Random Happiness

I love being around little kids. The four to six year old set are the best. If only I could shrink down to their size and run around like a nut like they do, that would be heaven.

I held our annual Valentine' s parents night out and kid's sleep-over at our school. The school becomes an indoor playground and we set it up so there's cool stuff to do in every corner.  One of my five year old students, Maya, came running up to me and said, "This is the best time I've ever had in my whole life! In My Whole Life!"  I take being the highlight of any child's day as a real compliment, but of their whole existence. Now we're talking.

Speaking about highlight of the day, Smokey the dog was not left behind. Since he is our guest for three months, we didn't feel right leaving him home alone for so long. Besides he seems to me to be a dog that would like a good party. So Smokey went to the sleep-over too. With six Lil' Dragons constantly on his tail lavishing love and attention, he had a great time. He slept all day the next day. That's what happens when you party too much.

Speaking of partying, I plan to be celebrating this weekend for so many random reasons, yet still connected.

First:  Road Trip. Yeah!
QueenMaker and I will be hitting the road and I love it. A short road trip, only four hours, but enough time to have great conversations, break out some jams and a gigantic bag of trail mix.

Second: Going to Chicago.  Sweet!
Beginning to like this city more and more, except for the surprising thirty-one dollar parking fee. We've been to the Historic Museum, to the Aquarium, had Chicago style pizza, and checked out the University of Chicago. My son moved there almost six months ago, long enough to explore what the city has to offer. We're going to Chinatown, a jazz club, and checking out a Frank Lloyd Wright home in the area. We're looking forward to his tour.

Third:  My Son, Beloved.  (blinking back the tears)
My one and only and I miss him dearly. This is our reason for going, to see our son. Our friendship with him continues to grow. Since our parent/child relationship is partially behind us, we hope that he continues to turn to us not only as his parents but as his dear friends as well.

Fourth:  Permanent Full Time Employment. Yeah!
Beloved has been discovered!  He has part-time employment at a bookstore and was hired as a coffee barista, but he works in all the departments when needed.  His store is closing so he's been worried about finding a new job. A woman customer noticed that he was everywhere it seemed at once. She complimented on his excellent customer service and his willingness to help out his fellow co-workers.  And then she offered him a job. Full-time employment with benefits and a raise in pay.  Woo-hoo!

Fifth: My Wedding Anniversary! Kisses.
This is why I picked this weekend to go see our son. To celebrate our love, to celebrate what our union gave us, Beloved, and to celebrate the many years of happiness we have shared.



Speaking about happiness we have all shared, head over to Keely's UnMom and read the tales of the more random happiness happening over there.

Distracted Bitch - And It's Not My Dog

In this edition of Random Tuesday Thoughts, a secret is revealed, eccentric persona emerge, a geological phenomena simile. "Cats! Dogs! Living together...!", metaphors for life, and a husband gets a break.





Here's a little secret.  I've changed.

Inside this sweet, fuzzy warm, very loving person  I've become, was once a hardened, seething, anguished waiting-to-pounce bitch. She doesn't appear anymore.

Okay. Maybe a couple days of the month, she reappears, but really just a mere shadow of her past self and only for minutes at a time. Really. Take my word for it. She's hardly recognizable anymore.   Right Honey?

Now, where did he go?

But like the newly formed volcano, erupting angry lava carelessly in its youth, years and years of trials and tribulations, experience and wisdom have cooled down the exterior. It hibernates in the depths, underneath cool waters and spring meadows. No longer recognized as a volcano. Really.  Believe me. It's true.

But occasionally steam does rises. It's sounds like a slow hiss.

And it sounds like a cat's hiss.  And I am very much a cat. And cats usually don't get along with dogs.

Smokey, our temporary dog boarder, just wants to be loved. And loved. And loved. And loved.

His exuberance and "love-me" eyes were hard to resist, but now when I come through the door I find it maddening. So I have taken to ignoring his requests for instant affection gratification. Later on, he will insist that ignoring him is just out of the question. So I relent.

Now I'm not one that likes things that are too needy. Girlfriends who need to be pacified too much, boyfriends that need constant validation, folks that are touchy feel-y, arm tappers, wide-eyed dramatic people (besides myself), and delusional love starved dogs.

Because They. Want. Too. Much. And since I don't have the personality or fortitude to give it to them, I feel slightly guilty and put upon, and seriously, who needs that?

So the dog and I have been going through a ritual, a one sided conversation where I tell him all the things I won't do for him.  Telling him to stop watching me.  To quit following me around the house all the time. Don't you dare lick me. That I recognize his ploy of bringing me his toys. Interrupting conversations by chomping on his squeaky toy. That this is MY food and I'm not sharing. Sure he gets the occasional display of affection. But  I let him know that I am not going to sit there and pet him for hours.

As the dog and I were going another round, QueenMaker looks at Smokey and gratefully says:

"Dog, you don't know how happy I am to have you here."

Touche.  QueenMaker.  Touche.



So off you go to Keely's for more random happenings and distractions.  You'll find a lovely group of personalities there that you'll want to get to know. They don't seem too needy either.  Awesome.

Random Words

Pressure - That's when you have six highly diverse projects with deadlines that fall within one week of each other in February.

Balance - That's when you help your sanity by staying on track, continue hacking away at the debris, to remove each item from the dust bowl in your head, and then, maybe, there's still a ray of hope that it will all get done and done properly - the Slow March of Progress.

Excuses - trying to stay away from the emotional, depressing, anger filled, distractions that can put a halt to the Slow March of Progress and turn it into the I Don't Give a Flick Anymore - Lying in Bed All Day Doldrums.

Weathered - Everything looks weathered. My car, my house, my poor coat, my boots, my life, my hair, my face, and my patience. Winter needs to pick up its long grey weathered coat and get out of here!

Space - Home on the range. Vast Space. Free range chickens. Space to run. Time to Run. Space time continuum. Time to spare. Time to think. Thinking freely. Running freely. Freedom. Space equals Freedom. I want a lot of both.

Distractions - Lots of them.  To stop you, to boost you, to help you weather the bad stuff, to keep you from doing the good stuff, to give you space, to give you excuses, to offer balance or to keep you off balance, or to take the pressure off or to turn up the heat.  It could go either way.

Either way, head over to UnMom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Sugar Make You Go - Go Do Random Stuff

Well I've done it again.  My motor is revving and there is no stopping me now.  Let me see.  Let me count the sugary ways that somehow, randomly, don't know how it happened, got into my body.  

