On to the next...

 

Here we are just nine days away from Christmas and then only a week after that – the New Year! Am thinking that I am not the only one thinking that time passes very quickly -- at least sometimes. Am also thinking that I am one fortunate person...for a lot of reasons really.  Case in point...

Just one week ago my son and his family arrived and were able to spend a long weekend with me. My daughter and her family (who live in the same town as I) were able to join in as well. Perfect! Such all-together times are rare. (I love having all my chicks under my apron -- if only for a few marvelous days.)  So fun – a little nuts off and on -- but wonderful all the way around.  For one thing, they surprised me with having arranged for a family photo session – something I have wanted to do for a long time.  Unfortunately, it was a breezy and damp 36º and a bit muddy as we headed through the clumpy pasture -- dotted here and there with patches of slippery snow. Someone thought my old red barn would make the perfect backdrop for the photos.  (I forgive that person. They were right, after all.)  We all survived and although we were coatless for the trek and the photo shoot, no one can see the shivers in the still photos.  All in all, it went just fine and the photographer (Thank you, Barb! - of Be Inspired Photography) was fantastic – managing the 8 of us well… which … had to have been akin to "herding cats" or "being confined in a room with a bunch of wild ferrets".  My family can be somewhat uncontrollable and unpredictable when we are together.  I love that about us. I think we are fun. Anyway – the "sneak peek" photos turned out beyond great.  Can hardly wait to get them all … think I will try to make one of those photo books for each branch of the fam. Update -- was able to download all the photos last evening.  Can you "see" me smiling?  I am. Most definitely.

Anyway - now onward to 2022… hope it will be a new beginning of a better time for all. I am going to try to look forward with just an occasional looking back. I mean -- we all learned a few things during the past couple of years and I may need to touch base once in a while just so I am reminded of all the important lessons I learned. Then there are the important times that need to be remembered ... and ... family times are, obviously, #1 in the important category. Then again -- now that I think of it -- good friends should be included in that category as well. Yes ... Family and Friends -- gifts both. They make up the most important circles of life -- each of us has such circles ... at least one. I cherish them.  Am thinking that you do as well.

Anyway – I wish you all a lovely holiday season and New Year. I hope that you have people with whom to share these times - family and/or friends.  We have all come through the past couple of years and...  survived many challenges.  We cannot give up now.  Right?

Merry Christmas and a Blessed New Year!

 

Never a dull moment...

 

It’s been a nutty few weeks -- annoying, but minor "stuff", in the grand scheme of it all.  We have all had such times.  The thing is ... for me … it is essential to find something humorous at such times.  So… here’s the deal.  The situation involves two, totally separate occurrences.  #1 is the survey that Best Buy wants me to submit, and #2 the shipment of a heavy cylinder of O rings I received from a family-owned company in Texas - O rings that I never ordered. Exhale.

Let’s start with Best Buy and I will make this a painless as possible for you to read.  On October 1^st, after an extensive and exhausting search for a white double wall oven unit to replace my 20-year-old one, I found one online at Best Buy in Erie, PA (44 miles/32.7min) from my home.  Perfect. (White, by the way, is apparently no longer a socially acceptable color in new appliances – totally out of the popular spectrum and therefore almost impossible to find.  So, of course, that is the kind I love the most. It matches my kitchen.  I like what I like and the finish doesn't show fingerprints.)  Anyway – It was delivered and installed on November 1st by two pleasant young fellows sent, for some unknown reason, from Akron, Ohio (150.8 miles/2hrs24 min) from my home.  When they left my house both ovens worked perfectly, but they installed the double ovens leaving them sticking out 2 inches from the wall cupboard – necessary because there was a junction box behind them that needed to be moved and these nice fellows would not/could not move it.  Okay – I understand.  So… I had the junction box moved by others and the oven fit perfectly – except it was discovered in this final process that the Akron installers had broken an important piece that holds the control panel in place – or perhaps it came broken. Who knows?  Duh…  

Long story short – Best Buy has no email address for any customer support so... I wrote them a letter.  I had pictures that I so wanted to attach to an email so that they could “see” the situation.  Crickets. More Crickets. And here I was having taken the time to learn how to move pics from my phone to my PC and how to attach them. Sigh…  So – I contacted the appliance company itself.  They do have a customer support email.  Immediate response. They loved my photos and sent an appliance repairman on December 2^nd.  He ordered the necessary part(s) from his phone and will be back on the 16^th to replace whatever it is that needs to be replaced.  They will bill Best Buy. I had, after all, purchased that pricey five-year- warranty.  Note – I still have heard nothing from Best Buy… except ...  they just sent me a customer satisfaction survey. And guess what – you can attach pictures.  😁 I am going to have fun with this survey for sure. I will let you know if Best Buy actually puts my review on their website.  I am not betting the ranch on it. Oh --Guess what? Update! Best Buy did post my review … and they are sorry – yet -- still did not offer an email address. Said I could chat with them or call.  I am just not into chatting online – the answers seem to be computer generated by a slow-running machine with a human name that doesn’t read well, doesn't grasp what you have already described,  and asks you stupid questions that have nothing to do with the problem. Further…I don’t really have the patience for in-person calling unless it is absolutely the best option for the situation. (You probably noticed this lack of patience in my response to things before this point ….  I get that.)

