A Closet Tale

This (of course) is not my actual closet. But it's pretty darn close. (I don't think I've ever taken a cake in there.) Cleaning it out was daunting.

When you have a large closet, it's very easy to fill. Clothing and accessories add up. Even though I'm not a shopper, I am also not very good at getting rid of things. The luxury of lots of space quickly became a dumping ground. Even I had to admit it was ridiculous. Tons of outdated clothing or items I would never wear again were squished against each other. Accessories and miles of shoes were on top of each other. Old business suits were neighbors with bad resort/vacation clothes. In the middle of the mess, I was able to identify a few items I actually wear.

Also, we used to keep boxed photos in the basement. After a pipe leak or some other disaster we re-boxed thousands of photos (without any organization or cleaning out the duplicates) and stored them in one of the guest room closets. When the Captain and the Belle moved in, we moved all of the boxes to my closet.

I also found miles of yarn and semi-completed knitting and crocheting projects. I rarely do either of these activities any more. And to top it off, excess wrapping paper, miscellaneous cards and ribbons, and wrapping supplies were crammed in a corner.

Sounds like a pretty picture, doesn't it?

I have completed about 90% of the clean up. Since I am emotionally attached to many items -- even ones I will never use or wear -- it has been difficult. I find myself thinking, "Oh, I wore that when we ..." At that moment, I want to hang on to it. Instead I am training myself to hang on to the memory.

Snow Days

We're still digging out from the 15-plus inches of snow we received Tuesday night and Wednesday. The city is slowly coming back to life but the first day was a nightmare for many.

The kindness of neighbors continues to amaze me. My father is no longer on the sick pillow but still recovering from pneumonia. Twice he's gone outside to shovel and neighbors run over to send him in the house. Even I have done some shoveling but when I told a friend, he didn't believe me.

Do you remember the feeling of waiting to hear if school was cancelled for the day? I swear a collective cheer could be heard throughout my childhood neighborhood once we knew it was a snow day. It was too dangerous to tromp to the bus stop or walk to school but we could be suited up and out to play in minutes. Sledding, making snow angels, building snowmen or just romping. It was all such fun. Although I will admit to being a weenie about sledding. High speed was never my goal and I always feared hitting a tree. Life can't be all fun -- I recall being knocked off a sled or two. Then it's take a break, have some cocoa, then bundle up for round two.

Snow days for adults have less appeal. We worry about straining our back while shoveling. Frankly, I worry about the old bird across the street who reshovels the end of her driveway. Is this really worth the risk at her age? When my prior oldies (the Belle and the Captain) lived with us, they could fall for no reason at all. Walking through the house was a fall waiting to happen. Yet this neighbor who is older than they were is out there on a mission.

We worry about the condition of the roads. We worry about other drivers. I am always certain I will get stuck and I usually do. Hot chocolate doesn't seem like enough of a reward for risking my life behind the wheel. Nine layers of clothing make most of us look and feel like the Goodyear blimp -- never my fashion goal.

I don't wish to be a child again but I wouldn't mind having a moment of the pure ecstasy associated with snow days.

Winter Vacations

I wasn't able to vacation last winter -- I don't think two trips to Mississippi to bury the Belle and the Captain count as fun getaways. For a wide variety of reasons, I won't be taking any fun jaunts this winter either. As long as I can remember, I've looked forward to winter trips. Indiana winters can be brutal and endless gray days make for endlessly gray moods.

I have been so blessed with travel opportunities over the years. Friends with second homes in warm weather cities have welcomed me many times. (Southwest Florida is Ditto Indiana -- it's practically impossible to vacation there and not run into someone you know.) I have also traveled on business and tagged along with the husband any time I was allowed. Over the weekend, several of our couple friends left on a 7-day cruise and I'm jealous. In a couple of weeks, the workout girls head to Zona. Memories of great times will have to warm me this year.

I've never understood adults who vacation in the summer. I'm not talking about family vacations while the children are out of school but couple time or girlfriend trips.

