Hurricane Gustav

Are we experiencing more natural disasters or does it feel that way due to hyper media coverage?

Almost three years ago to the day, my brother-in-law and his wife lost their home and their jobs due to Hurricane Katrina. They were in the middle of the New Orleans destruction. They have since relocated but I'm sure they're paying attention to Hurricane Gustav headed for the same region.

Mississippi is also in the path of danger. We have family members there and although they're not on the coast, they could feel the impact. If the Belle were here, she would be fretting.

Florida may not escape. If it's not Gustav, there's another storm gearing up behind it. Remember the year that Florida got hit with three back-to-back hurricanes? My parents and I flew into central Florida for my Uncle Ken's funeral and we were shocked at the destruction we saw from the air.

More Golf Clubs

The husband returned from his golf trip a couple of days ago. He was greeted by eight or so dogs on the patio.

He is not on the senior golf tour. He is not a professional. But, he is obsessed with this game. Occasionally, he wins and he gets credit in various pro shops. Now, he is using his credit to be fitted for some new clubs.

Come on! How many sets of golf clubs can we own?

We often talk about downsizing. It's going to be hard if we need to find a room used only for golf apparatus.

Barack and the Technicolor Democrats

This is a line I stole from one of our local columnists, Matthew Tully. He was not being derogatory but I think it sums up the Democratic National Convention quite well.

I (pretty much) watched the entire thing. I will do the same for the Republican convention. I'm a news and politics junkie. Lucky for me, the cable stations rerun the coverage from prime time in the middle of the night so if I happened to miss a few hours, I caught it between 2:00 and 5:00 AM.

The Republicans have a lot to live up to for their convention. The Democrats had:

Political Royalty: Ted Kennedy's speech and the video about the Kennedy dynasty.

Spontaneity: Obama's daughters talking to him and asking, "What city are you in?"

Female Power: Nancy Pelosi, Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton all gave powerful speeches and whether I agree with their politics or not, I was impressed with how far we have come as women.

Racial Pride: When Barack Obama accepted the nomination, he made history as the first African-American. Pans of the crowd showed African-Americans openly weeping.

There's much more that grabbed me. Joe Biden's personal journey after losing his first wife and his daughter in a car accident. His two sons who make a point of correcting any reporter who refer to Jill Biden as their stepmom. They acknowledge the loss of their mother but they are quick to say about Jill, "She's my mom too."

I did not give birth to the baby. My heart still sings when I answer the phone and hear, "Hi Mom."

Are You Related to My Daddy?

When I popped in to visit my father today, both dogs were on the bed. (But, they were behaving.) They are extremely protective of him and when I leaned in for a hug, I almost lost an arm.

My mom put the biter in solitary confinement but the other one still looked at me quizzically, as if saying, "How do you know my daddy?" Plus, I was sitting on the bed which I'm sure she considers her territory.

When I left, I leaned over the doggie gate to make sure the little biter knows I don't like her either.

Light-colored Carpeting

When we renovated and moved into this house 12 years ago, we chose light carpeting. I have no idea what we were thinking. The baby was 8-years old -- an age that involves climbing trees and lots of muddy exploring. We had a big, black dog and now we have another one.

For three years, we had the oldies with us. That involved multiple stains of every imaginable type.

The husband's drink of choice is red wine. He routinely knocks it over while reaching for glasses or the remote control.

In 12 years, we've had lots of parties. There's an old saying, "It ain't a party until something gets broken." In our case, it ain't a party until something gets spilled.

I don't need photos to remember our years (so far) in this house. I can look at the carpeting.

One of my friends is trained as an interior decorator. She also owns several homes. As you can imagine, they're all beautiful. She told me once that carpeting should be in one of three color palettes: sand, sea or grass. If I ever buy new carpeting, I will take her advice.

A Doggie Day

Today is the maniac's birthday party. I lucked into a beautiful day so all the doggies can romp outside.

I've had several people question my sanity for doing this. Others get it right away. It's not really about the dogs.

It's about a girlfriend experiencing financial difficulties who could use a break and a few laughs.
It's about a girlfriend who just took her youngest child to college and needs some support.
It's about girlfriends who are taking care of aging parents and running ragged with work.
It's about me and the opportunity to gather on a sunny afternoon with some friends I don't see as often as I'd like.
It's a couple of hours where we get to escape and enjoy a few laughs.

It may be Gabby's birthday but it's really a tribute to friends -- hers and mine.

Little Notes

The husband is traveling this week. He's probably thrilled to be out of town because my dad had surgery and then I'm having a birthday party for the maniac dog. He's had enough of hospitals and the idea of 8 to 12 dogs in our back yard would make him crazy.