As for the O rings....  Amazon let me know that the backorder for the weed torch I wanted was cancelled as they could no longer get that particular brand. I found it at this family-owned company in Texas in about three minutes, so I ordered it. To continue -- although Olga, with a smiley face, had checked the order – alas – they had shipped me a heavy cylinder containing a sack of 2” O rings instead of the torch.  I called them (the best option) and who did they connect me to?  Olga.  Olga sounded overworked and shorthanded … but…  we ended up having a lovely chat and she was going to send me the weed torch immediately. I am not holding my breath, but I did believe her.  I like her. We will see.  She said to keep the O rings - for now.  Not sure what that means.  A good friend of mine suggested that I could make jewelry out of them.  Hmmm…  Update!  Huge thanks to Olga.  The Bluefire 32” Weed Torch arrived safely to my porch. I still don’t know what to do with the O rings….  Ideas? I am just hanging onto them --for now.

So…  those two things are on my mind at the moment.  One thing for sure… I would rather think about stuff like this than the current state of affairs politically, or of the anxiety mongering media, or the perpetration of the fears of the damncovid by those “in power”. I am sick of all of that. "Stuff" like that seems to be always there seething under the surface. It may even have something to do with frustration levels and a lack of patience.  Don’t know for sure.

Makin' a list and checkin' it twice...

It’s that time of year – a time of meal planning, gift buying, and -- in the hills of northwest Pennsylvania -- a time for taking the buckboard to town in order to lay in supplies for the stormy winter days ahead (It’s actually snowing a wet, heavy snow as I begin to write this post – accumulating about an inch an hour for a while now. Here we go….) 

Now those of you who have been reading From Pencil Box to Keyboard for a while now know that I am a planner type – some might say – obsessed a bit with structure and very much drawn to list making as if lists had strong gravitational pull. Case in point – my Thanksgiving post just last week was in list format.  I definitely do not fly through my life willy-nilly by the seat of my pants. I am most comfortable with at least some sort of a plan… even if it is vague.  We are who we are….

Anyway – it is that time of year when lists spring up daily in my head and then appear on my kitchen counter. I keep a list tablet there... sometimes more than one.  Also -- In addition to my list of passwords for various websites, I find myself awash in other lists.  There are shopping lists – one per holiday meal - in addition to the regular weekly one. There is a Christmas card address list which needs to be updated soon and a budding list of things I must remember when doing taxes in the all too near future. Then there are the daily To Do lists that sometimes spread over a week and/or across an entire month.  Sometimes I think I need an index list to keep track of all my lists.  It’s that bad.

I confess I am awash in lists for sure. Some people are convinced that we all have these "must do" lists – either mentally, on an electronic device or ... hand written. I prefer the hand written ones because it is fun to pick up a pencil and cross off things as I move through the list. It is satisfying. I have been known to write down something extra and unplanned that I accomplished just so I can cross it off the list. Yes, really.  If it is a chore list, I always start out with the hardest one – you know -- to get it checked/crossed off early and out of the way – off the list. (If I do nothing else all day, at least I did that hard to do thing.)  But – I think we need to remember that there are fun lists too.  I love to think of bucket lists and wish lists, of lists of my goals and of the steps I need to do to get there.

The only thing I don’t really understand is the laundry list.  What is a laundry list? Where did that phrase originate?   Something to do with a laundry for sure. My life has never had laundries.  We always did our own laundry – and that process did not involve lists – only separating whites from darks… and maybe pretreating -- steps in the laundry process that not everyone does anymore - much to my amazement. It also involved me learning to iron starting with my Dad's handkerchiefs. I was 8 and the ironing board seemed very tall. (That was also before steam irons. There was the sprinkle bottle to help you create your own steam, and the irons were heavy -- very heavy.) Remember, too, that was before permanent press.  Boomers understand what that entails - something akin to waking up hill both ways.  Anyway -- calling a list of seemingly unrelated chores a To Do list is simpler for me…  so just check that laundry list question off the question list. Put that on your To Do.  

Happy Thursday!  It is now twenty-three days until Christmas... just in case you weren't counting down.  If you forget the day count, just ask any of your grandkids.  Bet they will know.  They recently made their Christmas Lists.  

Gobble... Gobble...

All pans and casserole dishes at the ready   ✔

Large Platter and carving set located ✔

Great Grandma’s little side fruit bowls washed and dried ✔

All ingredients for everything on the counters ✔

Turkey in fridge thawing ✔

Peanut Butter ice cream pie made and tightly covered in the freezer ✔

Stuffing ready put together and into muffin pans for “stuffin’” muffins ✔

Green bean casserole all set ✔

Grandma Betty’s fruit salad just needs whipped cream ✔

Cheesy/bacon casserole ready to pop into oven ✔

Mashed potatoes set to microwave ✔

Table set ✔

Note written to remember the cranberry sauce this year ✔

House about to smell wonderful ✔

Local family about to arrive ✔

Smile on my face – so much for which to be thankful ✔

 

What did I forget beside cornstarch for the gravy makings?

 

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Gobble… Gobble…

 

 

Short and Sweet...

More than one of my friends have mentioned, from time to time, that they wanted to text or call me, but then realized that it was too late in the day -- even though most normal people would just be getting their second wind. What can I say?  I go to bed early.  Usually up between 3 AM and 4 AM, I am ready for sleep by early evening. I am a morning person. Plus -- it's all about quiet, uncomplicated time. When I was in college I slept in two shifts just so I could have this quiet time. College dorms are not quiet places. I need quiet. I have always needed quiet.

