Escape to The Box Store...

I am trying not to write about the article I read that describes the current "dystopian" situation of our nation as falling somewhere between Orwell's 1984 and Homer's land of the lotus-eaters.  The following is the result of that effort to escape current events ....

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So – recently when my grands had a day off from school, their mom invited me to tag along with them while making a trip to a box store about 30 miles from where we live … always a fun adventure that I love to share with them. We try to do it at least two times a year.  I think of it as restocking the larder (one of my grandmother’s words that I have always found amusing for some dumb reason). 

We have shared such outings for many years now. There was a time when my daughter and I each had a child in our own cart. We would tuck the kids into the deep part of the carts and move them around among the items as we shopped – eventually they would be sitting (perched) on top of large boxes of stuff. It was at times to the point that they were about to tip out  – hanging on for dear life. They thought that to be wonderful fun and had a game of some sort involving "package cannons". I never quite understood the rules.  If antsy, they would run around and were usually quite good about staying within sight.  We never really lost either one of them… well… not for very long anyway. Now that my grandson in way taller than I am and my granddaughter is just a bit shorter – those days are gone. No more perching.  No more package cannon. Now – they help lift heavy stuff and select treats for the pantry.  It’s all good.  They also help unload when we get home which is huge.  Plus – they never get lost in the store anymore either – which makes these trips less stressful. They have become expert tasters of the free samples that are sometimes offered from place to place as one moves throughout the warehouse. It’s fun.

I just have to share this one more thing while I have the picture in my mind .... We have been dragging those kids with us for their entire lives.  Good sports both. When my grandson was really little and before he had a sister, I remember packing him into his car seat and then loading perennials into the back seat around him and into the cargo area behind – totally surrounding him.  I can still see his smiling little face peering out like ET in the closet.  He is a most tolerant person. His sister is as well.  Good times.

Ah -- the good olde days. In some ways it seems like yesterday. I used to pack snacks and drink boxes for them with an occasional toy or something to amuse them along the way. Nowadays, we tend to stop at Panera’s for lunch after we shop and cell phones provide entertainment while riding - if needed.  I sort of miss the snack wrappers and empty drink box days, but the car stays cleaner…so there is that.  

Growing up happens so quickly. But then .... you know that.

Big brothers... little sisters...

Having worked with my share of teenagers for almost 30 years, I understand what the Swedish author, Fredrik Backman, is saying when describing a person of that particular age in one of his novels. Backman writes: “…a teenager..., with all the divinely sanctioned charmlessness and impoliteness this entailed, sat at one end of the table like an irritable accessory”.  And – although I love that description and have encountered such surliness over the years, it is somewhat stereotypical and not one I have encountered with my own preteen and teenage grandkids. In fact, I find them fun to be around and to be active participants in my life. One grandson, having navigated those teenage years with success, is now classified as an adult. Where does the time go? Anyway -- moving on as time tends to do -- all my grandkids are clever and have great senses of humor -- humor that they are not afraid to share. The following is a case in point.

Just last weekend my one teenage grandson texted me a “phone photo” of his little sister asleep in the car as they were traveling on a family outing. She is eleven.  I didn’t notice it at first, but after he texted me the second time with a painstakingly kind explanation, I noticed that he had carefully stacked several coins on her sweet, little preteen forehead. There she was -- sound asleep -- a little angel with thick braids... and a large stack of coins protruding from her head. (How did I not notice that at first glance?  I guess I was admiring her shiny thick braids.)  Anyway -- after I stopped laughing, while at the same time wondering what she would later describe as waking up to coins raining down her face, I texted him that his uncle would be proud.   You see  -- his uncle was/is a big brother with a little sister too handy not to torment while growing up. Especially when they both were still living at home, he always found teasing to be something he could not resist. One of his favorite things for a while was to just pick her up and move her if he wanted the spot where she was sitting -- a tendency that she found most annoying.  Is this a big brother syndrome of some sort? Is being the target of teasing merely a part of being the little sister? Or – does it just run in my family?  You tell me. 