I helped him get organized with his packing -- golf clothes, food, etc. Then I had the baby keep him busy for a few minutes so I could tuck little notes everywhere.

It's fun to go away, especially when it's a friend trip. It's fun to reach into your suitcase or your pocket and know that someone is missing you back home.

When he called today, he said some of the other guys are jealous.

"We're Your Oldies Now."

My father had surgery this morning. He is fine...resting uncomfortably and probably trying to figure out how he let his daughter get him into this situation.

For a surgery day, we had lots of laughs. My mother and I teased my father about his cute gown and hair bonnet. When he was registering for surgery, he went up alone. Oh no -- not going to happen. I tagged along. (Secretly, I think he likes it when I do that.)

During his surgery, my mother and I tried to distract ourselves. We both did the crossword puzzle.

I listened for our name. If someone came in and said, "Riley," I jumped to my feet and said, "Here!" (I would've been great in the military.)

After surgery, the doctor met with us. "Do you have any questions?" is the standard question. My mother had none. I had several.

My parents are not old and they are extremely self-sufficient. But I like to tease them. I told my mother that they'd still be waiting around for someone to call them. She laughed and said, "We're your oldies now."

Not true. But, they have been very accommodating of my quirks. They let me lurk and listen. They let me say, "No, we're going to do it another way."

We did have a little battle in the surgery prep room. Sinus surgery involves several days of breathing only through the mouth. No bending, no stress on the face, no blood rushing to your head. My mother and I decided to exchange words about whether or not the dogs could sleep with them for the next three days. Guess what? "No!" This provided a lot of amusement for my father and if I find out she let those dogs in bed, I will kidnap him and bring him here.

A Possible Christmas Photo

When this is posted, I will be sitting in a waiting room while my father has sinus surgery.

A few years ago, my mother had knee surgery and in the recovery room, my father and I got hysterical laughing at her in the surgical cap gone askew. I called tonight to remind him that I might bring a camera. It's his turn. He will have a surgical cap. He will have a mask over his face to catch whatever (ick!) comes out of his nose.

We've been warned that the inability to breathe through your nose can cause panic attacks. We've been told that he will not sleep well for the few days until the nasal packing is removed. I'm thinking this is prime photo opportunity.

Bad Advice

The Baby is moving into the fraternity house. I went to college; I've seen a few parties in my life.

Last night we spent some quality time together while the husband was messing with the music and packing for his trip. Most moms would reinforce the necessity to study, be responsible, keep your ethics, etc.

After I hugged him to death, told him how very proud I am and smothered him with kisses, I had this advice:

If a party gets out of control, jump out a window and run like the wind.
If you don't know what's in it, don't drink it.
If a girl passes out, don't have sex with her.
Don't wear a toga without a lot of safety pins and clean underwear.

I hope you realize this is our quirky sense of humor.

My gift was one statement. The baby said, "I think you've raised me better than that."

Born to be Wild

One of my goldies recently left a comment: "You are still my wild and crazy Sheri." Yes, I am.

With grown and still growing children among us, it's interesting to see the dynamics. It's fun to rediscover the children we were. Some genetics; some environmental. They are who they are meant to be.

I am quite conservative. But, I have a wild streak. It's more fun that way.

Dancers in Training

A few weeks ago, the husband's band played and I had way too much fun dancing with the Pasadena Gang. I was seriously sore the next day.

Going through some photos reminded me that we've been training for this a long time. We're no longer kids in dorky leotards -- we're just middle-aged people having a little fun.

We rock on!

Pure of Heart

I know lots of good people. I believe most people are inherently good, although evil certainly exists too. I know a few people who are pure of heart. My parents fit this category although my mother has a mean streak.

Here's a pure-of-heart story: One of Houseboy's landscaping employees lost his mother in a tragic car accident last week. There were lots of details to attend to, not to mention that this man has been estranged from his family for quite some time. He mentioned to Houseboy that he needed to go to Goodwill to get something appropriate to wear. Not with Houseboy on the case! They finished their work and then went shopping: outfitted from head to toe, including having the pants altered. Houseboy footed the bill.

I'm occasionally pure of heart but I've got that mean streak too.

Big Daddy's Gone -- Let's Party!

In a moment of pure insanity, I decided to have a birthday party for my maniac dog. She has lots of friends, mostly fellow retrievers.

Her second birthday is Thursday. People don't really appreciate her because she is obnoxious but the other dogs seem to like her. She's a party animal.