Here's the thing. Time in the predawn hours is not only silent, it is remarkably peaceful. Uncomplicated. About the only sound I hear is the coffee maker and the clicking of the keyboard as I write. If it's cold, I start the fire in the fireplace behind me... so there are those sounds as well.  If I am lucky the occasional owl off in the distance lets me know that it, too, is awake. I like that owl and its haunting hoots. (I like to think that it winters in my little barn.) Anyway -- I can think.  I can watch the sun come up ... a reminder that each day is a new beginning.  Sometimes it is important to think about that.  I am thankful for the start of a new day.  Aren't we all?

The predawn hours are a healing lull before the world comes crashing in.  It is my time. I claim it. Plus - I couldn't sleep in if you paid me... so there is that.  I am who I am. What can I say? I have a suspicion that I am not alone in this. Someone told me once that you need less sleep as you get older.  Not sure that age has anything to do with sleep.  I just know that peaceful silence is a blessing for sure... at any age.

Gun totin' nana....

 

Not a fan of change really… or of trying new foods or even of tasting a teeny bit of things that look icky – like escargot.  I am not a fan of scary things either. It is therefore surprising to me that I recently purchased a Smith and Wesson 380 handgun. Now – I think that handguns are both a big change for me and… very scary. Yes, you read that right – my home is now protected by Smith and Wesson (and so am I).  I need to get a sign for my door that says that.  Some will find that amusing; others perhaps not so much. Don’t care. I am okay with it.

Anyway... the gun, which is, at yet, unnamed, sat around in the box for several weeks while I waited for my gun safety classes to begin.  I took it out once to allow someone else to use it for target practice in order to compare it to a 9mm -- and once to show it to a good friend.  Hesitant to touch it myself, I began to wonder if I were beginning to lose my mind or worse – that I was already too far gone. A handgun? Really?  I mean – those of you who actually know me in the "outside of the blog world" - can you even picture me owning a gun, let alone learning how to shoot or… actually using it?  Well, imagine for a moment, as I have, that you are protecting those you love.  Would you use a gun if you had one handy and knew how to handle it properly?  I am thinking that you would… or that you might.  Plus, I am just ornery enough to use it to protect myself. I notice that I get better at ornery as time goes on. And… I know just where I plan to aim to stop an intruder -- if it comes to that. My son advised me on this and I have given it serious thought.  It's always good to think ahead ... to have a plan.

So – this is what happened. My son gave me some idea of the things that a gun owner should have - and so – off I went to shop for gun related items having no idea whatsoever what I was doing.  Apparently, I was so engrossed in reading the labels on everything that I became an annoyance to another customer… a nice man… yet … a man with limited patience.  I had no idea he was there behind me… until he did the polite “ahem” thing.  He looked at me from behind his mask and asked nicely if he could just pick out everything I would need. He asked me what kind of gun I had and then took everything I had in my hands and put it back on the shelves. It took him about a minute to find everything I needed - explaining each item to me as he went.  I thought him to be very nice until he told me not to be embarrassment to my grandson when we took the handgun safety class together.  I didn’t like him so much after that. But I digress....   My son also sent me a cool shooting supply bag in which to store everything and gave me advice on ammunition, etc.  We plan to shoot together when he is home for the holidays.  It will be a bonding experience.

So – time passed and I found myself standing at a shooting range in between my son-in-law and grandson.  It felt like I was in standing between two strong guardians. I like that feeling and once again wished that my son didn’t live so far away, so he could have been there too.  He, too, is so fun and ... patient ... as well.  Anyway – the instructor has no limit to his kindness and patience with a gun toting Nana, and I learned a lot of important things. (The other men at the range  -- standing as far away as possible from me -- were total gentlemen -- although I think I may have heard some muffled signs of amusement - nothing even close to snickering though -- which was kind.) Nevertheless -- I am looking forward to more lessons.  By the way – I shot better than my grandson who may be an excellent shot on the Trap Team, but is new to handguns.   12 of the 16 bullets I shot actually hit my target and the one time I shot using a fancy pistol with one of those red dot things, I actually hit the bullseye center – all of this without my glasses.  Yep… I figure I am on my way, partner…. Must also mention that a dear friend of mine happened to call me this week (always so good to hear her voice) and when I told her about my gun and that I was writing about it – she totally took it in stride and said that she, too, has seriously considered "packin’ heat". That would make two white haired ladies one would not want to underestimate. That is just one thing that I love that about her. She has always been a feisty one.  I love feisty - at any age.  

By the way – if you plan to stop over after dark or in the middle of the night... text first just to be on the safe side.  Also, by the way, both my son-in-law and grandson said that I definitely had not embarrassed them.  Nice. Very nice.

Must be that time of year...

 

Here we are in the first week of November.  We will be turning back the clocks in just a couple of days.  Here we go again….  For those of us in snow country, we enter these days with a bit of annual trepidation.  It doesn’t help this year that the two Farmers' Almanacs offer different predictions about how hard the winter will be. But – hearty stock – we do take pride in surviving the winds of autumn followed by the snow and ice fest to come. We talk about it a lot. Our weather becomes a part of who we are in these parts. We go into a sort of survival mode and are proud of it. I also like to remember winters of years past as well.  The winters seem lighter somehow -- or maybe I am just taller.  No, actually – that cannot be it. I am getting shorter. Relate to that?

Anyway – come the end of October or the beginning of November each year, being the creature of habit that I am, I start thinking about preparing an Agenda for the upcoming year. My preference? At-a-Glance monthly.  With this particular type of Agenda, I am able see an entire month of things I want to remember – like upcoming birthdays, anniversaries, etc.  I have used a monthly agenda for years.  My Grandkids call it nana's brain.  I love that.  They are, in fact, closer to the truth than they may realize.

