Category Archives: seasons

reunion

14 Friday Aug 2009

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I’m getting ready to attend my 26th high school class reunion.  Year 25 zipped right by without a party but I am not complaining.  I do hereby decree that anyone that complains about this unconventional reunion year is automatically assigned to the 30th (or 31st) reunion committee.  I’ve never done the planning for a high school reunion (only the grade school ones, but that is another story), and I can only guess it is a fair amount of work to track down all those former students.

Note to self:  thank the committee this weekend.

A 26th reunion seems like a better idea anyway.  The 25th anniversary of anything carries a silver plated set of expectations, like the memories from the event need to be nice and shiny after it is done.  26?  It is a cottony kind of year, nothing fancy.  And indeed, this one is a outdoor picnic kind of night, which sounds just right to me.

It was the location of the reunion that sealed the deal for me to make the trip back.  That and some facebook friends.  It will be held in the little unincorporated town where I grew up (estimated population 300), not the bigger town where the high school was located (pop. 2500), or the bigger town where some large events like weddings take place (pop. 50,000).  We will be at the Marytown Athletic Field, a hub of social activity throughout my youth in the 70’s, the place where I played softball for several grade school years;  the site of the annual 4th of July Picnic and the place where I spent many shy hours wanting to be outgoing and goof around more with the other kids but instead quietly sitting and watching and waiting.  Not sure yet what I was waiting for…

I have been gone a long time.  I left home for college right after my 18th birthday and never returned for a summer.  My parents moved to a lake house a couple years later, so even the too-brief trips back to visit family did not take me back. I expect that the memories will be intense, when I drive back into town and set foot back on the dusty parking lot.  It has been rebuilt into a very nice ballfield and park, which must mean it is still a hub of community fun and activity.

So, there I will be, with the scholar and the muse, the cowboy’s weekend whereabouts still unknown.  There will surely be many other characters from my past.  I meant to dig out the old yearbooks to refresh my memory on the names and faces.  Then I reminded myself that there will not be a quiz so I don’t need to study.  Nametags will suffice.  Enough time has gone by to blur the faces from what they were, and soften any craggy memories of youthful high school angst.

(I hope!)

10 things I learned on vacation

08 Wednesday Jul 2009

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1. 15 days on the road is exponentially longer than 11.

2. The Ford F-350 Super-Duty has superior towing capacity.  We did not actually drive one — I just picked up this trivia from the conversations around me.

3. If the Yosemite Lodge pamphlets and wall placards say “don’t leave your windows open if you have food in the room”, it is a good idea to heed their advice.

4.  The shiny red HHR looks really cool in the rental car Emerald Aisle, but is smaller than it seems at first (giddy) glance.

5.  It takes less than five minutes after returning home to hear the Ode To Joy again, and that’s a good thing.

6.  If the jam-packed-whirlwind-o’-fun trip itinerary does not plan for a down day of doing nothing, my body will create a down day against my will.

7.  Immodium really works.

8.  Turns out I love those boys (all three of them) even more than I thought.

9.  My kid will eat squid.

AND,

10.  No matter how good the trip, I am always happy to be back home.

*

As a bonus, here’s #11 :

Fish with big lips are kinda creepy (and the Monterey Bay Aquarium is spectacular).

Mr. Lips

a trip through their eyes

02 Thursday Jul 2009

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We are having a fantastic vacation.  As with any extended trip, some things have gone awry but many things have gone amazingly well, with much good fortune and some timely lucky breaks.  It is our longest family trip ever, filled with lots of priceless memories and lots and lots of time together.  All together.  Together in one hotel room and one intermediate size car. 

Did I mention lots of togetherness?

Vacations have a way of inviting expectations; they sneak into the suitcase as we pack, unawares.  It is true, on this trip in particular, where Don and I are taking the boys back for the first time to where we used to live, and finally enjoying the opportunity to take them to all of our old favorite places.  We have looked forward to this trip for years, with dreams of how it will be with our sons at our side, gamely hiking countless miles of beautiful trails and scenic vistas.  (Does anyone see a red flag?)  Yes, of course, it was inevitable that these very destinations, golden California memories for us, are viewed by two young boys in a very different light.