First:

Pies:  Loads of them.  From Thanksgiving forward, there are pies and cheesecakes. Pumpkin pie, pecan pie, apple pie, spinach pie, strawberry cheesecake, turtle cheesecake, all the way to New Years.

Second:

Cookies! Tons and tons of them. My mother in law who has been pretending she's been dying for the last six months, had her medication adjusted by her new nurse, greatly improving her quality of life. She feels more vibrant and can breath more easily. To prove it, she made eight gigantic batches of eight different kinds of the most delicious cookies.  But with whom can she share these fabulous mountain of cookies?  Me, of course!

More cookies! The mother of a student of mine sent in a gigantic tray of homemade cookies and muffins, along with handfuls of chocolates. The centerpiece was two caramel apples, one covered in white chocolate chips and the other in dark.  Do I have to eat them all?

Christmas Party for the kids at our school.  All the wonderful parents brought treats, cookies, cupcakes, cookies, sweet tamales, cookies, twizzlers, and cookies.

Third:

Chocolates:  Who gave me this ginormous bag of Ghirardelli Squares?  Hell, who gave me this other bag of Ghirardelli  squares?  People stop it!

Fourth:

Birthday Cakes:  Why does everyone in my family procreate in March?  Ladies are you so cold that you pretend to forgive your husband, or pretend to be asleep, or suddenly your headache is cured, so you can snuggle up close and grab some of that fiery furnace heat coming off your man? Ladies, that can only lead to one thing.You know what I'm saying. Consequently December babies are dropping left and right around here!

I proclaim that March is a NO SEX month! Who's with me?  Please family, I can't afford the birthdays and the baby Jesus' birthday too.  No. More. Cake.


Fifth:

Baklava:  My Birthday.  For most people, they get to wipe their brows and thank their stars that the holidays are over and all the food they have consumed over the past two months will soon find its way out of their systems. But each year for my birthday I get a half a tray of baklava. And. I. Eat. Them. Like. They're. Potato Chips.  So there's that.


So as my little nephew likes to say, "Sugar Make You Go." 
Took my nephew to school.
Went to the fruit/vegetable market.
Went to the school to work a couple of hours.
Cleaned my room. It was a mess.
Organized my sewing and craft room.
Created a marketing slash office slash budget slash personal goals slash, weight loss plan for the next six months. As a spreadsheet.
Called everyone and made appointments with everyone.
Took down both Christmas trees.
Made onion rings.
Talking a lot to anyone and no one.
Dancing down the decked halls.
Imparted great wisdom on the web.
Reviewed the latest Adult Education brochure that came in the mail. Circled some classes.
Colored my hair.
Updated my weekly and monthly calendar.
Completed some on-line banking.
Reorganized pictures for our web guy.
Rewrote copy - four pages worth.
Emailed my son three times. I kept forgetting to tell him stuff.
Cleared off every flat surface in the house.  Almost.
Visited with my sister, niece, and nephew.
Baked chocolate chip cookies.

Yes, I made chocolate chip cookies. But thankfully they're for my 21 year old niece for her birthday. She insists I make her a batch every year before she goes back to school. She's a December baby too. The love of cookies is strong in my family.

Did I eat some of those cookies? Only one from every batch that came out of the oven. Or only the ones that were almost burned or too brown to give away. Only a dozen or so. They're almost gone.

Anywho...

The accelerated particle collider gots nuthin' on me. I might create my own black-hole right here in the living room. So stand back. No really. Stand back.

I've got more to do and there's so little time. I suspect that this sugar high will last about another week or so and then I can relax again with the same lazy panache that is so my trademark.



So onward to the next thing, and then the next.  Go to Keely's and check out the list of randomness going on over there and get back to me later.

My Brain is having an Eclipse

I'm feeling kind of random. My head is so full of stuff that I can't think straight. There's about five lists floating around in there and they're all getting mixed up. Instead of progress, I wander around trying to figure out what to do next. Too much data. Does not compute. Overload. Overload.
Obviously, I need more coffee.

Random thought:
Weather - Seven days of Caribbean breezes, lovely cool bright mornings, perfect warm afternoons, and never ending blue skies. The feeling is still inside of me and I'm holding on to that feeling for dear life. Because the day I came back to Michigan it was 22 degrees for a high, and has stayed that way since the second week in December. Everywhere I look, the sky, the ground, the snow, the cars covered in salt are all cold and grey. Grey, grey, grey.

I regularly pause to meditate on the island I just left with its blue skies and warm breezes. Closing my eyes, I can still feel the warmth. Yes, I still got it. It helps me get through these wintery days.

Random thought:
Christmas Menu - How can I make a shopping list, when Sister After Me still hasn't decided on the menu yet. Times a tickin', which means I'll be at some grocery store in the middle of the night or worst yet on Christmas Eve day. Please. No. More. Stores.

Random thought:
Lil' Dragons and Kid's Christmas Party - Baking away and wrapping forty little trinkets for my kung fu students. Luckily a sub-par wrap job is fine because how else can you wrap yo-yos, poppers, sling shots with parachute skateboard guys, princess wands, jean stickers, and flip cars?  Any way you can.

Random thought:
Wrapping Christmas Gifts for the family like a Crazy Woman - until three in the morning. Feet hurt, something is poking me in the back, and my state of mind isn't getting any better. I'm hoping a little snooze will help. Decided at 2:22am that I should take a gander at the total lunar eclipse.I ran outside  trying to find the moon's position in the sky. Took me a few moments to realize that it was cloudy.

Random thought:
"Been shopping?  Nooooo, I've been shopping." Done as of yesterday. No more stores. (Sigh of relief.)

Random thought:
Miss My Mommy - When I got back from the Caribbean, I sent my mom a box full of stuff she forgot to pack. Before I taped up the box, I got my santa hat and put it into the box. I know she'll wear it for at least two weeks, until they celebrate Three Kings Day in January. She said the weather turned worse after I left. It rained hard for days. My mother said that "the island was sad to see me go and was crying." Me too island, me too.

Now that we have gone full circle with my random thoughts, go over the Keely at UnMom for more of Random Tuesday Thoughts.

Whistler's Mother

Let me start out by saying, I will be 50 something in a couple of months. I've been told that I look younger. I chose to believe people when they say that, because I'm always grasping for straws of hope that age hasn't caught up with me yet. But actually it's probably because I don't have that "put together look" that most women learn by now. Anyways, I dress for comfort and warmth.  And I'm feeling and looking old. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of wearing clothes that don't flatter.  I look at my dismal wardrobe and think, "What was I thinking?"