So – as is my tradition - I sat down at the dining room table on a dreary, rainy October day and began to mark my At-a-Glance 2022 monthly calendar with all “my” important dates.  I use green for birthdays and anniversaries.  I sometimes put the age of the person in parenthesis following their name as the years tend to get away from me. My grandson was in one of those what I call nippy nappies on my counter yesterday and today he bends down to give me a hug. Back to the point -- I use red ink to indicate when taxes are due, and other dates that I need to remember to keep me out of prison. You know that kind of date.  Heaven knows we have made enough tax deadlines and scheduled enough car inspections over the years to know their importance. I fill in the rest of the important stuff as I go along day by day. At the end of the month, I look back in wonder at how many things I actually accomplished...or not.

As I worked on this project moving from the cluttered and detailed 2021 to the blank slate of 2022, it was  fun to read what all went on last year… a lot of one-year anniversaries of damncovid highlights.  Just think we are approaching year three now.  Good grief. Anyway – I have a tendency to stuff important papers and to stick post-it notes on my Agenda and guess what I found?   I found two post-its with messages that I want to share with you. 

The first is an excerpt that I apparently found in a Mindful magazine at some point.  I vaguely remember the article – it was about what the writer described as mindful self-compassion rather than self-judgement.  The quotation I obviously wanted to remember?  “Learn to be kind to your imperfect self.”  I think this one works on a couple of different levels. Right?

I didn’t write down the source of the words on the second post-it.  Drat that.  I tried to Google it, but all I came up with was a Buddhist 12 step program and a similar sentiment on a T-shirt. Now Buddhists are known for their mindfulness so maybe it came from the same article as the first post-it.  Wish I knew where to give credit. Anyway -- these words take it a step further:

        Be kind to yourself. Be Present. Face it.

        One breath.

        One thought.

        One choice at a time.

I love the message on both of these post-it notes.  I see why I jotted them down. The thing is, as I move forward on my journey this time around, I like, more and more, to sit with things for a while.  You know what I mean? To think deeply about, to mull…. I figure I will get there eventually.  If not – I have enjoyed the process. And -- isn’t “mull” a fun word?  It sort of lingers in your throat when you say it out loud – it sounds like what it means... and it is a soft and gentle sound. I think we need more soft and gentle these days.  I have been giving that notion quite a bit of thought lately.   

Mrs. McGillicuddy, et al...

 

Some names become representative of a type of person -- so much so that a name may come to conjure up a stereotypical image. This is not fair really and often it is inaccurate.  Nevertheless, I don’t know of anyone who would name a sweet baby girl Marie Antoinette, and it seems that the name Karen (a perfectly lovely name) is now experiencing a burst of unpopularity in some circles.

Nurse Ratched of One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest has come to refer to any woman who appears to be cold, heartless and ... scary.  Mrs. McGillicuddy of I Love Lucy comes to mind when thinking of Edith Bunker and the like – "… dimwitted, scatterbrained, but still loving…” and loveable.  Gladys Kravitz - of Bewitched is now any nosy neighbor.  Sort of fun really to think about. These examples are obviously linked to the Baby Boomer generation although some overlap occurs  -- some do span generation gaps. There are reruns after all....

Baby Boomers (born 1946-1964) will probably recognize them all.  Not sure what names would do the same for all the letter generations.  You know who I mean. Generation X (born 1965-1980, Generation Y (the Millennials we hear so much about these days (born 1981-1995), and Generation Z (born 1996-2010).  I mean Z – really?  Where does one go after being the last letter in an entire alphabet? (Generation Z is apparently also referred to as the New Silent Generation.  Again I repeat -- really?  Doesn’t seem fitting somehow.)  Who does this generation naming?  Anyway – back to my question of where does one go after the end of the alphabet?  It seems that you start with a different alphabet.  Those born 2011-2025 are now being called Generation Alpha.  Heavy….  So now you know.

I think it is interesting though that names also come to have meanings and associations of a personal nature. If your childhood and lifelong best friend’s name is Mary, I am thinking you will always associate good things with that name. Mine is and I do. The reverse is also true – in my experience.  For example, the name Stella has majorly negative connotations for me.  Stella was the name of my Great Grandfather’s second wife. Stella was the housekeeper and my great grandfather married her some years after the passing of his first wife. Stella was hateful toward and mean to my Mom, so I don’t like her. Never knew her. Doesn't matter. She died long before I was born.  Doesn’t make a difference.  I don’t like her.   I don't like the name Stella. It’s that simple. Perhaps a bit more info will clarify - my Mom was forced to leave her grandfather’s home at the age of 16, with just the clothes on her back, never to return again.  Why?   ... because she, in a moment of desperation, frustration, hurt and anger, etc., smashed a bowl of mashed potatoes into Stella’s face during Sunday dinner and then had the audacity to refuse to apologize.  It’s a long story really, but I always loved the spunk of it all. Stella deserved the mashed potatoes. Trust me on that. I should mention that my mom, prior to this, had lived her entire life with her grandfather.  Heartbreaking really when you think about it. I picture a sad young girl -- standing alone - outside the door.  No wonder my Mom was big on saying – pull yourself up by your boot straps and get on with it.   Yep, I will always think of the name Betty as spunky -- with all its positive connotations.   I so admire gumption. And speaking of the name Betty -- that wasn't my Mom's given name.  She found out when she left her grandfather's home that her real name was Clara... Her last name was different too... but... that is another story. Names are interesting -- on several levels.