So, I have been given the privilege of viewing the family vacation through a boy’s eyes…  and here is how it looks:

Every mountaintop vista or Yosemite cliff or San Francisco hilltop scenic view is evaluated based on projected flight speed, lift and anticipated trajectory of a paper airplane (which we would not let them throw, much to their consternation).  Every rushing mountain stream or coastal tidepool wave is benchmarked by how far and fast the S.S. Styrofoam would travel… but, alas, we did not let them pack their homemade “ship” on this trip either.  So basically, Don and I are just big spoil-sports who take them to cool places but then won’t let them test the laws of physics.  Damn the need to not litter and to preserve our national parks!

And the cars — oh, the cars!  As we drive Highway 1 along the coast, or up and down forested mountain roads and past national landmarks, they keep a running commentary on every car we pass, what liter engine and how much torque it has, and was it an XT or an EX?  Many hours of entertainment (and heated debate) on the specifics of a car that is now a quarter mile behind us, yet still oh so very fascinating.

About 25 times, Don popped a vein in his temple and “told” them to stop talking about cars and look at the scenery.  But being a boy at heart himself, about 10 seconds later he would see a really cool car and he could not help himself, he would comment on the year, make and model and start up the whole automotive conversation all over again.  I started a “Car Jar”, which is like a “Swear Jar” wherein whoever commits the infraction of discussing another auto would have to put in a quarter.  The proceeds could then potentially be used to buy me some Xanax.  The Car Jar lasted about 45 minutes, because the boys did not have any money and Don ended up with the most infractions and all of everyone’s quarters had to be used for SF parking meters anyway.  Sigh.  I just lapsed into a coma for a short time to calm down.  Could everyone please just look at the trees and the flowers?

On a more positive note, we have walked many, many miles of incredible scenery, and eventually this exhausted the small ones so thoroughly that they could no longer focus their vision on cars.  Plus, since we stayed on the valley floor of Yosemite, we parked our car and almost everyone else parked their car which meant the boys could only debate the fuel source of the shuttle buses and tour buses (hybrid or biodiesel?)

We have also played countless games of Pooh-Sticks, which has nothing to do with any body function, but lots to do with Winnie the Pooh floating sticks down a stream and watching where they go.  Good clean fun, and there must be some physics in there somewhere.  We hiked and rode bikes and played on beaches and by waterfalls and streams.

It is all good, these experiences together that I believe we will always remember.  I’ll remember everything I ate, because I always do; my memory is based more on taste and smell than vision.  Don is often amazed that I can recall in detail a meal from 10 years ago, yet accidentally rent the same film three times.  Hey, I can’t help it that I can’t taste Appollo 13.

Mostly I hope I will also always remember how my boys viewed the world at this age.  How we all can look at the same view and see something completely different, and how their view is no less right than mine.  Just different.  Just boy.

friends, revisited

29 Monday Jun 2009

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A while back I wrote about friendships — how hard it is to leave them behind when we move and how challenging to keep the friendship alive as the years pass.

Shortly after, I saw a tweet from Gretchen Rubin, author of The Happiness Project blog,

half of all friends are replaced every seven years

Really, half every seven years?  The seven year itch of friendships?  Then I read this piece on Zebra Sounds , with a link to an excellent HuffPo articleby Ed and Deb Shapiro.  Technically, it’s about Monica Lewinsky, a dinner party, and forgiveness, but here is a quote that grabbed my attention (along with a note to self to go back and  re-read the inspirational ‘forgive yourself” advice…)

“Within the space of seven years every cell in our body dies and is reformed, our thoughts are constantly changing and our feelings come and go. We are literally not the same person we were a minute ago, let alone a day, a month or a year ago”.

Given the science and the sociology, it seems somewhat amazing that we can maintain friendships at all, with all the changes in our every day lives.   This is our transitory reality, not just when we move out of town, but every move we make, every day, changing us little by little. 

Good thing friendship is not based on science.

