot, so what had been going through my brain was:


Ding, dong, ding, dong.... silver bells...caroling...sing something ...merry, merry, merry Christmas....Ding, dong.


I knew there were a lot of other words sung really fast, but it was a faded memory in my old brain. I'd wake up and the first thought was "ding dong...silver bells..." At bed time I was drifting off to: "sing what? Ring a bell? merry, merry, merry, Christmas..."

After several days I remembered I had a computer. I still forget sometimes that answers to questions no longer have to drive you crazy.

I think that having a computer lets you put off that feeling of loosing your mind for a little longer as you age. But will I memorize this song so next year I won't have to be driven crazy? Naw! I have a computer for that!

I want to raise my eggnog in a toast to the Internet for it's help. Thankfully I'm a little less crazy today.

Carol of the Bells [traditional]

Hark how the bells,
sweet silver bells,
all seem to say,
throw cares away
Christmas is here,
bringing good cheer,
to young and old,
meek and the bold.


Ding dong ding dong
that is their song
with joyful ring
all caroling.


One seems to hear
words of good cheer
from everywhere
filling the air.


Oh how they pound,
raising the sound,
o'er hill and dale,
telling their tale.


Gaily they ring
while people sing
songs of good cheer,
Christmas is here.


Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas,
Merry, Merry, Merry, Merry Christmas.
On on they send,
on without end,
their joyful tone
to every home.


Ding dong ding... dong!



What did I learn this week?

Not the words to that song!

Week Four (12/1-7)

I hate going anywhere this time of year mostly because of the Christmas crowds. There's nothing "Holly Jolly" about the people I have run into, sometimes literally. They're deranged isle blockers who's sole purpose is to make others go twenty-five feet to get to where they want to go that is only three feet from where they started.

I wasn't even Christmas shopping nor in the mood to start. I avoided Black Friday like the plague. Actually I have one present bought, but I got that off ebay. Ebay is a great invention! You don't have to leave the safety of your house to get something, and the world is your mall! It was a book I ordered from the UK. Maybe that's one thing about being older: You can still be amazed by the fact that through your laptop you can connect with the world, have your say, or order the perfect gift. I've been told I'm easily entertained, maybe that's why.

After the rough trip Paul bought me some eggnog. Sweet man! It's the one thing I do look forward to every year. I had it for dinner. Nothing else. What else do you need? I hope I'm not the only person who fulfills the childhood rants: When I grow up I'm going to drink all the eggnog I want! When I grow up I'm going to have cake for dinner! When I grow up... what's yours that you do? I tried to get my son to eat his birthday cake for breakfast with milk poured on it and he wouldn't do it. What's with this younger generation!

I got a Christmas card in the mail today and it reminded me of something: We haven't put any decorations up. I know I need to drag them out, it's just they get pushed to the back of the storage room and it means walking over other stuff to get to them. One thing nice is I have several cards from past years from my Mom. I love seeing her handwriting! I guess that is one thing I can't put off any longer. I'll do that first thing tomorrow.

Lessons learned this week?

1. Egg nog still hasn't lost it's joy

2. Christmas shopping never had it.

Week Three (11/24-30)

I just realized "Week Two" was 8 days long, so I'll just start Week Three Thursday night when we drug ourselves back home over fed and with leftovers in tow:

Paul complained on the way home he didn't get any cranberry sauce. You know, the kind that slurps out of the can still shaped like the can? It was there on my sister's table...about six inches from Paul's right arm. He says he didn't see it which I guess since he's 6' 3" tall COULD be true, but I was on his left, right next to him, and I got some. Don't know about him.

Friday dawned with Paul saying he missed sweet potatoes at Thanksgiving and pumpkin pie. Two things my sister forgot. After promising him a Thanksgiving redo we drove up to the Nursing home his Mom has lived at since her stroke. I read an article once about a woman who, like Paul's Mom Judy, lost most of her language after a stroke. After 10 years of therapy she was able to gain her life back, but she said one thing about the experience that she learned and doesn't want to forget was that even though it was hard to communicate, it was a freeing experience. She had no worries of bills, grocery shopping, or even what to wear. She felt totally at peace. When I look at Judy I can see no worry lines on her face, but there is always a smile for her "baby" Paul. After she had had enough of Damien she gave us the "OK" that we understand perfectly and went to Paul's Dad's home.

Bob drives the 30 miles to see and eat lunch with Judy every day. His sister, Melba, now stays with him. They take care of each other. She's a real hoot. Though she uses a cane now she has fierce eyes and a quick laugh. She was Paul's buddy growing up since he was an only child. The one who, I've heard, got him in trouble more than out of it.


She's also someone to study on this journey to refind myself in the world of being 50. Age really is in the mind. When Melba was 50 Paul would have I think been around 15. She got him out of the house and he has told me she was fearless! A good word to remember: Be fearless. You don't have to go jump out of a plane if you don't want to, but get out of bed and GLARE at the day and face it head on. Awesome!


Fixed the promised Thanksgiving Saturday night with the leftover turkey and ham, new stuffing because Damien and I had ate the other, a crust less pumpkin pie because I forgot to buy a crust and wasn't going back to the store for it. And as for the cranberry sauce? It was in the fridge but I forgot to get it out. Now I've had to promise Paul I'll make crepes with my cranberry-butter sauce... Canned cranberries keep for quite a while. No rush.



So what did I learn this week:


1. Paul really likes cranberry sauce!
2. Be fearless today!

Week Two (11/17-24)

This week began with a letter from school saying my son would be out of school from Wednesday 11/23-27. It was one of those moments like in a movie: Everything slows down including the word coming out of my mouth, "Noooooooooo!" Don't get me wrong, I love my son very much. I just LIKE him more when he goes away for a several hours a day five days a week. It's the same with his father. I love him. He's a wonderful man, but he was off Thursday-Sunday. I could say they cramp my style, but actually they cramp my nap. It's annoying.

I did learn I'm not a Hag this week. I was thinking of the Three Stages of Woman. Turns out I'm a Crone...much better.

Stage one is Maiden. That's where you play around and have fun. Since I met Paul when I was 38 my Maidenhood lasted until 40. He was my first real relationship. I had many other boyfriends, but it was all fun and games...Ah! Memories! LOTS of fun!

Stage Two is Motherhood. I became a Mom 12 days before I turned 41. I think for me being older was good. I was having too much fun to be responsible for a child before.

Stage Three as I've mentioned is Crone. It's when your periods stop. Mine have always been hit and miss, usually only in the Spring, so really as long as I have mine this Spring I can just call myself "pre-crone". But I'm still 50, can't change that. Crone is the time a woman is supposed to be a teacher of the young. Guess that's a nice way of saying old women say whatever the hell they want. In a way I'm doing that here, so maybe 'pre-crone' does fit!

My Mother died October 22, 2010, so I've been going to my older/only sister and brother-in-law's house an hour away for Thanksgiving. I was going to take my mother's recipe for ribbon Jell-O and even made some, but it didn't turn out right so we had to eat it (real hardship!). I'll try it again for Christmas.


I learned this week that I need to practice my ribbon Jell-O recipe several more times, even if it's a 'horrible hardship'!