Indiana is plenty nice for most of the year but in January, February and March, I'm constantly itching to get out of Dodge. Maybe next year.

Relatives and Memories

These are my grandparents, Bobbie and Pa. Those were my names for them and I miss them terribly. I think of them every day and now I think of them every time I walk into my mother's office where she keeps this photo on her desk. This photo was taken at my first wedding in 1984. They have both been gone for many years but they do live on in our hearts.

Today would've been Bobbie's birthday. I'm not big on visiting people's gravesites. I'd rather visit the memories in my mind. I can still picture her overly-stuffed house with a feast on the table for every holiday or family meal. I still don't understand how she managed it on her meager budget. I treasure every bowl or platter she gave me. For the rest of my life, any entertaining I do will include some of Bobbie's dishes. When dividing our household items, I have no interest (or moral right) to the silver we inherited from the Captain and the Belle. I will fight to the finish for my dimestore and garage sale glass items that my grandmother gave me with love.

On another note, we just concluded a visit with my aunt and her boyfriend. We only had a couple of days and they went way too fast. But, more memories were visited and more memories were made.

Afeared of Fire

I love a roaring fire in the fireplace or a bonfire at a weinie roast. But other than that, I have an obsessive fear of fire. Twice I have had my hair singed. Once was at an REO concert and the person behind me got a little carried away waving her lighter. The other time a friend had a lit candle on the back of her toilet and my big hair got in the way.

When the Belle and the Captain lived with us, my firewoman patrol was on active duty, 24/7. More than once:

I found evidence of the Belle smoking in bed.
I found burning candles in the bedroom and/or bath after they left the house.
She caught both ovens on fire.
She left the house with the gas stove top blazing.
She caught bacon wrappers, paper towels and various other counter items on fire.

I considered strapping a fire extinguisher to my person, along with my glasses, cell phone, pens, etc. Instead I became a maniac about checking the batteries in the smoke detectors and checking each room on a regular basis.

The oldies are gone but my fear lingers. Now that I live with my oldies, I'm on needless patrol but it doesn't stop me. If anyone starts roasting chestnuts on an open fire during this season, I'm running in the opposite direction.

A Belated Apology to the Captain and the Belle

When my world was rocked several years ago by the realization that we were going to move the husband's parents into our home, I was nervous but I hope I was also welcoming. As one of my favorite songs goes, "Life was changed, rearranged."

Once again, life is imitating that song's lyrics.

And I realized that I used them as a scapegoat for many things. So, this is my letter to them:

Dear Mom & Pop,

If anyone had told me three years ago that I would miss you as much as I do, I might have rolled my eyes. No, I don't miss the falling and the illnesses. I don't miss the frying. I miss the Belle at the piano and modeling new clothes. I miss the woman who was tough as steel and gentle as a dove. I miss the Captain's stories.

You both showed me love and concern. should've listened more often. I should've said thank you more often. I should've recognized the gift of you.

Stress comes in many forms and from many places. I apologize for often placing the blame on you.

Giving Up the Keys

I'm convinced this was the breaking point for the Belle. When she started mowing over the mailbox and parking the car in the front yard, we had to act.

Driving is a privilege, not a right. I've given this lecture to teenagers and I've given it to oldies.

I admire people who can say, "You are driving. Here are my keys"

The Cane

This photo was taken at our friend Mome's 90th birthday party. I'm sorry the oldies didn't get to have a 90th birthday.

On good days, the Belle did not need her cane. Toward the end, the Captain used a walker but we knew it was a good day when all he wanted was the cane. Just like their personalities, her cane was bright and festive. His was solid wood -- no flash.

Do you remember the end of the movie "Miracle on 34th Street?" Natalie Wood finds Kris Kringle's cane in the house he has directed her to see.

This morning I was in the garage and I looked up to see the Captain's cane propped against the wall. It has to have been there for at least eight months.

There are miracles everywhere and sometimes they are simple enough to jar you. I don't think the Captain/Unabomber/Hangdog was Kris Kringle. I do think I was reminded to spend some time thinking about him today.