If I had any lingering doubt about the lasting nature of friendships, this last week was proof positive.  We saw friends that we had not seen in 10-15 years, and although apparently every cell in my body had changed over twice (and doubled?), it was like a week had gone by, and we had hatched tween children and (just a few) wrinkles in the meantime, but otherwise it was comfortable as an old glove.  Not that they are old.  And neither are we.  Just an expression, really.

I call them old friends in the most attractive, affectionate, slimming, firm, and endearing way possible, seven times over.

excuse me, but can you go find my head?

22 Monday Jun 2009

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December 23rd historically has not been one of my finer days.

I have been known to fall apart on December 23rd.  It is something about the holly jollidays, the anticipation and preparation and frankly the perfectionist tendency to try to make it a perfect holiday for everyone.  Kind souls have been trying to tell me to relax about it for years — No gifts!  No fuss!  Kind souls have practically whacked me over the head with good advice, but I had on Santa blinders and did not see the wisdom of their words and good examples.

I did not want to let go of all the hoopla and merriment and magic, especially the last couple years when some of the “magic” had fizzled away into the world of logic and what’s real.  Ironically, the harder I fought to keep the Happy in the Holidays, the more overwhelmed I became.  Which is, of course, quite silly and counterproductive.

Now December 23rd is synonymous with me having an episode,  as in “Now don’t go all December 23rd on me” or “Stop it!  Mom will go December 23rd!”  But finally, last year I believe I learned my lesson.  Hello, universe?  I get it now.  Do not need to go through the exercise again, thanks for the nice lesson.

Last year, I made a serious tactical error and took two young boys shopping for suit coats and dress slacks, belts, ties and dress shoes.  On December 23rd.  I was delusional with pre-holiday manic preparation syndrome (PHMPS).

And you already know how it probably turned out, but I am going to tell you anyway:  the sizes were picked over, nothing fit, small people were squirrelly in front of full-length mirrors…  and then my head fell off in the dressing room.  All because a couple of boys were being boys.  My head rolled down a couple stalls, and I would have sent the oldest down to retrieve it for me, but he had just accidentally locked himself into a changing stall.

Ho, ho, ho.

Okay, so I have six months to change the situation.  No more conniptions, melt-downs, head-rolling, or running away from home. 

Make December 23rd a joyful day, with no perfectionistic PHMPS grinchiness sneaking back in…grinch has his own ideas 

*

That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

where’s the bus?

13 Saturday Jun 2009

Posted by in Motherhood, seasons, Writing

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Okay, so here’s the deal:  that magic big yellow bus stopped coming to my house and now there are extra PEOPLE here.  Every day.  All day.  And every time I sit down at the computer to write something brilliant, someone says “You’re at the computer, AGAIN???”  Which makes me feel like I should play a game with them or something.  Because they grow up so fast.  Then I wander off and see some task that was supposed to be done yesterday, and they ask if they can use their “screen minutes” which are a commodity akin to gold around here.

Coincidentally, I work at the one computer in the house with a fast internet connection;  it could not be their secret evil plan to distract me so they can play a computer game, could it??

I miss the bus.

I miss the writing.

I need a new routine.

Anyhoo, back to business around here.  There is a book to give away.  You may already know that lots of blogs do regular giveaways.  I’ve won three books from blog giveaways in the last couple months, and I don’t enter that often.  Maybe three times?  These cool blogs usually also make a clear point of the technologically superior and ultimately equitable computer program used to chose the winner (the Randomizer! Randomcount.com! the Randalamadingdong!)  I imagine this cuts down on their hate mail from the losers non-winners by making it clear that the blogger plays fair.

So I offered my very first blogging giveaway this week — a copy of the book Get Known Before the Book Deal by Christina Katz.  I hoped to encourage lots of thought-provoking and intelligent questions for Christina to cover in the follow-up Q&A.  It would be a bummer to invite a famous author to a party and then have no one show up.  It worked!  The questions were great and we all learned something new.  I also secretly hoped that the promise of free goods would lure some of the Lurkers out of hiding and into the open to take part in all the fun and frolic that goes on here.  I think I may have to give away a Weber grill to do that.  Food for thought.

But here’s the deal: I do not know how to use the Randomizer.  It sounds like an Abdominizer, or a Lobotimizer.  So I used some folded yellow sticky notes, and a kid that has been here ALL DAY pulled the name out of an actual hat.  Sounds random to me.

