Long Hollow

Celebrating Rae with the Grateful Geezers (or Oh, My Aching Feet!)

I believe the last big Fifty party has come and gone - and it was a Grand Finale, just like at the end of a fabulous 4th of July fireworks show.

Of course, I have to make it clear that Rae is not 50. Yet. She is hanging on tight to 49 for three more days. But that didn't stop us from celebrating, because we're celebrating her and our friendship, as much as a date on the calendar.

In typical Rae-fashion, this party felt like a gift from her to all of us. There was Mexican food, frozen margaritas, the Grateful Geezers, and a dance floor. There were people at this party that haven't even been to a class reunion - people from other classes that I haven't seen in over thirty years - interesting people I'd never met before - and even one of my elementary school teachers who was barely old enough to teach back then and doesn't look like she's aged a day in forty years.

I regret that I didn't spend more time visiting, but once the Grateful Geezers started playing, I couldn't leave the dance floor. They are fantastic! It was like they cast a spell on me - one great dance song after another - and I couldn't resist. Thank goodness they had the same effect on many of the others - I was never alone on the dance floor, that's for sure. I even somehow persuaded Tom to polka with me (there must have been magic in the air!)

Between the heat, humidity, and dancing, I was soaking wet with sweat; my hair was plastered to my head, and I had blisters on my feet, but I didn't care (well...I admit that in the group picture, I stood on the ledge in the back with the other members of the Thinning Hair Club...all guys of course.)

Knowing how much it means to Rae to give to others, for her birthday several of us surprised her by pitching in and donating $600 to a scholarship fund set up in her brother Milton's name at the local college. Milton was killed in a hunting accident several years ago, and the scholarship fund is just one of many ways they keep his memory alive. We also set aside a little for a gift card to a nursery - Rae is addicted to planting beautiful things in her yard. Not a bad vice, really.

After we planned our gift, a Pasadena policeman was killed in the line of duty. Again, in typical Rae-fashion she requested donations on behalf of his wife and small children in lieu of gifts to herself. By the end of the night she had over $1800 to present to them.

The night ended way too soon, despite what my feet were telling me. Tom and I were among the last to straggle out the door.

The next morning, after relaxing with Mama and Daddy, and enjoying lunch at Chili's with my siblings, we headed back to Austin...but not straight home.

First, we went downtown to pick up a few things at the grocery store for Kendall (and Daniel since we were going), making the mistake of going to Central Market, which we discovered just masquerades as a grocery store - it's really a serpentine, tunnel-like maze lined with expensive, imported things you can't find anywhere else, and that take the place of the simple (and cheap) things we needed for the kids. I wish I'd taken my camera in, though, for a shot of the woman in front of us with the pink hair and matching pink tail pinned to the rear of her jacket. Yep, we were back in Austin.

Entertained, but empty-handed, we headed to a nearby Randall's - still too expensive but at least they had lunchmeat - made our deliveries to my babies (collected my hugs and kisses), then still had to stop at my HEB for our groceries (pretty good variety, cheaper prices, and good music playing in the background) before we could finally roll down our dirt road to the house.

What a weekend...but totally worth the bags under my eyes and the blisters on my feet. Thank you, Rae! Now, when do the Fifty-One parties start?

Barbara (otherwise known as "Ms. Haygood" in our previous lives), with me and former classmates, Mike and David...

Presenting Rae with her representative "check" made out to the scholarship fund (Leslie did such a great job making the check!)

 

The Grateful Geezers singing to Rae...

Our group of Deer Park High School class of '77 - including Dave, our newly adopted "foreign exchange student" from New Zealand (really Rae and her husband's guide from their trip this year, but we just couldn't exclude him!)

Mama and Daddy at lunch on Sunday...

 

"Every Step I'm Taking..."

I'm a fifty-year-old, perimenopausal woman, clinging stubbornly to decades-old dreams of finishing college and making a living as a full-time writer. Imagine my surprise when I heard a song on the radio that seemed to express all of the jumbled emotions many women (and probably men) my age are feeling - disappointment, discouragement, determination, joy and hope - and discovered it was sung by Miley Cyrus! A sixteen-year-old!  How could a sixteen-year-old sing something that spoke to a woman my age?

Kendall is eighteen, so I completely missed the whole Hannah Montana wave that struck pre-teens a few years ago, and I've just never paid much attention to Miley Cyrus's music, whether she sang with or without the blonde wig. It just wasn't my style. I thought, anyway.

This one I like. I think she does a good job singing it, but sure enough, she didn't write it. Two seasoned songwriters, Jessi Alexander and Jon Mabe, get the credit. Jessi's not as old as me, but she seems to have been working on her dreams of being a singer/songwriter for awhile, too. Even though I like Miley's version of "The Climb", I bet Jessi could belt out a really heartfelt rendition herself. She's written songs for some big names, but has also released her own albums. I listened to a few tracks, and I like them. Maybe this song will give her the attention she needs to reach the top of her mountain.  I hope so. We dreamers need to keep rooting for each other, as we climb.