Nervous Times

The economy is a mess. I realize this is not news to you but it's scary. All of us are feeling the pinch in different ways.

The election is less than a month away. I try to be an independent thinker and study the candidates and the issues that I care about. I'm still nervous about both teams.

The husband is having surgery tomorrow. I am not worried about the actual surgery; I'm worried that he will be trapped with me for at least three days. We are used to coffee and crosswords in the morning and evenings together. Even when we go on vacation, he plays golf and I go to the beach.

Some years are better than others. We lost the Belle in January and the Captain in March.

I don't need to get on a treadmill; I'm pacing enough to get my workout done.

Actual Sentences Said to Me

This has been a weird year and we're only three quarters of the way through it.

It started in January when the Belle made it clear, in actions and in words, that she was done. She wanted to die and I believe she willed herself to die.

The Captain was a lost sailor without her. He would often tell me or the husband that he wanted to die. He did.

A friend told me that she's reevaluating her life and doesn't need friends.

My father said he wasn't feeling well. In my opinion, he was receiving inadequate medical care. I jumped in and now I'm sure my parents want to knock me out of the way.

The husband told me the other night that we need a new adventure. I'm not sure what planet he comes from but my life is already an adventure. I want him healthy and happy. I want my parents healthy. I want the baby to excel in college. I want my girlfriends to be able to take a deep breath without worrying about children, parents, grandchildren, etc.

Someone said to me, "I don't like your husband sometimes." If there's a person that you like 100 percent, all the time -- my bet is that you don't know that person very well.

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.

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.

People With Influence -- Part Two

So many people impact me, even when they have no idea.

That first person, that boy or girl who you dreamt about and pined for ...

Your first love. We all define it differently but I know who mine was and he was definitely an influence.

The aunts and uncles who took you on dates, bought cute clothes for you and put up with you when your parents needed a break. Their influence in my life cannot be calculated. I still call or email and ask, "Will you help me?"

The cousins who forget that you're not a sibling. They drop what they're doing and say, "What can I do?" I have a cousin who occasionally sends emails to his family. It's his wife, mother and siblings. Somehow, I made the list and I get a little giddy whenever I see my name on the family list. Another cousin with an extremely busy life manages to make me feel important and relevant. She confides in me. And, she lets her daughter visit -- knowing I'm probably a bad influence.

The animals (okay -- technically, not people) who run to you, slather you with kisses, do the "I'm so happy you're here" dance.

Neighbors. We've all gotten so wrapped up in ourselves that we can forget to be good neighbors. I like it when a neighbor calls to say, "There's someone in your yard, is he supposed to be there?" I grew up in an environment where neighbors looked out for each other.

The children. Busy with their own lives and their own struggles. Yet, they manage to find time to email, phone or text. Somewhere in there is a message of love.

Grandparents. If you're lucky enough to still have them: hug them. call them. Soak up their love and their knowledge. (Ask them for money.)

In-laws. I miss the Captain and the Belle. They influenced me in a great and profound way.

Oldies. Take a lesson from me. Help that old woman with her groceries. Ask that man if he needs help across the street. Listen to their stories. You're not doing them a favor -- you're getting an education.

The husband. Maybe you have one of those marriages where you never disagree, you never get on each other's nerves and you never break a promise. I don't. I have a marriage that keeps me on my toes. (I tried it the other way -- I got bored.) I like learning from my spouse. If nothing else, he keeps me interested.

Oldies Lessons

It's not exactly haunting but I still feel the oldies. I dream of them. I think of them as I look at butter. I must be moving on because I'm able to eat fried foods again -- as long as they aren't cooked in my kitchen.

Our supplies of paper products are dwindling. The Belle would be on the case. She would march out with Hangdog -- she did not walk, she marched -- and restock. I think she's tapping me on the shoulder.