And the winner is…….  Judy!  It is quite fitting that Judy be the Truly Randomly Chosen Winner since she left one of my very first comments, ever, back when I had three readers, and she had never met me in her life.  So Judy, send me your mailing address and the book will be yours!

Send me a bus and I’ll put people on it!

No, that is so not true.  I love all those people to the moon and back.  I am so lucky to have the opportunity and flexibility to be here with them all summer.  Though I might consider getting on that bus myself if I had a new laptop.  I’d only be gone a little while.

Maybe I can win one from a blog…?

what a hypothetical ham

05 Friday Jun 2009

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Once upon a time, possibly earlier today, there was a woman who tried on her new swimsuit in (mental) preparation for her first trip to the pool this weekend.  Looking over her shoulder into the mirror, a maneuver that is really never a good idea under most circumstances for a woman of her age, she discovered a disquieting situation. Where her thighs used to be, there were now these things attached above her knees that bore a vague and unfortunate resemblance to hams.  The pale, uncooked kind of hams purchased at Easter to be slowly roasted for a large buffet and served with jello salads.

That kind of hams.

“Oh, that is so very unfortunate,” she exclaimed, using more colorful and imaginative language that cannot be repeated here.  The dog seemed to nod in agreement, or was perhaps ducking out of the way in case the situation turned farther south.

She had joined a gym (again) that very morning, but alas, that would not likely help the situation by tomorrow.  Knowing that a brown sugar/molasses glaze makes the forementioned Easter centerpiece that much more appealing, she searched the cosmetics graveyard for a bottle of self-tanning mousse from last summer.  She baked on the sunny deck for one hour, turning every 15 minutes.  Wisely, she stopped short of lightly scoring and studding with cloves.  It did occur to me her, however, that a skirted Miraclesuit in a summery print of pineapple rings and maraschino cherries would be a nice touch.

two sides to a coin

23 Saturday May 2009

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We went shopping for flowers today, which is a trip to a candy store to me.  The peppermint striped petunias!  The lollipop topped geraniums!  Verbenas with gum drop bunches on the end of each branch!  Okay, that’s enough already!  I returned hungry to their house on the lake, and ready to get my hands dirty.

Most of my gardens are filled with perennials, which cuts down on the annual annual expenditures.  Invest once and enjoy for years (with some maintenance each month…).  However, nothing rivals the showy candy colors of annuals for the whole season in our zone.  If we could grow things that extravagant 12 months a year, I would have to, …well, I think my head would explode from the beauty.  Must have some winter gray to make these colors seem so bright.

Anyhoo, this trip to the nurseries was to find annuals for my mom, so I went a little cRaZy and called it a belated Mother’s Day gift (because you KNOW that the card did not arrive in time).   I get my love of flowers and green thumb from her.  It is special and rare to be here on a visit at this time of year, to be able to plant together.

We tried several stores to find just the right combo of eye candy, trying to support the local businesses instead of StuffMart.  The experience at the Farm and Home (Fleet Farm?  Farm & Fleet?  I get them mixed up) gave me pause…  after much searching for two geraniums that were an exact color match (because they do come in 5000 colors), I finally located one hanging pot and one on the ground.  The pots and plants were the exact same size, yet one was $7 more because it was a ‘hanging basket’ and one was a ’10” premium pot’.  Now I had a choice to make:

1.  Feeling cheated that I had to pay an extra $7 for the same thing.  What a rip-off!  And what the h*ll is a ‘fleet’ anyway?

OR

2. Feeling lucky that I got one for $7 cheaper.  What a deal!  And what helpful staff to help us find the only two matching colors in the place.

The situation is a constant; the only difference is the attitude I would choose.  Today is a happy day and I could easily choose #2.  Maybe today is a happy day because I chose #2.  Attitude can not be overestimated.

We found the greatest variety at the next stop, a local stand in a parking lot, and I was also happy to hand my money to this man who worked hard to sell these beautiful plants.  Actually, he took VISA so even the little guy has to keep up with the times.