I, personally, never had a big brother… although … I did have a close family friend who seemed to love to torment me off and on… sort of like a brother.  But the thing is – I could escape from him as we didn’t live in the same house.  My daughter and granddaughter didn’t/don’t have that option.  Even now that both my kids are adult and on their own -- just this week my daughter’s big brother posted nutty pictures on Facebook in “honor” of his little sister’s birthday. It continues.  I have to say that I eagerly await the payback. At this stage that sort of thing is really sort of fun.

As I do tend to look on the bright side, the thing is that I personally think it is a blessing to grow up with a big brother in that it sort of forces the little sister to develop a sense of how to cope with such antics. I am thinking, for example, that my granddaughter at least was able to keep the forehead coins. Hope so. That would be a plus. Both my daughter and granddaughter are much better sports about things like this than I am. Is it because of the big brother thing?  Just askin’. 

Grief is a shared journey.

My sister died four years ago this week.  In looking back through her posts on Facebook in an attempt to recapture shared moments, I rediscovered the following that she posted on January 31, 2016. These words speak to me, and I am thinking they may speak to you as well. After all as some wise person once said -- we may each travel the road differently, but grief is a shared journey.

from the Deep Grief Great Love Group – posted on January 28, 2016:

Let me be crystal clear: if you’ve faced a tragedy and someone tells you in any way, shape or form that your tragedy was meant to be, that it happened for a reason, that it will make you a better person, or that taking responsibility for it will fix it, you have every right to remove them from your life.

Grief is brutally painful. Grief does not only occur when someone dies. When relationships fall apart, you grieve. When opportunities are shattered, you grieve. When illnesses wreck you, you grieve. So, I’m going to repeat a few words I’ve uttered countless times; words so powerful and honest that they tear at the hubris of every jackass who participates in the debasing of grieving. Sometimes things in life cannot be fixed.  They can only be carried.

A Red Letter Day...

 

We have all had days like the one I am going to describe.  It starts out as a sort of a pain in the neck day, but actually turns out to be better than average -- even significant in some minor ways. 

It all started when I knocked the stain remover stick off the counter in the laundry room only to have it land beyond reach behind the washing machine. Now since that was the third item to find a place in the dust balls there, I decided that it was past time to rescue them all -- even though two of the items just needed to be thrown out. One was a plastic lid to something and the other was unidentifiable.  Now you need to have an accurate mental picture of my laundry room to understand the dilemma.  Quite frankly I don’t know how Meerhoff’s Appliances even got a washer and dryer in there... and they have done it more than once. Bless them.  Anyway – the room is the size of a toothpick box – more a closet than a room really – and not a large closet.  It's saving grace is that it is right off my kitchen and thus most convenient. Anyway -- it is sort of difficult to describe how you actually pull the washer away from the wall as it is sandwiched tightly between a counter on the left and the dryer on the right. To add to the challenge – once it is out, it is up against a wall and now blocks access to the rest of the room. So -- there is no room whatsoever to maneuver, and it is necessary to employ a sturdy step stool and a long stick with a cleaning rag attached to try to slide items out to freedom and with which to try to remove what is probably years of dust balls and grit. At one point I found myself on top of the washer.  It was impressive if I do say so myself. (The pole employed was one of those extendable ones. I so love those kind as I am on the short side of the height chart.) Anyway -- after successful recovery of the stain remover stick, et al, and having worked up an impressive sweat – mission accomplished. At this point I changed out my sweatshirt for a tee shirt and moved on to another project rather surprised that I didn’t stop for a coffee break. I was on a roll…

For some unknown reason, after I threw in a load of laundry to make sure the washer still worked, I decided to give three of my four houseplants a haircut. What a mess! That, of course, inspired me to move furniture around. Cleaning as I went, I managed to drag, push and carry until I now have a new, somewhat awkward, pathway throughout part of my house and an impressive black and blue bruise on one shin.  I managed to seemingly reduce the size of my living room area and enlarge that of my book room.  Don’t know why I felt the need to do this.  I simply get into the mood to move things around once in a while.  There are very few pieces of furniture that I am able to move these days. I am hoping that my new interest in chair yoga may help with this.  Guess I just like to do what I am able to do. It is fun once in a while to change things up a bit and to reduce the dust ball population.