 

 

Beware of Goblins...

 

Remember Chicken Little?  As I recall -- Chicken Little is strutting and pecking around the barnyard when an acorn falls and hits her on the head.  Quick to react, as chickens tend to be, she naturally assumes that the sky is falling and although she has no idea where to go, she runs off to find Lion, who, she is certain, will be able to save them all.  First, she runs into Henny Penny and then Ducky Lucky, and after frantic explanation on her part, they quickly join her in her quest – no questions asked. All three, trusting souls that they are, run blindly off together having no idea where they are going, and are, as such, most relieved to encounter Foxey Loxey along the way. Because he “knows” the way to Lion – or so he says – they trustingly follow him.  Now we all know that they come to a bad end.  The story concludes, “They all go in, but they never, never come out again.”  And so it goes – yet another terribly frightening children’s story -- like “Hansel and Gretel”, or “Little Red Riding Hood”. Then also -- there is the old James Whitcomb Riley poem “Little Orphant Annie”.  Ah… the ever-strong, repetitive line: “An’ the Gobble-uns ‘ll git you ef you Don’t Watch Out! (And … Yes … that is the way that Riley spelled those words. Somehow annoying, isn’t it?)  Anyway – scary stories for children -- cautionary tales all. Anything we could we learn from them? Hmmm…

The thing is ... all of this makes me think of how nice, well-intentioned people are taken advantage of in our current world by much of the print media, visual media and politicians – on every side of an issue.  There is no escape. Like Foxey Loxey, these villains know exactly what they are doing when they focus on the negative and lure people into dens “… from which they never, never come out again.” Journalists and politicians use fear as the grand motivator … fear sells more articles, increases the ever-desirable ratings and gets more votes. Pause and think for a minute of the times you have observed this. Plus, there is the added bonus (especially for politicians) that fearful people are easily controlled and lured into a kind of group think situation. But beware…  and as you may have observed lately and throughout your entire life … groups tend to make more extreme decisions than an individual would ever make. The mob mentality that leads to vandalism and to cities burning is just one such example. Scapegoating the unvaccinated is another.  Group think in the extreme is not a good thing -- ever. It may be because of the safety in numbers “thing”, but group think decisions tend to be not only more extreme, but also more illogical and irrational than those made by independent thinking of individuals. In group think people get swept away – caught up in things. They sometimes regret it later. Their fear, stoked by the Foxey Loxeys of the world, gets the best of them.  They ignore the mutability of Science ...  We all need to beware of Goblins of all sorts ….

The optimist side of me hangs onto the thread that perhaps there is hope that people will learn -- even if it is from a children’s story.  I mean – think of it – isn’t teaching one of the goals of a children’s story like these -- cautionary tales that they are? No one wants to be Chicken Little. No one wants a goblin to get them.  Hopefully it is a small number who want to be Foxey Loxey.  Right?

Shime vs Shame...

 

Sometimes I walk in the early morning in the parking lot of a local church – it’s flat and easy with the added bonus that if I fall down and break something, someone will eventually find me.  It is also a little boring except for the bunnies there.   So … I listen on my phone to Podcasts to ease the sameness of walking continuously in a large rectangle.  There are a lot of good ones on Podcast Player, but for some reason I prefer the ones I have checked out on Spotify.  When I need a break from the creepy ones on the supernatural, unsolved mysteries, real crime, deathbed confessions, psychics, conspiracy theories, etc. I turn to self- improvement ones on topics such as developing critical thinking skills, etc.   My favorite of these is The Jordan Harbinger Show. If the "audio only" doesn’t do it for you, you can actually watch the interviews on YouTube. 

Jordan Harbinger does interviews with a huge variety of really smart and interesting people and covers all sorts of topics – too numerous to get into here ... except to say that the ones with real life spies are super good.  Recently I listened to an old interview with BJ Fogg, a research associate and author.  He and Jordan were talking about making changes and creating healthy habits and one thing sort of screamed at me. I want to share it with you -- just in case you, like me, tend to beat yourself up – sort of a self-trash-talking thing – when you are trying to make a change in how you do something or to break a habit of some sort.  His take on things is to switch the channel, so to speak, and to approach the whole change/habit one tiny step at a time – all the while concentrating on what makes you feel good about the situation rather than focusing on the bad and the failures.  Sounds simple, doesn’t it?

The thing is, if I understand correctly,  that feeling good about what you are doing – like in the change that you are making – is a better motivator than guilt inducing self-criticism (#belittling yourself).  Even trying counts. In other words –stop the self-trash-talk.  In fact – he has research results indicating that feeling good about and celebrating (feeling good about) each small step of the change is more effective in developing new habits than repetition (as many of us were taught)  … and ... it is certainly more effective than criticizing oneself.  He also gives helpful hints on how a person goes about making these changes -- what tiny steps to actually take. He gives examples. Well worth a listen… especially if you are, right now, trying to make important changes or to break bad habits… or habits you have labeled as bad.

He labels the emotional results of this positive approach a “shine”.  I like to think of it as a “shime” as in the opposite of a “shame”. My “shime” is not to be confused with the town in Japan (Shime) or with the acronym for the Simulator of Human Intestinal Microbial Ecosystem (SHIME).  We need to be careful about words these days ... especially when one makes them up -- or thinks she does.  Anyway -- the whole idea of making positive changes one tiny step at a time and celebrating (being mindful of and feeling good about) each step works for me.  I am using that approach as I move through cleaning out five closets.  Three down; two to go. Honest. It’s working beautifully and I am making positive changes and breaking some iffy habits as far as saving old stuff/sometimes junk goes. Drawers are next.  Goal in the drawer scenario? To get down to just one drawer for odds and ends that I may need someday.  I like it.  I am "shiming" through the change and maybe breaking some "bad" habits as well. Or at least I am having fun trying. I think smiling (if possible) is always better than the alternatives.