When I first met her, she was the wild one in the litter. She hopped over her siblings and barked her little butt off. She has not changed. Some might have seen a maniac; I saw a kindred spirit.

For her party, we will have dog treats and people appetizers. If it doesn't rain, we will have a ball.

Last night, I explained this party to the husband. (Another Wild Bill moment -- I had the dates wrong.) I thought he was coming home on Friday. Wrong! He's coming home on Thursday.

So, I figure he has two choices:

He can go to the club or make himself scarce for a while, or
He can hang with the girls and watch 8 to 12 dogs frolic in our back yard.

Battle of the Sexes

When I travel, whether it's solo, with the husband or with girlfriends, I am in charge of certain things:

I pack my own clothes.
I make lists for any food or drinks we are responsible to bring. I run the errands.
If we're flying, I print out the e-tickets.
I make sure all prescriptions are filled and current.
I coordinate who will pick up the mail and the newspapers.
If we're taking the dog, I pack her bag.
I do laundry and go to the dry cleaners so all clothing options are available.
Depending on the trip, I have the names and phone numbers for the airline, rental car and anything else we might need.

Since I am a control freak, this works for me. One of my friends has to put her clothing out and then her husband packs for both of them. This would not work for me. If nothing else, I want my own suitcase.

The husband is traveling next week and I have:

Picked up prescriptions.
Picked up dry cleaning.
Ordered food for the meal he will prepare.
Grocery shopped for the other parts of the meal.
Bought paper plates, platters and napkins.
Started a pile of things he will need.

I still have two more errands to run for his trip. Last night, I pointed out how this seems a little out of balance. He responded, "It's not my fault you're the girl."

It's a lot easier to go play golf or catch up on paperwork when you have a control freak at home.

The Power of Prayer

I believe in prayers. I pray every day -- usually multiple times.

I also believe that sometimes the answer is "No, I have a different plan."

If we participate in a prayer chain, are we inundating God with prayers to make things go our way? I often do this. I pray hard, loud and often. Then I have to remind myself that my way may not be His way.

The Boys

I have lots of boys in my life. Okay, most of them are grown men but I think of them as "my boys." The top three are the husband, my father and the baby. Houseboy (a nickname he tolerates) is one of my boys. So are my uncles and many of my friends. They advise me and make me laugh.

Today I accompanied two of my boys to the doctor. By some fluke, they had back-to-back appointments. I was invited to one and barged my way into the second. Intrusive people know that they are annoying but we can't help ourselves. I need to hear the information first hand. I need to see the scans and have the doctor explain it to me like I'm a 5-year old.

I've got to keep my boys healthy. There are some surgeries in our future but they're relatively minor. When I dropped in on the husband's visit, he said, "Who invited you?" I planted myself in a chair.

Random Memories

Today, I drove up a main steet in my city and I passed the spot where my friend Laurel was killed in a car accident. I gave a little wave.

Today, I made my bed and threw the pillow that Patsy made for me on the covers.

Today, I made fruit salad and I put it in one of Bobbie's bowls.

Today, I dusted the guest room and spent a considerable amount of time thinking about and missing the oldies.

Yesterday, I showed up for a doctor's appointment on the wrong day. I thought about Wild Bill and how easily he was distracted.

My crazy grandma was included. I wore some flip flops in her honor.

Fretting and Futzing

Today I am on edge. I have many things on my mind and I'm wearing a new path in our already worn-out carpeting.

I know worrying solves nothing but someone needs to explain that to my brain. When I'm in overdrive, I start doing one thing, get distracted, and then start something else. I go to another room with a purpose in mind and then forget what I had in mind. I try to organize something (anything!) and end up with a bigger mess.

I'm going to try to channel some of this spastic energy into one of my writing projects. If that doesn't work, I will make lists. I will walk the maniac dog to burn off some energy. Then I might count something. That always makes my (self-diagnosed) slightly autistic self feel in control.

Everyone copes with worries and stress in different ways. I haven't figured out my best way.

Dogs and Cats

I have never owned a cat but I know lots of cat people. I have loved (from afar) some of my friends' cats. I am a dog person. My greatest act of defiance was to get my maniac dog even though the husband and Hangdog were firmly against it. I've never regretted it.

This is old but worth repeating. I have no idea who the author is or I would give him or her credit.