It must be Spring! (Fingers crossed on that!) 

The Witching Hour...

 

No matter what time I go to bed, I most often wake up at 3:00 AM  - almost always on the dot – even the morning after we all “spring ahead” or “fall back”.  It’s annoying and more.  Is it because of the witching hour of lore?  I have no idea, and I don’t really spend too much time these days thinking about witching hours. The thing is … it is not actually the waking up part that is so bothersome – it is the dreams that come after I fall back asleep -- if I do.  Even while I am having them, I know I am dreaming and think about how stupid they are.  I know that I try to wake myself up on purpose sometimes just to get away from them.  Then again, I sense, at other times, that I am trying to bring them to a satisfactory ending. You know – like those dreams when you are looking for something like your underwear or trying to get back home and the hallways are an endless maze.  You are somehow compelled to find the lost object or get back home safely. Who knows why?

Case in point about these predawn dreams ….  This week I had a dream where people of varying ages – all strangers (one of them had a mustache that needed to be trimmed) – were in my face shouting at me about vitamin supplements.  I was trying to shout back at them to “Stop shouting in my face”, but I couldn’t make any sound.  It was frustrating and I was angry. My throat was tight and strained. Seriously.  Picture that. Been there?

From that I went to the unexpected and joyful discovery of a large hoard of regular mouth canning jar lids.  Not only were they the size I have been looking for during the past two years, but they were Ball and Kerr – my personal faves.  So – I went from screaming angry to most happy all within what was probably a few minutes of stolen sleep in the wee hours of the morning.

Oh – and get this.  It has been several years now, but... I once had a recurring dream that I was driving along a country road and when I blinked, my eyes won’t open and I was driving along blind – just hoping for the best.  It was awful.  As I mentioned -- it was a recurring dream...a recurring awfulness.  I contemplated just staying awake forever, and ... I avoided road trips for a while. Truth. This nightmare disappeared immediately after I told someone about it.  The same thing happened when I was a kid and had a recurring dream of tripping and falling down my neighbor’s basement steps. The sharing saved me.  That’s what I do now that I know the secret.  If I have a particularly scary recurring dream, I share.  Sharing makes them disappear. I have no idea why.  I consider it a gift. Then again… hope I am not passing them along. Sometimes I share dreams before they have a chance to reoccur ... just in case.

Anyway -- no wonder I am sometimes tired when I wake up in the morning.  Dreams are a strange phenomena for sure and can be exhausting.  Just another part of the human condition – I guess. It might be interesting to delve a bit into dream interpretation.  Then again  -- maybe just best to leave it alone. Ah -- the witching hour. I still wonder if that has anything to do with this whole issue?  I just don't wonder about it a lot. There are enough unexplained/unexplainable things sometimes.

Hamster Wheel ...

 

I was, for a moment or two, feeling compelled to write about that old WWII poster - the one warning that “Loose Lips Sink Ships” or about how scary it is when a president’s words are “walked back” by his staff in order to smooth things over.  Who are these people who tell us what our president really meant, but didn’t actually say?  I was also going to write that I am not sure which is worse to listen to – a whispering or a shouting president. But – I am trying so hard to keep it light.  Not always easy these days. I am trying to switch the channel here. Hope you will stay with me.

I confess. Sometimes I worry. Sometimes I fret. No matter what I tell myself about the senselessness of this, I am who I am.  It’s like the whole patience “thing”.  I have been trying for as long as I can remember to try to become a more patient person.  Not making much progress there either.  The thing is – this issue is not present all the time.  It comes and goes depending on the circumstances.  Other people tell me that it is a common ailment. Really?  Maybe people just tend to hide it. Maybe it is not something that they talk about readily.