So after watching a mountain of episodes of the program, "What Not to Wear" and several marathons of "Say Yes to the Dress" and rushing home every Thursday to watch my favorite program "Project Runway," I've come to learn the magical powers of the empire waist.  I've learned what an A-line skirt can do for the legs. I learned that wearing baggy clothing to hide your body backfires. I learned that any size woman can find clothes that make her look terrific. I learned the meaning of the flattering silhouette, proportion, styling, and couture.

So after a few months of experimentation, I'm buying things I never would have even looked at before. I went sleeveless for the first time this summer.  I bought my first sandals. Sandals that show my feet and toes. Egads!  I try everything on and if it doesn't look absolutely fabulous on me, I won't buy it. Not even if it is 60% off!

I straightened my curly hair.  It's actually pretty long. My stomach got flatter when I figured out what foods made me feel inflamed and got rid of them. I still need to start an exercise program, but girl, I've been saying that for three, four, five decades.

Compliments are nice to hear again. People ask me if I have lost weight. Not an ounce. But miracle upon miracles, I got whistled at and not by the 70-year-old, old dude down the street.  I haven't been whistled at in 25 years. I got whooped at too.   Hells Bells!

Men, again, look me over instead of look over me. It's a nice nod to my ego, but since I've been working on reaching an ego-less state, the effect was negligible.  Plus for some inexplicable reason, I found I didn't really miss or even want that kind of attention. I forgot what it felt like to be given a USDA meat grade upon inspection. It's disconcerting. I'm definitely not Prime nor Choice. Hoping for the Select cut. But now, I only want to be selected by my one and only man.

I never thought I would get noticed in that way again. I knew the wolf whistling days were way, way over.  Apparently, the key here is flattering clothes and - great distance.  At a distance (at least a half a block) I look effin' hot!

But it's hard to keep it all up. It's easy to go back to the comfort of my sweats or baggy jeans. Been in them again for about a month. But I plan to keep it up and have my eye on revamping my winter wardrobe.

The last guy that drove by and whistled was rather young. He stuck his body out of the car waving his hands. I just shook my head, perturbed that he couldn't tell the difference and yelled for him to get a pair of glasses.

I was old enough to be that whistler's mother.

Planning a Surprise Party Takes Over Your Life

Well hello there, Random Tuesday Thoughts.  I have so much random stuff to tell you, especially after the weeks of adrenalin rushes, trials and tribulations, and random stuff that happens to you when you are trying to put together a surprise birthday party.



Surprise parties are hard to give, especially when you live with the person who is supposed to be the surprisee. The idea popped in my head about a month ago. Once I got the go ahead from my sister, she's letting me use her home for the party, I made a time chart. I made lists and lists. I planned and strategized. Timing was everything.

Then you start lying, and lying, and lying. Damn. I didn't bargain for this part of the plan. I needed to make up stories as to why I was going to my sister's so much. Why was I making so much food? Why was I doing all the work? Why did he have to go anyways? Who was going to be there? Why was my sister throwing this event?  This lying part was getting to me.

The universe can be very helpful during times like this. One, QueenMaker and I had argued, so we weren't too communicative. Two, the day before the party, he was called away to a late afternoon meeting. Then the universe somehow gave him a second meeting to go to right after the first one and he wasn't expected home until midnight.

Yahoo! I finished cooking, did some last minute shopping, and took everything to my sister's. He didn't suspect a thing and the party was a great success.

Then the universe does random stuff that can hinder you when you are trying to keep a secret. The week of the party, when I'm doing the final push to get everything ready, QueenMaker decides to take one of our cars into the shop for repairs.
"But I NEED a car this week."
"Why, we can drive together."
Mayday! Mayday! I might need to borrow a car!

Luckily it was done the same day.

Then we had to give a presentation to a local elementary girl scout troop called Stranger Smart, which took much longer than I thought it would. I have to say it was a blast, the girls were terrific, artistic, and super fun. But time was a tickin' and I needed to get out of there.

Then all week, I was deflecting our four to eight year old students that kept running up to
QueenMaker to ask about his party. I'd cover with, "Isn't that cute? They want to give you a party at the school."

By Friday, my head was swirling, running lists in my head, running around with last minute errands. I had a premonition the day before, when I thought, I better keep focused because I'm driving. It's not good to be so scattered. It's the perfect time to get a ticket.

Then my mother called me to ask if I would pick up her prescription.  Dear me! So I added that to the list and hurried to pharmacy.

I was so distracted I thought, I REALLY SHOULD NOT be driving right now. And the police officer driving behind me felt the same way. A yield sign was recently replaced with a new stop sign a few weeks ago near the pharmacy. "Remember," I thought to myself.  But two seconds later, I rolled slowly past it, merging in front of a police cruiser.

I wholeheartedly agreed and admitted to him that I had just rolled past a stop sign. He took pity on me and thanked me for my honesty and instead of the 3 points and $500 fine for going through a stop sign, he gave me a ticket for impeding traffic, only $135 fine, no points. I have to thank the man. He probably saved my life.

Damn this party is costing me more and more. Not only do I get to add another $135 to the tab, but my brain cells are fried, my body is working on fumes, and I've lied more in one week than in my whole life.

The adrenalin drop was profound. I've been in high gear for two weeks, trying to keep twenty balls in the air at the same time. Every spare second was used to its fullest. I planned, strategized, worked, cooked, lied, covered every contingency, then when it was all over, I crashed. I slept for two days.

The only thing is that the party was over so quickly. I didn't get to visit as much as I wanted. I was stuck in the kitchen. Everyone got there at 6:30pm and three hours later, they were gone. Where did they all go?  Where's the "party 'til you drop" mentality I was hoping for?  Are we all getting that old? Sigh.


Go visit Keely at UnMom.  The party is still going on strong and not a fuddy-duddy in the whole group.

Oh Canada, There Some Random Loveliness Happening Up There

It's Random Tuesday Thoughts, yeah!  Go visit.




Randomness happens all the time, particularly when you go out of town. Because nothing is the norm. Nothing is familiar, so everything is a random happening.  Especially if someone else makes out the itinerary for you. Great fun, but effin' exhausting!

I went to Canada!
Winnipeg, Canada, to be exact, the heart of the Canadian Midwest. For some reasons there are comparisons made between Detroit and Winnipeg so they tell me, but for the life of me, I don't see the similarities.

Winnipeg is a beautiful city, rich history, clean, great architecture, great fishing, beautiful rivers, and great restaurants. After our guided tour with a friend that obviously loves his city, I fell in love with the "Peg" too.