>DOG DIARY
>
> 8:00 am - Dog food! My favorite thing!
> 9:30 am - A car ride! My favorite thing!
> 9:40 am - A walk in the park! My favorite thing!
> 10:30 am - Got rubbed and petted! My favorite thing!
> 12:00 PM - Wagged my tail! My favorite thing!
> 1:00 PM - Played in the yard! My favorite thing!
> 3:00 PM - Ran back and forth in the hall! My favorite thing!
> 5:00 PM - Milk bones! My favorite thing!
> 7:00 PM - Got to play tug! My favorite thing!
> 8:00 PM - Wow! Watched TV with the people! My favorite thing!
> 11:00 PM - Sleeping on the bed! My favorite thing!
>
> CAT DIARY
>
> Day 983 of my captivity.
>
> My captors continue to taunt me with bizarre little dangling objects.
> They dine lavishly on fresh meat, while the other inmates and I are
> fed hash or some sort of dry nuggets. Although I make my contempt for the
> rations perfectly clear, I nevertheless must eat something in order to
> keep up my strength. The only thing that keeps me going is my dream of
> escape.
>
> In an attempt to disgust them, I once again vomit on the carpet.
>
> Today I decapitated a mouse and dropped its headless body at their
> feet. I had hoped this would strike fear into their hearts, since it
> clearly demonstrates what I am capable of. However, they merely made
> condescending comments about what a 'good little hunter' I am.
> Bastards!
>
> They continue to pick me up and handle me, an obvious attempt to
> subvert me.
>
> There was some sort of assembly of their accomplices tonight. I was
> placed in solitary confinement for the duration of the event. However,
> I could hear the noises and smell the food. I overheard that my
> confinement was due to the power of 'allergies.' I must learn what
> this means, and how to use it to my advantage.
>
> Today I was almost successful in an attempt to assassinate one of my
> tormentors by weaving around his feet as he was walking. I must try
> this again tomorrow -- but at the top of the stairs.
>
> I am convinced that the other prisoners here are flunkies and
> snitches.
>
> The dog receives special privileges. He is regularly released -- and
> seems to be more than willing to return. He is obviously retarded.
>
> Tonight I will again lie on their heads while they sleep and hope to
> smother them.

Give me a big ol' sloppy dog. I'll leave the litter box and the craftiness to the cat people.

Fish Man

Yes, I'm referring to Michael Phelps. What a coup! What fun to watch each race and see history in the making. I think I rivaled his mother with tears when he won his eighth medal.

I'm glad his competition is over. He kept me up way past my bedtime for too many nights. Plus, I was so jazzed up that sleep was impossible.

Is he the greatest athlete of all time? Lots of commentators are debating this. Is he above Michael Jordan? Tiger Woods? Babe Ruth? I don't know. I just know he captured my attention and I became a cheerleader.

Process of Elimination

I was trying to be nice last night. I was out of town for most of last week and the husband sometimes gets an attitude. Secretly, he likes it when I'm gone but he has to pretend to be irritated. It's part of our marriage dance.

The first thing I did was to cook dinner. And, I tried a new recipe that sounded like something he would like -- kind of a jambalaya sauce over pasta. If I do say so myself, it was yummy. (Rachel Ray says it can be made in 30 minutes. She's a big liar.)

My second nice thing was to listen to golf stories. I did not make the gagging noise. I did not roll my eyes. I slipped up once and said, "Did you forget this is a HOBBY? Unless you've joined the Senior Tour and forgot to tell me about it, get over yourself." He let that pass.

My third nice thing was to let him play his iPod and have control of the remote. (You cannot imagine how difficult this is for me.) At one point he extended his hand -- the universal symbol for "May I have this dance?"

As we danced, I commented, "You don't even like me." He said, "I know. But, you're the only one here."

Texting

I am a dinosaur. I try to keep up with technology and then I get overwhelmed. I am so far behind the times it becomes absurd. I think I'm really hip (no one says that anymore, do they?) that I know how to blog and post comments.

Yesterday, the baby showed me how to send and receive text messages. I don't know all the lingo or shortcuts but now I'm a mad woman on a mission. I also (half way/sort of) learned how to program my phone.

My iTunes library had lots of duplicates so I worked on cleaning that up. It was definitely a techie day. Several of my friends will be relieved that I am trying to catch up with the times.

Friendship Redefined

This is going around the Internet and one of my goldies sent it to me:

1. When you are sad -- I will jump on the person who made you sad
like a spider monkey jacked up on Mountain Dew.
2. When you are blue -- I will try to dislodge whatever is choking you.
3. When you smile -- I will know you are plotting something that I must be involved in.
4. When you are scared -- I will rag on you about it every chance I get.
5. When you are worried -- I will tell you horrible stories about how much Worse it could be until you quit whining.
6. When you are confused -- I will use little words.
7. When you are sick -- Stay away from me until you are well again. I don't want whatever you have.
8. When you fall -- I will point and laugh at your clumsy butt...and then help you up.