My Body. My choice.

 

Happened to catch multiply reports on the Women’s March(es) 2021 on various “news” channels over the past few days.  Although the slant of the “reporting” varied somewhat, the placards and chants did not.

Of particular interest to me were the placards that read “Keep Your Laws Off My Body” and the loud chanting of “My Body, My Choice!”  They both refer to women’s right of choice in the abortion issue. Hmmm…

Methinks that the same could be said about mask and vaccine mandates. Now – in anticipating the argument that abortion and pandemic concerns are two separate and different issues… that masks and vaccines protect the world.  I say – what about protecting the unborn?

Yet--- I also say in regards to masks and vaccines… My Body, My choice. I would add -- Your Body. Your choice. It seems that not everyone respects the choices of others these days. Beyond sad really. It's not what I would expect in the United States of America.

Life is complicated and contradictory – especially in these times. Conflicts of all sorts abound.  I keep struggling to figure it out. Once again …  I am thinking that I am not alone in this. I am watching and listening.

Don't judge. Just smile.

 

I have one son and I feel that I can write about him because, although some of you may remember him from his youth, he lives far away now and you won’t be running into him in Walmart.  He does tend to read my blog though so…  perhaps it is a good thing he lives far away… in this case.  Anyway ... I find him to be hysterically funny.  Actually, my daughter is mega funny as well.  It’s a blessing -- although family gatherings readily turn into laugh fests which can be hard on your stomach muscles after a while. You see they both married super funny people and my grandchildren are funny as well.  It can be exhausting… but so worth it... so much fun!

Anyway – my son has a propensity for group texting which I do find annoying when he starts goofing around near my bedtime.  It’s hard to resist following along and participating even though I sometimes tell him to GO TO BED or sometimes I just resort to sleep texting.  He does this group text thing in the mornings, as well, which works well for me and for his sister. His wife does not appreciate the early morning text fests though – she is like "normal" people and sleeps until a decent hour or at least when she can. (Sometimes I wish I could do that.) Good thing she also has a well-developed sense of humor and can put up with the rest of us. Good thing we can appreciate our differences.  We are who we are. Right? I am thinking that my son-in-law just ignores us all in this group texting phenomena especially when the occasional group text happens during the day. He is, perhaps, wise to do so. Plus -- he does a lot of his work on his phone during the day time and doesn't have any goof off time.  It's not a toy after all.  Anyway -- it’s all good.

So…  recently my son group texted this creepy looking meme that says, “At my funeral, take the bouquet off my coffin and throw it into the crowd to see who is next.”  Of course, sharing the same sick twist sense of humor, we thought this was very funny and found appropriate emojis with which to respond.  Now to catch you all up a bit and to get to the point…  when we were all together this summer – enjoying a walk in the back pasture of my small plot of land (a place I cherish because of the quiet beauty of it all) – I told my children that when I move on to the next "realm", I want to be burned up and sprinkled.  It’s simple really.  I think they should just take my ashes, load them somehow into something like a t-shirt cannon and then blast me into the air in that same back pasture and watch me float and scatter across one of my favorite places.  All they need to do is be careful not to look up with their mouths open.  Seriously -- I think it is perfect.  Unfortunately, I don’t think they believe me... or maybe are a bit horrified at the notion.  My son laughs (sort of), but finds my idea to be dark somehow – even darker that the meme he sent – the one I just told you about.  So – I am telling the world – just burn me up and sprinkle me somewhere I love to be. No fanfare – just let me rejoin the earth.  Don’t judge. Just smile. To be scattered is somehow fitting. Each one of us is, after all, just a small part of the whole.

 

Sometimes...

 

                                         “Sometimes.” said the horse.

                        “Sometimes What?” asked the boy.

                             “Sometimes just getting up 

                                      and carrying on is

                                  brave and magnificent.”

 

Recently a dear friend gave me a book entitled The Boy, the mole, the fox and the Horse.  Maybe you have read it.  If not, I think it is worth anyone’s time.  It was written and illustrated by Charlie Mackesy, who among a long list of accomplishments, also, at one time, was a cartoonist for The Spectator and a book illustrator Oxford University Press. It is a very short easy read, and some may think of it as a children’s book, but like so many “children’s” books, it speaks to adults as well.  The lines above this paragraph are from this book and I started off with them as they call to mind the silent heroes among my students of the past. I can remember standing among them in the moments before class started and thinking how amazing it was that some of them made it to school at all.  They were my silent heroes - sometimes overcoming indescribably hard situations to even get themselves to school… situations that they never talked about – ever.  But … their stories were in their eyes.

Anyway – once in a while I like to share good “reads”.  I know that I recently shared with you that I was reading a series by Louise Penny, a Canadian writer whose work has helped me survive this pandemic.  I think I am currently in book 15 of what is now a 17-book series.  I hope she keeps on writing them, as I am totally enthralled with all the characters of the little mysterious village of Three Pines and... her writing is thought -provoking.  I have also been spending time with Sue Monk Kidd, Tana French and Kate Morton.  Wonderful all – each in her own way.  I don’t know about you, but I am thankful that I can read and that someone can write.  It’s a lovely partnership. 