I can almost see it
That dream I'm dreaming
But there's a voice inside my head saying
"You'll never reach it"

Every step I'm taking
Every move I make feels
Lost with no direction
My faith is shaken

But I gotta keep trying
Gotta keep my head held high

There's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Sometimes I'm gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb

The struggles I'm facing
The chances I'm taking
Sometimes might knock me down
But no, I'm not breaking

I may not know it
But these are the moments that
I'm gonna remember most, yeah
Just gotta keep going

And I, I got to be strong
Just keep pushing on.

'Cause there's always gonna be another mountain
I'm always gonna wanna make it move
Always gonna be a uphill battle
Somebody's gonna have to lose

Ain't about how fast I get there
Ain't about what's waiting on the other side
It's the climb, yeah!

Keep on moving, keep climbing
Keep the faith, baby
It's all about, it's all about the climb
Keep the faith, keep your faith, whoa

(Not) My First Kiss

What a strange, wonderful world it is...

Almost forty years after I sat in a darkened room for two hours, listening to music, hoping for yet fearing my very first kiss from the boy sitting next to me - a kiss that never materialized because we were both too shy to talk, much less kiss - I impulsively sent a Facebook message..."Do you remember me?"

I wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't. We talked a few times after that mortifying experience, but the last time was thirty years ago or more.

But he did remember me, and was even happy to hear from me! Whatever had kept us from being able to talk to each other before had crumbled away. Now we realized how much alike we are, how much we have in common, how many memories we share of our old neighborhood.

Because of our new-found friendship, I discovered another new friend as well - his wife. And we didn't stop there - we looped Tom into it as well. It was such a surprising experience for all of us, to stumble upon such special relationships like this after all these years. You just never know what gifts life has stashed away for you, waiting for just the right moment to bring them out.

Happy Birthdays, Robert and Shari! I'm so grateful for our friendship!

A Four-Fossil Morning

A thunderstorm passed through just before sunset last night. It was enough to wash the tiredness from Charly's old bones - he led the pack on our walk this morning at a pace that demanded less strolling and more actual walking for a change. But I was still moving slow enough to find four fossils - I think that's a new record for one walk. They're easier to spot after a rain when the top layer of dirt is loosened and peeled away.

There was a soft fragrance in the air - I imagined it as an expression of joy and thanksgiving by the plants and trees for being clean and dust-free for a change.

The cooler temperatures carried in with the storm stuck around overnight - the ground was still damp and the grasses wet with dew, and there was even a mud puddle at the curve where it dips down to the dry creek bed. I actually had goosebumps on my legs when the breeze blew past me.

It's supposed to be another 100+ degree day today, but I do believe...I really DO believe...autumn is on its way.

Playing Teacher. And Student.

My first class is behind me, thank goodness. I really didn't know what to expect, even though I'm the teacher as well as the student.

Actually, I didn't know what to expect because the teacher-me still hadn't quite figured out how it should go...

Should I spend the entire time writing? If so, how much and/or for how long? Will my writing goal be based on chapters-per-week, or should I make it so many words a day?

And what about reading? I really should review some of my writing books, and then there are all of the historical reference materials I've gathered...should I include time for that during "class"? I could call it the "lecture".

Or should all of my reading be considered homework?

Sigh. 

By the time class started, I still hadn't ironed it all out, but I knew I couldn't waste time worrying about it. I would just start writing.

And wouldn't you know...it took two agonizing semesters, but my writing mentality seems to be thoroughly set in "screenplay" mode now. For months the biggest obstacle I faced in writing my screenplay was 'too much detail' where I didn't need it. The kind of detail that goes into books, but isn't necessary, and in fact, gets in the way of a screenplay. I had to cut, cut, cut.

Now I've got to work my detail-muscles back into shape - characters, setting, etc. And I've got to jump out of the present-tense back into the past.

What was I thinking? Why did I think I should switch from screenplay to novel?

No, I still think it's the right decision. My old habits aren't gone - just tucked into one of those folders stacked on the desk in the library. And it's good for my brain to have to switch back and forth - it'll keep those gears turning smoothly, and (I hope) make me a better writer all around.

By the time class ended tonight, I had read over pages and pages of story notes from the past two semesters, waded back into the facts and mused about the parts in-between that I get to make up, typed, deleted, typed, deleted, and finally managed to churn out (almost) a whole first chapter.

It's not much, but it's a start. I've spent three months away from the story, and I'm surprised how much I've forgotten. I'll need to spend almost as much time reviewing and researching as I do writing at first, and it's easy for me to get lost in the research. I love stepping back in time, following other trails that are fascinating but have nothing to do with my story. Now that I'm really limited on time, I'm going to have to keep a tight rein on myself and stick to searching only for relevant information and not get carried away, especially now in the beginning when I just need to get the story down. 