This is my oath.... I pledge it to the end. 'Why?' you may ask;
'because you are my friend'.

I have my own version and it's a little sappier:

1. When you are sad -- You can cry on my shoulder but you might have to pay the dry cleaning bill.
2. When you are blue -- I will remind you that blue eyeshadow went out of style for people our age a long, long time ago.
3. When you smile -- I will crack a smile myself. If you're happy, it makes me happy.
4. When you're scared -- I will dream about it. I will get angry with you because you're supposed to be stronger than me. I will listen and say a prayer.
5. When you're worried -- I will fret with you. I will not let you whine. Okay, maybe a little bit...
6. When you're confused -- I'll be in the hunt. I'll google it. I'll research it. If it's emotional confusion, see number one.
7. When you're sick -- I'll bring you food, although I may leave it on the front porch.
8. When you fall -- I will remind you that you never fall or fail in my eyes.

Time to Fly

This is my friend, Nate, headed off for his first day of school. He's five-years old and the grandson of my buddy, Big Sal. He coined the phrase, "I all done," which I use all the time.

In a few short days, my friend Cynthia will watch her youngest start the college adventure.

There's no easy way to let go. Waving at them on the bus as they head off to kindergarten is tough. Walking out the door as you leave them in a college dorm is a mixed jambalaya of pride and tears.

All you can hope is they have roots and wings.

Dancing Queen

Dancing is part of my soul. I'm not good at it but I don't care. It brings me great joy. I dance at parties. I danced in ballet and theater groups. I dance on counters. My favorite times with the husband are when we dance on the patio.

I rarely give opinions about recent movies because I rarely go the movie theater. This has been a banner summer -- I've been twice.

While at the lake, a gaggle of girlfriends and acquaintances (11 of us!) traded in a gray and drizzly day for dinner and a movie. The vote was unanimous, Mamma Mia. Mixed reviews had come from all sides, the media, people I know who had seen it, etc. I knew I would love the music and I was happy for the theater experience. They could just put Pierce Brosnan on the screen for two hours and I would eat popcorn and be a happy lady. I'm also a big fan of Meryl Streep and Colin Firth.

See it. Better yet, see it with some girlfriends. Sing along. The movie is great but for extra fun, the song routines during the credits had eleven women singing at the screen and waving our arms.

There is a little part of me that is a "Dancing Queen."

Moving

Some people love to move. They change houses or even cities on a whim. There's a purging of stuff and a fresh start that they enjoy.

I am not one of these people. I get ridiculously attached to trees and memories made within the bricks and mortar. My childhood home and neighborhood is still there and I like it that way.

My friend is moving and it's a mixed bag of feelings for her. It's a good decision but like me, she's clinging to the memories. I keep reminding her that she has the magic touch -- anywhere she lives will be a home filled with love.

And hopefully, lots of great memories in the making.

Out of Butter

Our garage refrigerator went on the fritz. Something is always broken around here.

It's fixed now but there were a few casualties. I lost a pork roast and some beer. Since I don't drink beer, I don't care.

I also lost my last pound of butter, bought by the Belle. I haven't bought butter in over three years because she always bought more than I could use in a year with every shopping trip. Throwing it out made me sad -- like a last nod to my oldies.

When I return from the lake, I will have to grocery shop. I will have to buy butter. I will probably have a meltdown in the Dairy aisle.

I Still Sit Like This

People make jokes about those of us who choose to sit on the floor. Are we sitting at our husbands' feet? Are we not worthy of a real chair?

Some of my best studying and my best writing has been done in this weird position.

Keep your chairs. I'm going to sit on the floor. Plus, there's room for a dog in the crook of my knee.

Naked

2:00 AM to 4:00AM is a dangerous time. There's nothing on television except infomercials, bad reruns, and quacks giving advice. I don't sleep well and I'm a sucker so I watch them all.

The other night, the quack of the moment made some profound announcement about learning to love and accept yourself. It involved standing naked in front of a full-length mirror. I have some advice of my own: Don't Do It! If you decide to ignore this advice, don't do it at 3:00 AM.

I'm not a prude. I find the human body beautiful in many forms. I've been skinny-dipping (in the dark.) Michelangelo's "David" is one of my favorite works of art. I change clothes in front of other women without giving it a thought. Here's a shocker: The husband has seen me naked.

But now that I know what he sees, those days may be over.