Every time we said we were from Detroit, the Canadian response was overwhelmingly positive. Usually when traveling in the states or even in my own home state of Michigan, I don't tell people we are from Detroit. The response is negative and about stereotypes. However, in Winnipeg, I heard how they love Detroit, Motown, the Detroit sports teams, and the car industry. That was a nice surprise.

Our trip began with a drive under the Detroit River to get to Windsor. We have two choices in Detroit for border crossings, one is the bridge and the other is the tunnel. The last time I went through using the tunnel was back in 1979 and there was water running down the walls. Yikes!  Happily in 2010,  I can report not a sign of water.

As an American citizen, I'm used to hearing a lot of fear mongering on my side of the border. Border problems, a grueling customs search, ready to show "my papers", the illegal alien problems, immigration problems, bad people trying to sneak over and plotting to do harm to our country problems. So with passport, birth certificate, driver's license and even my voter's registration card in hand, and feeling every bit like an intruder trying to sneak into another country, I approached the Canadian border with apprehension and was ready for anything.

You know what I got?  Welcome to Canada! Have a great trip and a really nice day.      Oh, Canada.

Windsor airport - small and petite, no fluff, no muss, one small terminal. What, no wait at the counter? No long lines at security?  No color coded alerts.  Oh, Canada.   Are you trying to lull me into a false sense of security or something?

The airline we flew touted their slogan, we never over or double book - be confident that you'll always have your seat. What?  Are they treating me like a valued customer, with respect for me and the money I spent with their airline? Are they honoring our implied contractual agreement and putting me on a plane, that is well maintained, on time, and has a seat for everyone?  Oh yeah, and each person gets two check in two pieces of luggage and can take two overheads and best of all at no extra charge.

"Memories, light the corner of my mind...."  Sorry, got distracted.

With a lay-over in our flight itinerary, we had to take off twice, Windsor to Calgary, then Calgary to Winnipeg. We flew right over Winnipeg on our way to Calgary and waved to it from high above. I know, I know. We flew a three and a half hour flight to Calgary just to get on another plane to fly back an hour to Winnipeg.    Next time, we're getting a direct flight.

The amazing thing was when we got onto our planes, no one was pushing or shoving. No one was more important than anyone else. Everyone waited with patience and courtesy. And when the plane stopped and passengers made ready to disembark, each row was allowed to empty before the next row.
How orderly, how courteous.

Those Canadians waited their turn and didn't fill the aisle to be the first one out. They thanked each other, helped each other with the overhead luggage and waited patiently for their turn. What was this? Courtesy begot courtesy. Patience begot patience. I felt like a sentient, logical, common sense human being.

Oh, Canada - can I move here?  What? Temperatures can get to be -26 Celsius in the winter. On second thought, never mind. I will admire you from afar.

So when I got home, on the last leg of our journey, and the plane landed in Windsor, everyone promptly jumped from their seats and herded into the aisle, pushing and shoving to be the first out the plane door. Queenmaker was trapped standing patiently, awaiting his turn to exit. But he was blocked time and time again until all the important cattle herded out the door.  He looked at me in surprise. "What happened to all the manners?"

"Honey, those were US citizens, not Canadians."

"Oooooh."

Memories light the corner of my mind.

Misty water color memories

Of the way we were.

Scattered picture of the smiles we left behind, 

Smiles we gave to one another

For the way we were.

Can it be that it was all so simple then,

Or has time rewritten every line?

If we had a chance to do it all again, 

Tell me? would we? could we?

Please.

Visit Keely for more great Canadian hospitality and friendly, down home blogging.

RTT: Household Workouts

Random Tuesday Thoughts is here.


Picking a room today and spending an hour in it.  Clean it, purge it, reorganize it.  I promise to stay in ONE room.

My cleaning style has always been go to go from room to room. For example, I find something that needs to go into the linen closet. Linen closet could use some work. Start working on linen closet. I notice towels are missing. Hit the laundry room to get towels, laundry room needs tidying up. Notice floor needs mopping. Start to mop.  And on and on and on.  All rooms always have that work in progress feel.

Today, ONE ROOM.


Speaking about cleaning.  I've taken a job cleaning a loft apartment in one of the trendier downtown districts. I usually go every other week. Unfortunately for me, all the surfaces are either glass, stainless steel, stone countertops, slate floors, stone and marble floors. Altogether a bitch to make it all shine. It takes me four hours minimum. I call it my workout. My body screams at me for days after it.


Speaking of body ache. I mentioned to Queen Maker that my body really ached from all that "exercise" cleaning that loft.  He says his body aches everyday because of his training and exercise regime. You mean that this is how you WANT to feel, all the time? No wonder no one sticks with exercise.


Speaking about getting exercise. Sister After Me asked me what my free time looked like. She has access to a lake and wants to buy a raft. She's looking for a partner to paddle around the lake for exercise and fun. Random thoughts popped into my head.

Panic, life preserver, holes, leaks, shrinking raft, feet not touching bottom, a yellow flotilla of death, shifting uncomfortably to one side then the other trying to maneuver an oar, wet butt.  The usual.

I think I'll pass.

Speaking about passing. I think it's time to pass the baton to the next blog at UnMom. So visit and read a while. It'll be a workout.

Witness To Spring and The End of Smokes

I've been waiting for Spring for such a long time.  But with every Random Tuesday Thoughts rolling by so quickly,  I feel like time is running out.

I need to make every effort to watch the season carefully.  I need to be outdoors, to notice the ever changing landscape which seems to change hourly.  The baby greens burst out quickly this year.  The contrast from just a few weeks ago is striking.  It went from bare to lush.  The flowering trees are blooming and the spring flowers have made their appearance.  I drive past the park everyday and everyday brings something new. This week a blanket of yellow dandelions dots the landscape.

I sometimes look out the window from my desk and feel like I'm missing it.  It's as though I'm allowing another opportunity to slip by and unfortunately, that means another year before spring is here again. Even though I am fully aware of the spring, it's seem like I am admiring it from afar.   I've got to go out there and feel it, to be a witness to it.  

Because before you know it, six Tuesdays will go by and it will be gone. 

Computer or outside.  

Technology or Nature.

Small screen or panoramic view.        

Scattering distracting minutia or tranquil reflective centering.

Choices, choices.  

I wish I had a laptop, then I can take my technology with me and sit under a quiet shady tree feeling the spring breezes.  That would be so pleasant.  But that would be making spring background scenery, just a backdrop to my day.  It's not really an interaction.  And I'm looking for interaction.  

I feel it. A NATURE SAFARI is about to commence. 

I would highly recommend you take one in the near future. Go on an adventure. Take another human with you, one that would appreciate it.  Take binoculars, a camera, a sketch pad. Take a walk in nearby woods or county park. Put on your boots, cross a stream, turn over rocks, look for new growth, get down and dirty. 