I've tried to figure out the lessons I was supposed to learn through the oldies experience. Here's what I think so far:

Families who get along all the time don't know each other very well.
Honor thy father and mother.
The verbal jab is not as harsh if you start it with, "Love, I need to tell you ..."
Your children, whether 6 or 60, will always be your children.
Sometimes it's okay to admit that you don't like your family.
There's a delicate balance between dependency and independence. No one knows the formula.
Don't shame the family name.
Accessorize.
Work that you love is a gift.
Learn to make a couple of dishes and make them your specialty.
Never forget a grandchild's birthday.
A deal is a deal.
Music is a salve.
Sometimes you have to choose between being right and being happy.

What did she learn from me? Probably things like:

Relaxing on the patio takes the stress away.
Wearing comfortable clothing to the doctor is okay.
Home cooking doesn't have to happen three times a day.
Some foods taste better when they're not fried or boiled to death.

The Belle is tapping me. Some lessons came along too late for her to abide by but she still imparted the wisdom to others.

Body Parts

Men used to announce, "I'm a leg man." Or, "I'm a breast man." I have no idea if young men still do this -- I'll have to ask the baby -- but it always stuck with me.

Many body parts betray us as we age. Some parts get wrinkly and droopy. Others just diminish, like eyesight or hearing.

I am not a young person but I'm not an oldie either. One of my favorite things about the Belle was her absolute refusal to be old. Kicky clothes and kicky shoes made her happy. She was the Queen of Accessories. I was taking notes.

My mother asked me to stop writing about our weird legs. Sorry! You can't tell me what to write. I have been fighting these legs my entire life. Throw in a major dose of middle age and suddenly, they're not just weird shaped. Now they have wrinkly knees (too much sun) for added fun.

When I was a child, my friends Kim and Angel had beautiful legs. I haven't seen Angel in years but Kim still has them. Jan has gorgeous legs. My friends Mickey and Cynthia have serious gams. I've made the mistake, more than once, of being photographed next to one or all of them in a swimsuit.

Lately I am surrounded by young women with these gazelle-type legs. My goddaughters, my neighbors, my niece Kelly and daughters of friends. I stare. I drool. I know it's a sin but I covet them.

I still wear shorts and skirts. Leg men would run away. Deal with it.

Is there such a thing as men who are attracted to arms?

Marital Strife

The Belle told me that the sex organs are the last ones to go. I tried to wipe that image out of my head.

On the "Today Show" the other morning, they featured two couples. Both had written books and both had to do with their sex lives. One couple chronicled their experiment to recommit to their sex life over 101 days. The other couple vowed to have sex every day for 30 days. Maybe you have to understand my sense of humor but I found this intriguing and hysterically funny.

Marital issues usually come down to:

Money
Children
Exes, if you have them
Parents
Household chores
Sex

We don't fight about household chores. I do as many as I can stand. My dad pitches in with projects. Houseboy does the bulk of it. I've never mowed a lawn in my life and I plan to keep it that way. I'm pretty good at weed pulling.

We don't fight about sex either. We prefer to annihilate each other over more mundane things.

Then, it's the middle of the night and your legs are intertwined. Or, you decide to clean your wedding ring and you read the inscription inside for the millionth time. Or, you dance on the patio and fight about who gets to lead.

Or, you go to a wedding and hold hands and then say quietly to each other, (like you're speaking to the bride and groom,) "Don't do it!" This cracks us up.

Forget that list above. I'm convinced a sense of humor will see you through.

Housekeeping

I have a couple of great aunts that take house cleaning to the stratosphere. I got out of line when they were assigning this gene. It does not interest me except when the husband leaves me notes through the dust on the piano.

The Belle took a bizarre interest in cleaning this home. While the oldies were with us, I was the little cheerleader: "You go girl!" Some people would be embarrassed to have their mother-in-law clean their/our grunge. Not me. I was thinking, "Whew!"

Is It Miss, Ms. or Mrs.?