Reach out...

 

A few weeks ago now I had a very special week.  On Monday I had lunch with a childhood friend and the very next day four of my cousins came to my house for brunch.  There is something very special about the memories you share with a friend of almost 65 years and with family… yes, something very special. I have written before about how sharing part of your childhood creates a special bond between people and being a part of family has its own special and uniquely wonderful connections as well. 

Part of the fun for me in both situations is retelling favorite stories and listening to them being retold as well.  It is a bit of a liturgy really. These stories are a part of a customary “repertoire” of things of the past.  People are fortunate to have them… and even more fortunate to be able to tap into them once in a while. They are worth repeating.  They remind us to remember. 

Sitting across my kitchen table from my childhood friend (notice I did not say old friend?), I was transported back to early morning chats with her dad while sitting in the booth in their kitchen while I waited for her to get ready to go to school with me. She reminded me that he used to tease me about things. I remember everything.  I remember his voice and her mom moving around their kitchen in her “pumps”. We talked about her mom’s love of gadgets.  I remember them all. Such memories are a gift. We share many memories – years and years of them – not that that is the only thing we talk about. That is another whole gift – being able to share thoughts without any guard up whatsoever. Childhood friends know who you are at the core... and sometimes it is a case of -- they like you anyway. I am fortunate in that. 

There are special family times as well – worthy of repeating.  I wish more of my cousins lived closer and that we had even more childhood memories to recall and share. We shared a common growing-up and knew older relatives of several previous generations – we share our memories sometimes with differing perspectives.  It is a bond. It is friendship of it own special kind. It is also mega fun. Plus -- they are just plain wonderful people.

All of this calls to mind the most special of all though -- the liturgy of stories my sister and I used to share or the silly songs that we made up or remembered and that carried on into adulthood.  We would bring them out at the most inopportune, surprising and sometimes inappropriate times.  There would be a sudden burst of song and the other would join in.  My son told me one time that I was a different person when I was around Aunt Cindy.  (I still find that amusing. Guess he wasn’t used to me/us suddenly breaking out into the old Nestles’ Quik song as it was sung by the charming Farfel.) Sometimes you just had to be there…” Her birthday was September 11th. (So much more to remember on that day now since 2001.)

Anyway – the part about this that “hangs on” is that it is not the same with her gone now. Life is short and unexpected.  I guess I just want people to share with friends and family as much as you can while you can.  Haven’t we heard this kind of warning before? Perhaps many times?   There is a reason why we have. 

Was talking with another high school friend later on in that same special week. She was in town for a brief visit and a family reunion. What a lovely way to spend an afternoon.  We covered a lot but did focus, for one brief moment, on loss and how it touches everyone at some point in their lives. Now in our 70’s… loss is perhaps too familiar. Yet -- it is a part of it all.

Add me to the list of those who issue the warning to reach out to those you love.

The Panda, The Sloth and The Blobfish...

 

Somehow the topic of spirit animals found its way into a conversation a couple of days ago, and as a result, I set aside the blog post that I was going to put up this week so that I could share this one with you. Now – just in case you are not familiar -- according to one source, a spirit animal may be “… a teacher or messenger that comes in the form of an animal and has a personal relationship with an individual”.  Sort of nice, right?  Right now, as I type in the predawn hours, I can hear my favorite owl hooting off and on from some far away perch. I love that sound. I find it comforting somehow.

Anyway – finding it somewhat amusing that the person I was talking to said that her spirit animal was the sea turtle, it was with the best intentions really that I started to research what mine might be.  Now in her case almost every quiz she took online said that the sea turtle was her spirit animal. I would have felt better about that if she lived closer to a sea, but it is what it is. I had to look up what a sea turtle even looks like.  There are several different kinds actually, and you can even adopt one ... symbolically of course. The adoption kit will set you back $60 - $250 according to the website I discovered, but there are cute gift bags involved. It's a personal choice.  I will not be adopting one. ~~ Somehow, I still don’t quite see the sea turtle for her, but perhaps I am missing something. I am a novice in this whole realm after all.

So – back to my search.  I started with quizoto.com and discovered that my spirit animal is a panda.  Although the panda is cute, I am not comfortable with that (just don’t feel the connection), so I kept looking. Buzzfeed.com identified my spirit animal as a sloth.  Now – I can see slothful characteristics in my tendency to occasionally live in what I call Slugsville and sloths do have cute faces which make them appealing on some level, but – I don’t know -- a Sloth? They just hang around -- literally.  I decided to take yet another quiz. They are remarkably easy to find and I had the time.

It seems to be commonly accepted that you can find anything on Pinterest, so that was my next and final stop in the search. Here is what happened.  This particular quiz identified my spirit animal as a Blobfish. Look it up – not exactly cuddly – blobfish are found in deep waters off the coast of Tasmania and Australia. Never one to find fish of any sort attractive, the blobfish brings "icky looking" to a whole new level. The Pinterest quiz not only identified the blobfish as my spirit animal, but went on to say this about me… and I quote, so please don’t think that I talk like this – because I don’t – well almost never.  It said that I was “f *cking nasty as hell and… ugly. …need nose surgery… and have no friends. Sorry ☹.”  Yep – that’s what it said. It sort of caught me off guard and then -- after the shock wore off -- I found it to be "laugh out loud" funny. I especially love the “Sorry” with the frowny face at the end. Nevertheless, I discontinued the search through online quizzes. Enough time on that. I am thinking that these particular quizzes are about as accurate as Dr. Google.