Speaking about interacting with nature, Smokey, the most zen dog in the universe, will be leaving our care and going back home.  Seven weeks are up and my parents will be home on Friday.  QueenMaker finds the dog comical and has laughed non-stop for seven weeks.  I can't tell if he's laughing at the dog or just laughing because the dog makes him happy. 

For sure, one day, when we are old, and starved for affection, or craving for someone or something to accept our love one last time, we will get a dog.  Just like Smokey.  

So I looked him up. He is a tibetan terrier, which is not a terrier at all.  His doggie ancestors were raised by tibetan monks 2000 years ago. No wonder he's so zen. They were temple dogs and considered good luck charms. The monks would never sell the dogs but would often give them as gifts.  

It makes me happy.  You know the seven degrees of separation?   Smokey somehow connects me to the high altitudes of the Tibetan Himalayas, to the yellow and red robes of the monks, and to 2000 year old Buddhist temples.   Thanks, dog.

Now when I go visit my parents, will I go to see them or to visit Smokey, the Zen Dog.   

"Oh, I'm not here to see you, Mom. Just the dog."  

Oh she would love that.   First she would give me that look to see if I was serious.   Then she would pretend to be hurt.  I can hear her now.  Then every time I came over after that she would direct me to the dog, because of course, her daughter is not here to see her. I don't care about her, just the dog.  She would announce to the dog, "your mother's here."  Hey!    Oh, it would go on for weeks and weeks. 

Although I will miss the dog for about a minute, rest assured, my heart will not suffer any "Smoke Damage" when he leaves. 

(Yes, I said it.  Been trying to work that in for weeks.)

So if I haven't damaged you with my rather lengthy random post, work your way over to Keely at UnMom for more Random Tuesday Thoughts.

   

RTT: The Pendulum Won't Stop Swinging

Tuesdays mean Random Tuesday Thoughts.  So head over to Keely's for more of the same.


Okie Dokie, here's the deal.   I'm feeling rather yin and yang this week. The pendulum won't stop swinging.

My kid is all grown up and doesn't need me anymore.  Ha!   It's liberating and very, very disturbing at the same time.    Bitter Sweet.

Our business is picking up lately but still on life support. The cart keeps coming around, but the business keeps picking up its head and proclaiming, "I'm not dead yet."    Optimistic Realist.

My mom and dad are away for two months.  I miss them but at the same time I'm feeling "guilty happy" because I've got more free time on my hands.   Guilty Comfort.

My house needs a good cleaning, but I don't feel like doing it.  But that little pan in the sink needs a good scouring.  I think I'll spend 20 minutes brillo-ing all the dark spots off until it shines.   Lazy Ambition.

I was all ready to participate in Earth Hour. The staunch conservationist and avid recycler in me was ready to turn off the lights. Then I got all militant on my ass and thought to hell with it.  I'm not a joiner.  I don't do causes.  I stood there arguing with myself.  What's up with that?  Oh yeah.  Menopause.   Crystallized Moments of Confusion.

The gray at my temples is becoming too prominent. My sisters keep telling me to color my hair.  But I don't want to bend to peer pressure or vanity.  But I guess I'll do it anyways, because I do want to look a few years younger.  Better to Look Good than to Feel Good.

It's been a weird week.

Aging - One Lemon, One Lemonade

One Lemonade:

I've worn glasses since the first grade. I'm very nearsighted and my eyesight has progressively gotten worse over the years. My range of vision has gotten shorter and shorter that I feel more comfortable taking off my glasses and bringing whatever I'm working on right up to my nose.

But aging also means that now I need bifocals. Stupid aging. I hate you. I can't bring things right up to my nose anymore. I loathe the whole bifocal experience. But when I remove my glasses, my range of clear vision is now at a range of only 5 inches to 10 inches from my face.

QueenMaker is farsighted and also needs reading glasses. But because of that stupid aging thing, his range has diminished quite a bit as well. His range of clear vision is from 24 to 30 inches.

After hugging me the other day, he extended his arms and held me far enough away so he could see me clearly.


Me: You mean you can't see me clearly?

QM: Nope, can't see you at all. I mean I can see you, but not clearly.

Me: You mean that you can't see my face. It's blurry?

QM: Right. You have to be at least two feet away before I can see your face clearly.

Me: You mean no matter how old I look, you can't see the wrinkles or lines on my face?

QM: Right. Not up close at least. And really, not far away either because at 24 o 30 inches your facial features aren't as prominent at that distance. It's like you have a soft filter on your face.

Me: You mean like in the movies? That means you will always see me in your mind's eye as I was, not as I am. I will always be youthful and beautiful, with a soft glow. 

QM: I guess that's true. 

Me: Yahoo! What a perk. That makes me so happy. I could be an old hag, with a giant pimple or wart on my nose and you wouldn't know the difference would you?

QM: No. But I'm sure someone would warn me or something.

Me: Yahoo! Just think of it. You can't see me aging and I can't really see you aging either. That takes a load of my mind. I will from this time forward be timeless.


I danced merrily out of the room to look for a mirror.



One Lemon - When lemonade gets turned back into sour lemons, the flip-side.

My 49 year old sister who SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER, decided to go sledding with her 11 year old daughter. Everything went well the first five runs down the hill until on the sixth, when her sled hit a giant bump. She landed on her tailbone and compressed three of her disks. She is in agony.

Apparently it is a common injury that could have been very serious, in some cases causing paralysis. After some research on the internet, she said, "I should have checked the internet first before I went sledding."

Shouldn't we all check with the internet before we do anything?

Seriously. As a middle aged woman, shouldn't she know that speeding uncontrollably down a hill is never a good idea? Doesn't she remember that summer when her rollerblades caught the edge of a driveway and sent her hurdling forward, cracking both elbows? She had to wear casts that rendered her helpless. She walked around with her arms in a perpetual, "This is a hold up! Hands in the air!" kind of position. She couldn't feed, dress, or wipe herself for weeks.


Remember people. The body hates impact. It will make you pay.



So if you’re into high impact or prefer softer speed bumps, sled on over to Keely’s, oh sorry, I mean Bitchin' Wives Club, for some high speed and invigorating Random Tuesday Thoughts, but put your glasses on first.

RTT: Something's Got To Go

It's Random Tuesday Thoughts once again.   So in the spirit of randomness, I've written down the first things that popped into my head.