Luggage

I have no idea how we accumulated so many suitcases. There's an entire wall in my basement and a huge collection in my closet. I received some baby blue ones as a high school graduation gift but those are long gone. The husband has received some as a favor at a golf outing or a corporate event but it still doesn't explain our abundance.

We inherited some from the oldies. I guess we'll weed those out at some point.

Even the dog has her own suitcase. She received it from Cynthia as a Christmas gift. It's a big canvas duffel bag with her name on it. (She ate part of one corner but it's still functional.) She knows when I get it out that she's going to the lake or puppy camp. I made the mistake of packing her bag first and leaving it by the back door. She's standing guard over it like, "You're not leaving without me."

I tend to send donations to veteran's groups and womens' shelters. When I get to my Fall basement clean-up, there are some women and children who will benefit from some slightly used suitcases.

Drop It

I spend a lot of time chasing the dog and instructing her to "drop it." It might be a house slipper or a pillow. She ignores me and I look like an idiot running around with my whacker.

The husband often asks me to "drop it." I am mentally incapable of this and I blame my mother. I chew on it, stew on it and I want to discuss it to death. Then, I take a short break to gather my thoughts so we can discuss it some more.

So far, I've escaped the whacker.

Meanies

My goddaughters used to collect Beanie Babies. I collect Meanies.

Somewhere along the line, I've let people know that it's okay to tell me the unvarnished truth. Even when it hurts, I prefer it that way.

Walking around in a fog, trying to figure out what I said or did, doesn't work for me. Just tell me! Fortunately, I grew up with someone who has no problem calling me on the carpet.

I used to tell the husband that I don't have a mean bone in my body. When he started gasping for breath and I was trying to remember my CPR training, I decided to let that phrase go.

I grew up with Queen Meanie and I am her clone.

Guilt

I'm good at guilt. I can inflict it on others and I'm really good at self-infliction. Lately I feel guilty about:

My church attendance.
A doctor's appointment I should attend but I'm going to the lake instead.
The husband and not being there for his worries.

I mess up every day... multiple times. I like this quote, attributed to Abraham Lincoln. "It really hurts me very much to suppose that I have wronged anybody on earth."

My Favorite Shopping

I do not care to shop. I find grocery shopping a huge pain and shopping for clothing is depressing. They make nothing for women my size or my age. Either I must settle for something designed for a teenager or a dowdy old woman. I am neither. Plus, I'm cheap so I refuse to pay astronomical prices.

I like to shop at Target. I can usually find everything I need and a few things I didn't know I needed.

When we go to Phoenix, I like to shop at Last Chance. I stock up on tanks and usually find some cute shoes. I own more coats than any human being should have but I always find great bargains in Phoenix.

My favorite shopping is the bookstore. I hoard my gift certificates and save them for a few trips each year. Just walking through the door, all my senses come alive. I love the sight of my favorite authors' names on a new release. I love the feel and smell of new books.

Then I bring all of my new friends home and prioritize them. I restocked yesterday and I've already chosen the ones I will take to the lake.

A Pasadena Dance

The husband's band played last night. It was a gorgeous night for an outdoor concert. Perfect weather and a big crowd. I could've stayed all night... well, actually I did.

In addition to dancing my feet off, I was dancing down memory lane. Many of my childhood friends and neighbors were there. The Pasadena gang was in full force. My sister coordinated this and she was there with her husband and her real parents. Her younger sister, who was a flower girl in my first wedding, was there with her husband. Another baby, who is now a grown man, was there and I dragged him on the dance floor. Then I lapsed into Oldieville and said, "I remember your dad sitting on our front porch and telling us you were born."

I had flashbacks. Rich and Kim were two of the neighborhood gang I used to run with. Last night, you would've thought we were 8-years old again. We may be in our 40s but the party hasn't stopped. They come by it honestly. Their parents rarely left the dance floor and I'm enthralled with Nick, who has a couple of decades on me, yet he has all the best moves.

The Parade Wave

Sorry, one more Indiana State Fair story...

My mother loves to ride the train and in keeping with Hoosier hospitality, people wave at you. You must wave back. It's a rule. Any woman over the age of 35 knows this is a dangerous activity... all that skin flapping could wound someone.

Big Girls Cry

My childhood dog was amazing. She saw me through childhood. puberty and my high school years. When I was in college, she died in my father's arms. I hope our dogs show up in heaven because I would love a reunion.

Now I have a maniac dog and occasionally I steal her pillow. She licks my tears.

Big girls do cry.

They cry because they're scared.

They cry when they're disappointed.

They cry when they're surrounded by people and still feeling lonely.

They cry at memories and hopefully, laugh through the tears.