Here’s the thing. Native Americans have a much more serious and kinder way that one can determine his/her spirit animal. Plus, they only have 8 common ones – so much easier.  There is a lot written about it actually.  So – I have determined my spirit animal.  You can pick one too.  Anyone can.  It’s sort of nice really.  No surprise here – I have chosen the owl. It feels right somehow.

Hands...

 

For some unknown reason, I noticed my hands today, and … once again thought to myself how very much they are like my Mother’s hands in her later days.  It is a bit startling to see that as I somehow tend to think that I am at least forty years younger than I actually am – until I catch a glimpse of my aging self in a mirror as I walk by or if… as I just mentioned… I notice my hands for a moment. Years ago, my sister caught a glimpse of herself in her foyer mirror and thought she saw our grandmother.  She immediately made an appointment to have her hair colored. I found the whole episode hysterically funny for some reason – perhaps it was the way she was retelling it. Perhaps it was because I remember what this particular Grandma looked like – sort of scary. Oddly enough though I cannot remember this grandma’s hands.  Anyway … we all cope in different ways. I for one, tend not to look in mirrors unless it is totally unavoidable like when brushing teeth or blow-drying hair. Further… I am too lazy to do anything with the color of my hair.  It is what it is and I have other things that I am concerned about.  As far as sitting in front of a lighted mirror at a hairdresser goes -- about all I can stand is an occasional overdue haircut. But that’s just me.  At least at a hairdresser, one can tuck hands under the cape thing.

Anyway -- really seeing my hands and likening them to my Mom’s got me to thinking about hands in general – with a special focus on women’s hands. I mean – just think of all the things that a woman’s hands do in one lifetime. The list would go on seemingly forever. Most of the things I thought about were about hands doing things for other people.  It’s amazing really.  I was watching my daughter braid her daughter’s hair just the other day.  It was somehow wonderful to see – poignant moments. Then too, I recently saw a grandmother wiping away the tears of one of her grands… also touching and memorable -- in a comforting, reassuring kind of way.  I think it is important sometimes to think of these little (maybe not so little) things.  We all know of the bigger things that hands can do… also important, but maybe these apparently “little things” are every bit as significant…or even more so…. I am certain that men’s hands are also worthy of consideration – just not in this blog today – maybe some other time. Odd though -- I always think that, a lot of the time, men's hands age better and look young longer. I guess they work differently.

Those of you who have grandkids have probably noticed their hands as they grow.  My grandson, whose tiny hands fit inside a small pocket of my hand at one time, now has man hands. They are remarkable and strong.  There isn’t much that he cannot do well. How did that happen so quickly?  It’s startling. My granddaughter is teaching herself how to play the ukulele, does her own nails and always very dexterous, makes light work of braiding her own hair, and… of drawing remarkable pictures. She is the artist of her generation as my mom was of hers – only my granddaughter got an earlier start.  She used to draw two different pictures at the same time when just old enough to hold a pencil or a crayon – one in each of her tiny hands.  It was rather amazing to see. I asked her about that just the other day.  She doesn’t remember. Kids forget stuff too.  There is something reassuring about that these days.  Anyway…

My hope is that I will have used my hands to create – whether it was to do all those things that make a clean and warm, safe haven for loved ones, or to write helpful, thought-provoking words and questions over the years to students finding their way, or... in my own writing as I look inward in finding my own way and encouraging others to know that we are all in this together. 

One last thought about hands.  My poor hands have never been so washed and scrubbed as they have been during the past 18 months or so. I even taught my grandkids and my great niece what I call the surgical scrub. We try to make things fun, right?  I have used up a lot of hand cream as well.  Haven’t we all? Aren’t we sick of it? By the way -- I have already started to shake hands again.  I wondered if I ever would. Then again -- I could only last one week of this damncovid without hugging my grandkids.  

Buh...Buh... Buh...

 

Using an explosive “b” (as in buh, buh, buh)... and way too much repetition … 

Needing a big break from the bleak blunders and blurry blasts of build back better… I come to you today with a few questions.

•      Did we anticipate that a lot of what we cherish had to be destroyed in order to build back better?
•          Did we have to allow one large country in Central Asia collapse and at the same time potentially desert Americans and allies in order to build back better?
•          Did we have to make our great nation become weak and disrespected across the entire world in order to build back better?
•          Did we have to annihilate the fuel independence of the United States in order to build back better?
•         Did we have to let a booming economy slide toward recession in order to build back better?
•         Did we have to allow – even encourage crime to run rampant in order to build back better?
•         Did we have to increase consumer prices across the board – in food, travel, gasoline, and vehicle prices in order to build back better?
•          Did we have to allow open southern borders and thus enhance the spread of the damncovid throughout unexpecting and generous communities throughout the country in order to build back better?
•         Did we have to try to cram through legislation that will create debt that generations to come will struggle to pay in order to build back better?

To add insult to injury, just as promised, we will get to pay for all of this with increased taxes.   You know – -- to build back better.

·         Just what does it mean to build back better?

·         Do we have to ignore/put down/sabotage all that is good about our   country to build back better?

·         When does the good part of build back better begin?

I wait with bated breath while I watch biden’s back as he turns and walks away from the American people and perhaps heads to his basement bunker… as usual.  One final question.  Who is it that instructs the President to answer only questions from designated members of the press?  Who has that power? Who prepares his answers? Better believe that is baffling.  Okay – enough.