Question and Answer Period:

I’ve always wanted to hear a president say FU.  I believe I’m finally hearing it said, but in the nicest way possible.  The recent Q & A session between the President and the Re-pube-licks was a beautiful thing to hear.  I enjoyed it immensely.

There’s a metronome ticking in my head.  I think it’s the march of time.

Under-wire bras suck. I keep thinking I’m having a heart attack.

Biting my nails big time again.  That is not a good sign.

Bought a swifter kit.  Used it once.  Dust taking over.  Cough. Cough.

Of all my K2 sized flaws, my minimal housekeeping is the last guilt I must conquer.  I must figure out how not to feel so guilty about it.  Cough, hack, hack.

Thinking about my life roles a lot lately. Daughter, daughter in law, sister, aunt, teacher, role model, mother, wife, companion, lover, friend, queen, business owner, instructor, marketer, financier, manager, char woman, confidant, therapist, researcher, individual, and creator.  How do I satisfy so many facets of myself?  How do I satisfy the responsibility of each of those roles that I feel must be met?  

I’m feeling a little overwhelmed. So that is when distracting minutia takes place to help quell the guilty feelings, to keep me looking industrious and busy, and thus temper the demand of those roles. The benefactors will learn to say, “Well, she is so busy. Poor thing. How does she manage to do it all?”

That’s right. I can’t do everything. 

Housekeeping?  Sorry, you’ve been dropped off the list of top priorities again.  Hang in there kid.  You will always be on my mind, so don’t you worry.  We’ll pick things up again real soon. 

You may want to continue picking things up. I suggest you visit Keely at UnMom and pick through other Random Tuesday Thoughts.

RTT: Challenge, Life's Motivator

I am so excited.  Project Runway starts on Thursday.  This is the only "reality" program I will watch.  Why?  Because I get to watch super talented people, displaying their versions of art in clothing form down a runway.  I am not a fashionista, but I do love sewing.  I love construction.  I love tailoring.  I love the drape.   I love artisans.  I love to watch the talented express themselves. They are challenged and they always step up to produce some great pieces.

I wish I could challenge Dr. Henry Louis Gates, Jr.  to research my family tree.  In an upcoming episode on PBS, he is tracking down the ancestry of an interesting group of people, Meryl Streep, Stephen Colbert, Yo Yo Ma, Queen Noor, among others.

Remember Gates? He's the guy that President Obama invited to the White House to have a conciliatory beer with the police officer that offended him.

I've tried to trace our family tree, but I found it to be a monumental task.  My major problem stems from the way names are recorded with both mother and father's name as part of the last name.  In some cases, it was normal practice to have the lineage be carried by the mother, which adds to the confusion.  I would have to travel to the island to find birth records in churches, or family bibles.  Then to trace roots beyond the island would mean to travel to Spain.  From what I understand they kept excellent records when they conquered the Caribbean, but the records are in Spain.  I know some of my descendants are Taino indians that were enslaved by the Spanish.  My last name means Bethlehem in Spanish, which means we took the last name of the slave owner.  My mother's ancestry comes directly from Spain.  How about it Mr. Gates? Care to take up the challenge?  Call me.

Speaking of challenge, I have been challenging myself to get stronger and healthier, or at least, not to punish my body.  I took a survey on a women's health website about my habits. It tallied my answers and then gave me the results. It basically said, "You are very hard on your body."  I sort of knew that in the back of my mind, but now it was there spelled out, something I had to confront. Why was I punishing my body by depriving it of what it needed most?

My challenge is to be good to my body. It's not about weight loss, though I suspect that kindness to my body will help in that endeavor.

• Hydrate it. 
• Feed it on regular intervals stretching it out to four or five small meals a day. 
• Allow it to sleep. 
• Find time to go to the bathroom because apparently you are training your body not to expel and it will forget how to do it.  Really?   Use or lose it people.  
• Breathe deeply twice a day. 
• Put my feet up. 
• And think positively.  Because like Stuart Smiley on Saturday Night Live, "I'm Good Enough, I'm Smart Enough, and Doggone It, People Like Me." 

No go over to Keely, because there are a lot of doggone, good and smart people over there.

Weighty Problems

Well RTT is here again. The Random Tuesday Thoughts are flying all over at Keely's. so go take a gander.




Remember the tree?  The one that saved the Christmas spirit for me?  It died the other day.  My little crooked tree just toppled over one night.  I thought it was leaning a little.  We thank it for giving its life, but could it  just have waited until I got the ornaments off of it?

Just when I had a post ready about taking down our beloved ornaments while Christmas choral music played in the background. I have a glass of wine in my hand, singing along.  I lovingly wrap each ornament in tissue paper and finally toasting, paying homage to a bare tree that we mercilessly cut down in the prime of its life thanking it for its fragrance and strong boughs.  Really poetic stuff.  Really. But this tree decided to go out in a dramatic ornament popping fashion.

Speaking of ornament popping, I wish the proto-teens (it's my new favorite word) would stop touching the tree at the school. Isn't it enough that they keep bouncing balls into the thing.  One of them picked up an ornament and promptly dropped it.  Silly human.  Apologizing profusely, touch another one, and dropped that one too.  Dumb proto-teen human.

Speaking of silly humans, I made the mistake of telling my MA kids that I weighed 165 pounds. I also made the mistake of telling them that my goal for the year was to become a healthier and stronger person. Not that I wanted to lose weight, but that I wanted a stronger, fitter body.  I've always said that I wanted to maintain strength well into my eighties and my measure would be my ability to pick up a 50 pound bag of rice, or rock salt, or silly child.

My big mouth told them that I wanted them to become stronger too and that we were going to ramp up the calisthenics and do them together, and that they could watch my progress, and be impressed with my muscles, and that they could ask questions about my nutrition, that I would bring in a scale, watch my belly fat go down, take measurements....... WWwwhaaat!!! have I done?

Now. I. Have. To. Do. It.  Unless I lied.  Another resolution lie.  Heinous.

But now, those proto-teens will swarm around me constantly asking me my progress.  Disappointment in another adult that doesn't say what they mean.  Yes!  Continue with those great life lessons.  Stupid adult human being.

I guess that's why I told them.  It's my last ditch effort to set up a situation that I cannot get out of.  It's not really fair to use them like this, using them as leverage against my 35 years of laziness. But proto-teens are relentless. Also I believe telling children a promise is like whispering a prayer in God's ear.

Plus OMG, I just told you. I guess I am going to have to deliver.

On that note: Weight: 165 lbs.  Height: 5'5"  Waist: 38  Chest: 38   Thigh: 24   Butt: 44

So far in 2010:

Drank three classes of water a day so far.  I know that's low, but its way better than the four ounces I would drink every three days. A bit of dromedary in me. Will ramp up the water intake as time goes one.