They cry at graduations, weddings and funerals. They also cry at little life changes. Sometimes they (I) do this in the privacy of the bathroom or the closet.

It's very common for parents to tell children, "Be a big girl" or "Be a big boy." I've done it. I wonder if I told them often enough that it's okay to cry.

Wading through the Fog

To borrow a phrase from my Aunt Cess, I am an "out there" person. I come by it honestly. My mother has a shade of this and my dad's side of the family is filled with them. I'm not as "out there" as some of my cousins but I'm in the race.

Other relatives and friends seem to be wading through the fog. It makes me sad.

My cousin Scott sent me photos of his recent trip to Bolivia. My cousin John is still a baby in my mind and he's running a company. My cousin Sarah recently had her fourth child (four!) and is managing a business while her husband travels. My cousin Cathy just married on the beach and is running her own business.

The way I see it is this: You can choose the fog or you can choose to be "out there." My choice is obvious.

thirtysomething

In the 80s, I loved the show "thirtysomething." Some found it cloying and annoying (mostly men) but I was a faithful viewer. They dealt with a lot of real issues and it was an interesting mix of friends.

I'm thinking about this because yesterday was the daughter's birthday and she is 30-something. I did not birth her but I have been around for a long time. I have witnessed several of her phases, as she has witnessed mine. Her mother deserves most of the credit for the person she is today but the other parents had a hand in the effort.

Our relationship has been pretty honest, even when it's painful. I prefer it that way and she insists on it. It saves a lot of time and heartache when you don't have to dance around things. You can just say, "I'm angry and here's why." Of course, you must be prepared for the response. Usually, it's "I'm angry too. Here's why." I have this kind of relationship with my mother and I value the same with the daughter.

She's made choices I would not have made; she's made choices I envy. I"m prejudiced but I think she's smart, brazen and beautiful. Even when we disagree, we're on the same team. Lots of families don't have this gift.

Happy Birthday Week JC!

Neighborhood Covenants

I have never lived in a neighborhood with a covenant. Many of them are quite restrictive, i.e. you can't have a mini barn or an above-ground pool. (I own neither.) Others have to approve your paint color, your type of fence, etc. I would be okay because my house is white brick and my fence is hedges.

But, our neighborhood has an unwritten covenant. Everyone is expected to have their lawn tended on a Thursday or Friday in case anyone is entertaining over the weekend. No one has a clothesline, although I still hang unmentionables in my back yard trees. I'm pretty sure my neighbors would frown on a garage sale.

We drive through lots of little towns when we go to our friends' lake cottage and they seem to have a covenant of their own. Lots of overcrowded porches and lawn ornaments are an unwritten rule somewhere.

It Never Hurts to Ask

At the Indiana State Fair today, I bargained my way through. My alma mater was giving away cloth bags. I got some for all of us and several for my mother's friends. I think I was making her nervous.

I bought some sunglasses but asked the guy to lower the price and throw in some extra cases. My aunt found this funny.

A young man walked by in an IU shirt that said, "Cheerleading." I asked him to do a flip. He did.

We went through the horse barn -- something I usually don't do, but it was fun. The horses were beautiful and my aunt who adores horses was in horse heaven. I wanted a picture so I asked the owner to move the horse. He did.

I talk to everyone... security people, vendors, police officers. I want what I want and the worst that can happen is they'll say no.

A Vat of Oil

My dry skin and dry hair are a struggle. I"m constantly in pursuit of solutions. When we cleaned out the dungeon after the oldies' deaths, I kept a pot of the Belle's expensive face cream. I see no difference between using it or my drugstore stuff.

Sometimes if my skin feels especially dry, I make this concoction in the bathtub. It's a lot of oil mixed with some hot water. Then you just stew yourself in it. It's wonderful and slippery and a little weird but your skin stays soft for days.

The problem is getting out of the tub. I envision the headline, "Stupid woman slips in Vat of Oil."

Yee Haw! Going to the Fair!

My mother and I were having a conversation the other night and trying to compare calendars so we could book our date at the Indiana State Fair. We're both slightly overbooked (it makes us sound important but we're not.) Finally she said, "Well we might have to skip it this year."

Whoa Doggies! Skip the Fair? I don't think so.

My aunt is visiting from Utah and she is going with us. My other aunt has cleared her schedule so we can have a girl day. (If my Florida aunt could be here, it would be complete.)

We're going tomorrow. I overuse this word but I am officially giddy. We all have our tickets. I have instructed one of my aunts that I will not acknowledge her or stand next to her if she wears a fanny pack. My aunts tolerate me and my quirks but hey, I tolerate theirs.