You know those forms where you have to check: married, single, or divorced? I like to check them all. I've been them all so I'm not lying. Do you think transgender people check male and female? When they give you the option of temporary address and permanent address, I like to put my current street address under temporary and then write, "Heaven, I hope" in the permanent box.


How about the salutation box? Your choices are Mr., Miss, Ms., or Mrs. Again, I have often checked all the female options. If you're a man, checking that box tells no one anything. As a woman, checking Miss says, "I'm single." Checking Ms. says, "I'm hanging onto my own identity." Checking Mrs. says, "I'm married." This is way too much information for a woman to provide when a man only has to check Mister.


I must write Miss Manners because I am very confused about the use of the term, "Mrs." My simple, but adequate, education taught me that the term literally meant "wife of..." So in those terms, this would be right:

Mrs. John Smith, (wife of John Smith)
Mrs. John Smith, (widow of John Smith)

This would be wrong:

Mrs. Susan Smith (Is she married to herself?)
Mrs. Smith (when she and John divorced eons ago.)

During our years of living with the oldies, there were two Mrs. Romans in this house and we both carried the title with pride. Callers were often confused but we got a giggle out of it. The Belle used to inspect me before a big event for the husband and say, "Remember, you are Mrs. Roman."


I won't even tell you how much I hate those boxes where you have to declare your age bracket.

'Tis the Season

It's wedding and graduation season. We've reached the point in our lives where most of these ceremonies are for children of our friends.

Folklore tells us that all brides are beautiful. I'm not buying it. I've been to some weddings where the bride was uggo and the dress did nothing to flatter her. It's kind of like saying all babies are beautiful. Maybe they are beautiful to the parents but some of them look like Mikhail Gorbachev.

The White House released photos a few weeks ago of Jenna Bush and her new husband. She was a beautiful bride and I liked it that they chose an intimate setting on the Crawford, TX ranch rather than a full-blown, media-infused White House wedding. I'm paraphrasing a quote that was attributed to Laura Bush: We will be leaving the White House but Jenna and her husband can always walk this land and enjoy the memories of their wedding.

The Belle was a gorgeous bride. I find myself browsing through their wedding photos every time I am looking for a particular picture.

Graduation parties have gone the way of childhood birthday parties. Parents (usually the mother) spend hours or weeks assembling photos for scrapbooks or videos. Scheduling becomes a project worthy of NASA attention.

"Tis the season to wish a lot of young people well as they embark on new chapters. "Tis the season to write a lot of checks. 'Tis the season to keep some tissues handy.

90 Minutes of Fun

A recent study in Women's Health Magazine announced that men spend an average of 90 minutes more fun time each day than women.

To which, I say, "Duh!"

I can only comment on what I see in my world. Here's what I see:

Women with young children who bear the bulk of the child care.

Women who work outside the home and then come home to do the majority of the household stuff.

Women (like the Belle) who devote their entire lives to making sure their spouse is happy.

Women who feel guilty if they read a book or take a bubble bath when there's work to be done.

Women who can balance a baby on one hip (child or grandchild) while loading a grocery cart, unloading the trunk and making something for dinner.

Women who visit friends in the hospital, parents in assisted living and children who might need a hug.

Women who stand by their husbands when he needs it.

Women who know how to use pliers, the snow blower, the lawn mower and more.

Women who juggle a social calendar for their spouse, the never-ending calendar for their children and the medical appointments for the entire family.

Women who wear boots because they couldn't find a pair of matched socks.

Women who know where the spare set of keys are located. All of them.

Women who don't need to scroll through the contact list. They know all of the numbers by heart.

Women who file the paperwork, whether it's insurance or the accountant.

Women who automatically know if the household is low on milk or light bulbs.

Women who suffer and live with arthritis, MS or even more dire circumstances but they still leap the fence for someone they love.

Women who learned the latest technology because that's the preferred way to keep in touch with their children or grandchildren.

Women who make daily to-do lists and later realize there is nothing on the list about their life or their needs.

Sorry guys. I suspect a lot of you owe your wife, daughter and mother a big "Thank You" for keeping your life in order.