Here in Wisconsin, the old fashioned lilacs are in spectacular bloom.  I could not figure out why I did not remember the sheer number and size of the lilacs in this part of the country; many are more like trees covered in purple, lavender and white blooms.  (Cotton candy!)  Then I realized I have not been here in May since my grandma’s funeral, 19 years ago.  Back then, I still took the lilacs for granted as, ho hum, something that happened ever year; big deal.  Now it’s a Big Deal again.  That alone was worth the price of admission.

what does friendship look like?

15 Friday May 2009

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ubiquitous symbol of friendshipWhat makes us bond with certain people more closely than others?  And no matter how strong the bond, how long will it last when life keeps rolling along?  I’ve made truly wonderful friends during the years spent in Wisconsin, California, Minnesota and Ohio.  Through our tiny grade school, where 25 of us spent eight years growing up together.  In high school, during Latin class and play practices and tears at the curtain calls.  And college, where dorm living makes a village.  In each workplace, with lunch hours and water cooler chats and living through the familiar, ridiculous situations where any office becomes The Office.  Through each of the kids’ schools, working side by side with other parents on volunteer projects and where shared insights into each age makes each stage so much easier.  With each move came the new neighbors that became part of our lives, with shared driveways and snow blowers and perennials and lawn weeds and impromptu Friday nights sitting outside and sharing a beverage.  All of a sudden and 40 odd years later, I have hundreds of people scattered all over the country who were once a big part of my life.

So, each chapter has its own set of friends, born from close proximity and shared experiences.  As we move from place to place, moving on to the next chapter, each set goes through seemingly inevitable stages.  It feels weird.  How can someone have been so close to me for so long, so intertwined in my life — yet within a time after moving on, often the bond starts to let go?  The impermanence of it tugs at my heart.  It just doesn’t seem right.

Even as I grow older, and hopefully a little wiser, I still feel a sense of mourning for the friends that pass to the next stage. The phone calls get less frequent, the correspondence dwindles to only once a year, maybe a forwarded email joke or just the Christmas card.  Oh, the Christmas cards!  Every year, robed in the nostalgia and warm feelings of the holidays, I think of my far-flung friends and I want to send a card to all of them! *each with a handwritten personal note! * and I quickly become so completely overwhelmed that I don’t know where to start and I end up with a pre-printed message mailed on December 23rd. *Sigh*  Maybe I should start in March?

Because I don’t want to let go.

But the older I get, I also realize that the change of relationship does not have to be a mourned event.  We can let each other go, for now, so we have room in our heart for the next group of friends that are meant to be met.  The ones who are here, today.  It’s okay.  And, when we plan a trip to the town of the old friend, more often that not, the relationship can be instantly rekindled and within minutes we are laughing and reminiscing and talking about what has changed and it seems like just yesterday that we were together.  The friendship didn’t die, it just went dormant, like a flower who must take a break for the winter and when the spring comes it can pop back up.

Friendship feels so good, and it just makes sense that it is good for us too.  In her article, “What Are Friends For?  A Longer Life”, author Tara Parker-Pope discusses the scientific evidence behind what “the girlfriends” have known all along — having close friends by our side can make life healthier and happier.  The ones far way still keep us healthy too.

I have much admiration for those people who choose to maintain the lifelong friendships at an active level, with all the people along the way.  I have a friend who wrote letters to a cross-country, cross-generational friend for years.  They wrote to each other every day.  On actual paper, with an envelope and a stamp.  That is so poignant to me, such a gift.  I have trouble mailing a card to anyone on time, and technically I know the date of the birthday a year in advance.  But hopefully my friends and family know it is not that I don’t love them, it is an implementation issue.  Or maybe it is a completion issue.  I also have trouble getting started.  It’s complex.

Big D and I have an old joke, a sitcom (Seinfeld?) scenario where only people who are “interviewing for friends” will potentially still have openings.  Like many sitcom jokes, it is the nugget of truth that makes it so funny.  I’ve lived here longer than I have lived anywhere since my childhood home, but I still have openings.  I’ll welcome the new people I am meant to meet.  I’m keeping all the wonderful memories from all the friends along the way, until our paths cross again.  In the meantime, here is what friendship looks like to me.

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