Limited my coffee intake to two cups a day.  Not too hard, but I love my warm drink in the winter, so I'm switching to teas.

Picked up a weight the other day.  Actually I just moved it from one side of the room to the other.  To a prominent place, where I would see it everyday, taunting me. Oh all right, come here little dumbbell. "Who you callin' a little dumbbell.  You're the dumbbell.  You're a big. fat. dumbbell!"

Did calisthenics with the proto-teens.  Man, my abs are still kicking it.  Just can't see them under the fat.

Trying to keep my insulin levels in check, so no more sweets, limited bread intake to just two slices a day, had oatmeal and an apple this morning, and took a walk.

So what am I looking to accomplish here.

• Get my digestive tract in good working order.  
• To increase my stamina.  
• To increase my fresh air intake, breath deeply people. I have a tendency to hold my breath.  
• To rearrange pounds from fat to muscle.  
• To regain some strength that this 51 year old has lost these last four years.
• To inspire my kids.
• To feel energized.

That's not too much to ask is it?  Cheer me on if you wish, but it might be better for me if you pretended never to have seen this.  And looking at my stats, that really won't be an issue.

Now go away and go to UnMom and get your fill of RTT's.

RRT - Word Pop Ups

Fish - I'm always thinking the word fish.  Why?  Why?  Why?

Bedding - You know.

Tree - Garbage day tomorrow or keep it up another week.

Adult Child - home

New Year - Decisions must be made!

Laziness - Guilty, my biggest flaw. Consequently,  feeling the perpetual guilt, but still won't do anything about it.

Cold - Cold, shiver, need another layer.

Coffee - Need some now!  Up an hour already, how could I have gone this long without a cup?

Mom - Wants a visit today.

Dad - Never spend enough time with this guy. Clock is ticking.

Time - Never enough.

Random Tuesday Thoughts - over here. 

Season's Clock is Ticking Away

Here is another installment of Random Tuesday Thoughts hosted by the lovely Keely.

Christmas Tree - Grown Up Christmas – just not the same.  We didn’t get a tree last year.  The thought of stomping around in the cold to cut down our annual tree didn’t seem worth it, plus we just couldn’t find the time.  I’ve lost the Christmas spirit.  My house is a the size of a shoe box, removal of furniture is required, the hauling of boxes and boxes of ornaments, lights, wreaths, and garlands just seemed like too much work, for what, three weeks of watching needles fall.

The thrill is gone.  See already it’s happening again.  It’s a mere two and a half weeks out, and I can’t see when we will have the time to put up a tree.  What happened to the festive home I used to know?  Gone since my kid left?  I spend Christmas Eve at my in-laws. I spend Christmas Day at the sister’s.  So why do we need a tree anyways?

I need to find a tree soon otherwise it won’t happen.  I mean seriously, Queen Maker and I were together for seven years before we even had Beloved.  So why am I so down on working this hard for Christmas. I think I'm using Beloved's absence as an excuse. I need an intervention.  But please don’t send three ghosts to do it.

I am not being a good Christmas Role-Model.

Baking – Now here is another story.  I’m always up for baking. Because economic times have been hard, I’ve baked a lot of gifts last year.  Cinnamon Rolls that were to die for, Spinach Pie triangles, cookies upon cookies, to give to friends and clients.  

But unfortunately I sample each and every one.  Sprite’s Keeper reminded me about the battle of restraint that I am going to embark on soon.

Baking – Fun.  Baking – Creative.  Baking – Keeps house warm.

Baking – Good.  Sampling everything – BAD.

I am not being a good Health and Nutrition Role Model.

Shopping – nearly done.  The thought of going out in the next two weeks makes me cringe.  I need to get it done soon because I need to do a lot of baking and decorating.  I need to have time to enjoy these things, not feel like I’m adding to the burden pile. I scour the store circulars and comparison shop like no other.  I am a champion of finding a great gift at a ridiculously low price.  I buy quality at bargain basement prices.

I am not a good Stimulate Our Economy Role-Model.

Sewing – Make a steam punk vest for Beloved for Christmas.  Need to start that project, soooon.  Also bought brocade material in an Asian motif to make a jacket for Queen Maker. Like that’s ever going to happen before Christmas. If I ever get them done, I will post pictures.

Wrapping Gifts – Thank God for gift bags.

Christmas Projects with my niece, Amber, 11 years old, and my friend, Hailey, 5 years old. Hailey, this Friday.  Amber, next week.  I’m looking forward to creating and crafting with the girls. It can be so relaxing and it’s a great way to keep the bonds of friendship strong.

Christmas Get-Togethers – How many invitations will we turn down this year?  It means I need to bring something, preferable food. My hair will never, ever cooperate and will never look fabulous no matter how much time I spend on it. I hate the whole dressing up thing and that is bad.  It means that looking sweet in a new dress and heels doesn’t get seen often. What, Queen Maker? I’m sorry, the sweatshirts and ponytail not getting it for you anymore?  Call What Not to Wear!  Use it or lose it.  And I’ve lost it. 

I am not a Good Friend or a Social Role Model.

I feel time ticking away.  The flight or fight mechanism is kicking in people.  I chose to run away from Christmas last year, but I’m planning to stick it out and stay and fight. Wish me luck.

First Step:

Put some Bailey’s in my coffee and play “A Charlie Brown Christmas” by Vince Guaraldi over and over.  If that doesn’t put me in the mood, I don’t know what will.

Acting Squirrely

Squirrel.  Big fat brown squirrel chewing on my back porch.  Begone you stupid squirrel!

Holes, someone is digging holes into my newly seeded lawn area out front.  Everyday find a new spot. They're more like shallow cups not exactly holes.  Wonder what's doing that and why?

Oh, squirrel.  Big fat brown squirrel is messing with me.  He's eating my back porch and digging up my lawn.  Where's the pellet gun?  Lucky squirrel.  I don't have a pellet gun.

Gigantic seed pods.  How did these seed pods get here half eaten and strewn across all four steps? Who leaves gigantic seed pods as a booby trap to kill innocent women carrying their groceries in the house?   I know it's on purpose because who ever it was spread them across the full length of the steps so I had to step on them. Is that you squirrel?

Urban tumble weeds.  They blow between the houses, swirl a bit, then down the street.  Why can't my neighbors put lids on their trash cans?  Hey! don't you know you can recycle those bags?

Door window.  Big brown squirrel looking through my door window.  WTH?  What's up squirrel?