It is like when you are sleeping away from home and you try to adjust to the night noises of a strange place.  Different room. Different bed. Different sounds.  Was that something moving in the wall behind your head? Was that some snarling clawing animal scratching at the window screen or just a tree branch brushing up against it in the wind? Been there?

Years ago, things were worse actually – My kids were small. Life was somehow more complicated.  As my mom used to say – “we all have our own special bag of rocks.  And... if you look around and see how fortunate you really are deep down, you probably do not want to trade your bag of rocks for someone else’s.  She was a smart woman.  I learned a lot from her now that I think back on everything we had together while on our journey together.  Anyway – years ago I used to tell myself that when I had time, I would take a break.  I earned it. I deserved it.  You know – a time to shut down if only for a little while.  I never found that time back in those days.

The thing is – I have that time now.  I am trying to give myself some of this time -- if only a little bit now and then.  When I succeed, it is wonderful.  I call it Slugsville and I can pretty much go there whenever I want -- within reason of course. (I think I have mentioned Slugsville before....) Maybe that freedom is part of what retirement is.  (Although is anyone ever truly retired?) But… one cannot stay in Slugsville forever and I, personally would not want to. Maybe it is more a matter of focus.  Shut out some of the world sometimes, but connect with what is most important. Personally -- I like spending as much time as possible with my family and interacting with friends and other people in general.  A world within a world.

So – I am thinking that sometimes it is okay to worry.  Sometimes it is okay to fret.  It is okay to keep on working on the patience “thing”. Maybe those things are just part of the human condition.  Maybe trying matters. Maybe asking questions is important as well.  

Gobbledygook, flibbertigibbet ... and more....

 

Well... what can I say?  I was going to write this week's blog about "the significance of the passage of time" but it seems that idea has been a bit overused this week.  So ... instead ... the topic is gobbledygook and flibbertigibbet … two words that are sort of fun to say… but not fun to listen to or to be trapped with in the same room.

First is Gobbledygook.  We are all too familiar with this commonplace "misuse" of language.  It brings to mind any of a number of politicians or the occasional press secretary who have become masters of saying nothing and of using big words in strings in an attempt to flummox regular people. They think they are smarter than we are. They think we are nincompoops.  They underestimate us for sure. Obviously.  You can tell it is gobbledygook if, when you listen to them, the only thing you can think of is: “Wait. What?”  It’s not you; trust me on that. We are so on to them. Are we not?

Then there is flibbertigibbet. Now a flibbertigibbet is, as you know, a flighty, silly person with the added connotation of being someone who, in addition to that silly stuff, has a leaning toward being a blabbermouth, busybody, chatterbox, meddler, newsmonger, tattle tell, etc.  (All nice descriptive words as well.) You get the idea.

Now that I think of it … a flibbertigibbet who has tendencies toward gobbledygook is definitely someone to be avoided.  Perhaps that is why I have been on a “news brownout" now for a while. Just sayin’.

Anyway ...  I would love to meet the person who first used the words gobbledygook and flibbertigibbet.  He/she ranks right up there with the wordsmiths who came up with balderdash, codswallop and nincompoop. Some might say that these five words sort of run together- belong to the same club/gang. Yet, I bet all five could be used in a meaningful sentence of just six, or maybe seven words. Words are fascinating and sometimes fun for sure.

I was thinking about my favorite word of the moment just last Sunday while watching one of those old (as in rerun) Inside the Actors’ Studio interviews – this one with Robin Williams.  I forget what he said his favorite word was, but my favorite word at this moment is thwack.  Don’t know why – it is just fun to say.  I keep waiting for the appropriate situation in which it might fit... a situation that does not involve tennis balls. I feel the same way about the French word for umbrella – parapluie – like I said – just fun to say. Plus it is one of the few French words that I remember. Anyway...

I would love to know what your favorite words are.  Bet they run the gamut. Feel free to share – with or without explanation. I bet your faves are flabbergasting. Okay -- enough now....