The husband does not do the Fair. It doesn't matter to me; he would just get on my nerves. My mother and I have it down.

Joker

As of today, the movie "Dark Knight" is still obliterating box office records. I won't see it. It's not my kind of movie. But I've seen the trailer and read the interviews. Heath Ledger plays the Joker and some say he may be nominated for an Oscar. Another Joker struck down too soon.

We play Joker too. My parents and several of their friends have a standing game on Sundays. My mother discovered this game and ordered it or gave the information to all of us.

We crashed the Joker party on my mother's birthday. I was shocked about several things:

We managed to surprise her.
I managed to get the husband off the golf course.
They are super serious about this game. Even as people came in and out to wish my mother a happy birthday, players would zone them out as they plotted their "strategery."

The most fun for me was playing with neighbors and friends I don't see very often. It's amazing how those relationships come full circle.

Wife of ...

I am a product of the women's movement. I like it that we have a vote. I tend to believe that women rule the world, albeit behind the scenes. It's an old saying and I'm paraphrasing but none of these men would've gotten where they are without a strong woman behind him. If I start to count them, I get dizzy.

I haven't marched on Washington. But I would.

We're all labeled with terms like daughter of ..., sister of ..., mother of .... etc. My personal favorite is "wife of." I wish I had a dollar for every time someone has said, "Oh, you're Dan's wife."

I enjoy being his wife. But, I like it a whole lot better when they call me by name.

Shooting Stars

When we visit our friends' lake cottage, one of our favorite activities is nighttime boat rides. Since we never eat dinner until after the sunset, late night rolls in quickly. We argue about the music, we sing along and we watch for shooting stars. Everyone can find the big and little dipper, the North Star and we can point out planes and satellites.

Although we've been doing this for years, one of our friends had never seen a shooting star. By some fluke, she always managed to be looking down or in another direction when one would happen. It became a mission for her to see one.

Last weekend we had a debate about what makes a shooting star. (It's a meteor entering the atmosphere.) During the debate, we saw a vivid one.

The streak, so to speak, is over.

Do You Google Yourself?

Another confession. Every few months I google myself to see what shows up. (I also google lots of you.) Try as I might, technology is always way ahead of me. But I made the conscious decision to put myself out there with a blog and a website. It's funny to see the key words that pop up.

When I did it this morning, the first thing to pop up was my fierce attachment to the "Riley" name.

It made me smile.

Swim Walking

The husband and I have now owned two Labs. Both had to be taught to swim which is a skill that is supposed to be intuitive. Our current maniac could use the ladder with her first water experience but couldn't quite muster the courage to get in on her own.

It's a little like when a child is potty trained. As of this weekend, she can now do it on her own, although she uses the ladder. She's a wuss. She doesn't swim out very far; she likes it best when her feet can still touch the bottom. Her front paws are paddling and my friend has termed it "swim walking."

I remember faking stomach aches to get out of swim lessons and then I experienced the baby doing the same. Now we both swim like fish. My mother, who spent the bulk of her teenage years in Florida, still swears she can't swim. I think she's not giving herself enough credit.

We couldn't get maniac dog out of the water this weekend. She vacillated between swim walking and actual swimming. Maybe next year she'll learn to dive off the pier.

Friends versus Acquaintances

From the Oxford American Dictionary:

Friend: A person with whom one is on terms of mutual affection and respect.
Acquaintance: A person one knows slightly.

I'll add two more:

Relative: A person who is related by parentage or descent or marriage.
Stranger: A person one does not know.

Wouldn't it be nice if relationships were this easy to define? I have relatives who are friends and relatives who are strangers. I have acquaintances that I trust more than some relatives. I have friends that are sometimes strangers. I have friends who know it all. I consider some of my friends in the relative category.

The husband and I spent the weekend with friends. We all know way too much about each other but there's a level of trust there. We also know (or know about) each other's children and parents.

The words "trust" and "love" didn't show up in any of the definitions. Guess we get to define that for ourselves.

The Sunday Night Freak Out

Weekends allow us to relax. For the husband, that means golf and cards. For me, I might go to the pool or curl up with a book.

Like all good things, the weekend ends. Then the brain neurons kick in and it's Sunday night. You're evaluating the week. You're facing reality again. You're making to-do lists. You're pacing.

Even retired people struggle with this. It's ingrained over decades and now there is nothing to be freaking about. It doesn't matter. The habit is there.

I have a Sunday night ritual. It involves a swim in my tub, a glass of wine and music. I have nothing to fear on Monday morning but I still do it.