Getting creepy.  Squirrel antics making me  uncomfortable.  Going on for weeks. Is this really an ordinary squirrel or a zombie squirrel?

Barking.  A supposedly sane woman barking like a ferocious chihuahua at big bad brown squirrel.

No more squirrel. Yeah!  But I think he still had the last laugh.

Go over to Keely at UnMom.  Check out how random folks can be. 

Random Germ-y Family Affairs

Yes, we gathered together for yet another family event. This time it was my beloved niece's birthday.  Whenever the clan gathers, and we gather a lot, there is at least 22 or more people in the house ages four months to eighty years old. These events despite their joyful, fun filled, somewhat harmonious family state of affairs have a more ominous side to them.  I'm beginning to dread them just a little.

They have become a germ convention.  All the kissing and hugging, the clasping of hands, the carrying of sick babies and snotty children.  Carriers of disease coming from all quarters, college students whose campuses are under siege, old folks just out of the hospital THAT day, parents who left a child behind at home because "he threw up just before we left," children that stayed home all week because of fever, not to mention the overtaxed bathroom that over twenty people have use. Aaaugh!

Checking vitals everyday now.  Was that a little soreness in my throat just now? Was that a regular sneeze (my, is this place dusty) or was that a sickness sneeze? Are my glands *engorged?

My Beloved is a tea connoisseur, working at the Crazy Wisdom Book Store in Ann Arbor, for the last two years.  He brought home a tea called Beloved's Don't Get Sick Tea, one he blended himself. Sweet kid, always thinking about his mommy.  (Oh yea, and his daddy too.)

What? Fever for the last two days? Aaaugh! He's got the sickness too!

This past Sunday my mother and I got an unexpected treat at church when we found her goddaughter there.  Maria is a nurse.  There is a point in the mass when we offer each other a sign of peace, which means shaking hands with everyone around you.  It's the only time that people will actually look you in the eye and smile, otherwise its stone face. Well as soon as it was over, Maria grabbed her purse in a fury and took out hand sanitizer.  She grabbed her sister's hand and put a dollop, then she grabbed my mother's then mine.  It was so overt that everyone we shook hands with turned to look giving us the ole fish eye. Usually I try to do things like that on the sly.

Well at first I thought she was overreacting until I look to my right and saw a man helping his eldest daughter.  Her head was in her lap and he was stroking her hair. I wondered if she was sick.  No.  He was removing the lice from the back of her head.   Aaaaaaauuuuuugggghhhh!

Now go visit Keely at UnMom for more Random posts.  At least they won't be a sick as mine although I could be wrong about that.
* that's for jim styro
 

Random Errands

My mom has been lonely lately.  She sees all five of her children at least once a week, some of them more, but she still gets lonely.  Trapped inside that 78 year old body is a 22 year old girl trying to get out.  She loves life.  She loves people.  She loves adventure.  One day trapped in her house without something to do and no visitors means a day of gardening, or cleaning, or sorting.  She loves to sort her stuff. Two days and she gets anxious with no contact.  Papi's sitting in his chair putting together a puzzle.  The dresser in his room is piled high with jigsaw puzzle boxes.  But he doesn't count.  He hasn't counted in ages.  He's home and stays alone, maybe a little lonely, but she definitely gets lonely and needs to get away.

So I called her and asked if she wanted to keep me company while I ran errands the next day.  When I awoke and the sun was shining. becoming a beautiful crisp November morning, I knew she would be pleased. I know I was.

I always drive a circuit.  I plan my drive for minimum miles per gallon.  I also pile my errands together to make sure the trip to one place will yield another place to stop.  So if I go east, I visit every store that I usually frequent in that area.

First I take her to the a polish meat market, the only one left in the area.  Been there forever. Yea, no line. We munch on samples of bratwurst,  kielbasa and jerky.  Meat is king! She wonders from one end of the store to the other munching on cajun and garlic roasted peanuts.

Then off to the italian meat market, the only one left in our area.  She's amazed that so much can be packed into a small store.  I buy fresh ricotta, freshly shredded mozzarella, and freshly ground parmesan.  Cheese is king! I get a pepperoni and grab a dough out of the freezer.  Guess what we are having tonight.

Oh, don't look at the cannoli.  Back away, pretend it's not there.  Don't buy a cannoli! Hey mom do you like cannoli?  No sweetie, I don't.  Thanks Ma.

Then off to the fabric store.  I need some black satin to make black sashes for the upcoming black belt test. I love this store or any fabric store.  Unfortunately they are going the way of the dinosaur.  Even this store is a fabric slash craft store, but I'm grateful for any space in a store for fabrics. It will be a sorrowful day when I won't be able to see and feel all these lovely textiles.

The little woman is meandering around.  I see her up an isle and I hurry to catch up to her.  What the hey! She turned the corner and she was gone.  I call her, Ma!  She's two isles down and cruising in the direction of the call.  But I've moved too, moving fast to head her off, but she'll already turned around and is out of sight.  Ma!  Now she's confused and heads left and down another isle.  I hit the isle and again, What the hey.  Where is she?  I've got to stop calling out Ma.

I finally corner her and we're off to the bank.  Then to the post office.  By the way the Christmas stamps are in.  Just saying.  The post office was the only place where I encountered a line.  So off she went to check out what's cool at the post office.  She came and found me in line to tell me that a little old lady was coming in the door and that she was going to keep an eye on her.  Oookay.  I wondered what my 78 year old mother thought an old lady looked like, but I kept that to myself.  Besides she moves like she's 60 and acts like she's 22.  She helped me place a hundred postcard stamps on a hundred postcards, reminding me that we are so grateful that they are self stick.

Then off to the dentist's office to drop off a payment.  She stayed in the car and was delighted that I put on the classical station for her. Throughout my circuit, I went down the less traveled roads or chose the roads where the scenery was pleasant.  She always thought she was lost until she realized that the stores were on main roads. She was pleased. We were lucky and were serviced quickly at each location.

QueenMaker just walked in the room and looked at my post.  What?!  He started with the usual, people write way to much information on the web.  You just told the everyone in the world how to track you down.  There would be no way you could go into hiding if you wanted to, because you just told everyone you love to hang out in meat markets, that you need and love fabrics.  When they come looking for you, they'll just stake out those places.  Who knows what other info you've let out on the web... His voice is trailing off as he walks away.  He's been reading 1984 lately, so excuse him.
But he is right.

Anyhoo.  Mami and I were back by noon.  I dropped her off at home and raced home to make dinner.  We had a lovely morning. I felt very daughter-y.

Now go visit Keely our hostess for Random Thoughts Tuesday.