And I know, before too long, I'll once again be lost in this story. My characters will remember me...they'll forget their shyness and take over the telling. Then I'll be able to step aside and just type.

"Writing is like hunting. There are brutally cold afternoons with nothing in sight, only the wind and your breaking heart. Then the moment when you bag something big. The entire process is beyond intoxicating." - Kate Braverman

 

Finding the Right Balance

Something about the start of a new school year always fires me up - I find myself making resolutions, setting goals, and getting organized as if it were New Year's Eve!  I think about starting projects that have been pushed from season to season and ultimately ignored all year, as if I have to get them done right NOW!

Maybe it's leftover from childhood, this excitement, this sense of a new beginning. No matter what went wrong in the previous year, a new school year was a chance for a fresh start.

Right now I'm mostly fired up about my Number One Goal - writing my book. My "class" starts tomorrow, so I've been trying to straighten up my "classroom", which means sorting through all the crap that has accumulated around the computer and the piles of odds-and-ends on my desk in the library (it's just a door on sawhorses, so it makes a great place to temporarily put things that are then promptly forgotten.)

I've come across at least four books I started reading this past year, napkin-bookmarks waving at me optimistically from quarter points. When was the last time I finished a book? I really can't remember. That's another one of my goals: read more. I'm determined to finish ALL of these books. Maybe one night a week I'll set aside just for reading...

Two of my mother's photo albums are sitting on the desk...I brought them home with me several months ago, intending to scan all of the pictures, return them and bring back two more, and so on, until I had them all saved in my computer. One of those summertime projects that just drifted along, in no hurry to be done. I bet if I spend thirty minutes or so every evening after work, before I start writing, I could get them all scanned in no time...

On the other side of the library four big boxes are stacked against one wall, and several plastic bins. It sure would be nice to move those down to the storage room, but it's already so full...boxes and boxes of arts and crafts supplies, dress-up clothes, and no telling what else ... all summer I've been meaning to get down there and go through all of the boxes to see what I need to keep and what can be tossed...maybe...

Focus, Barbara!!

Well, it's clear I'm my own worst enemy. I'm going to have lots of distractions, even with the kids out of the house. I can't just ignore everything else around here - obviously, I'm going to have to find some kind of balance, and that if I want to have a completed novel under my belt by the end of this semester, the balance will have to lean toward my writing. Wish me luck! You can see I'm going to need it.

Observations on a morning walk

XM Radio Antenna on my (dirty) car...

Frankie had his first...

 

 

Charly can still move when he wants to! See his ears flapping?

This used to be a creek/marsh area...construction (now-abandoned) and the drought have taken a toll, but there are still a few blooms attracting insects and Frankie is like a kid in a candy store...

 

"...as it should be."

TG is really and truly a college student now, surrounded with college and all things college-related. By the time I got home from work yesterday, she had her things packed and ready to go. She had even tidied up her bedroom!

Daniel and his friend Austin met us at her dorm and helped us get her moved in, showed her the right way to swipe her ID card to get into the building, gave her bits of advice and answered questions her dad and I couldn't.

As evening settled in, we took a break to treat the kids to pizza and hoagies at the Mellow Mushroom on the Drag. Before finally heading back home in the empty van, leaving my baby girl behind, alone because her roommate hadn't yet shown up, we unpacked a few boxes, made her bed, and stocked up on hugs and kisses.

It was a long, quiet ride home, heat lightning flashing silently around us...home to a house now empty in a totally different, weird way.

So what the heck was I thinking today?

I decided to watch a movie while I worked out - I've been a slug for a week now and didn't feel quite up to Trainer Ted's standards yet. I chose something no one except Tommy would agree to watch with me lately, and he was just being sweet: "Mary Poppins." (Tommy even agreed it's really a good movie, or at least better than he remembered - he caught all of the adult humor this time. If you think it's just a kids' movie, you need to take another look! It's really very funny, has great acting and timing...it's one of only a handful of movies that I think is better than the book.)

But, really, what was I thinking? It's tells the story of someone who becomes very attached to the children she is taking care of, only to have them stop needing her. The ending scene shows how they have totally forgotten all about her! You don't have to be a psychologist to see the significance of my choice!

I realized all of this as I was clicking through the previews, but I decided to watch it anyway. At least the first thirty minutes or so, when they clean up the nursery, one of my favorite scenes - wishful thinking, probably. ("Just a teaspoon of sugar helps the medicine go down..." is actually a bit of sound advice for my present situation, I think.)

And then I fast forwarded to the end scene...the one where the kids are happily flying kites and singing "Let's Go Fly a Kite" (that song always made me cry even when I was little for some reason - a premonition, perhaps?) and Mary watches them wistfully and shushes her umbrella when he talks about how ungrateful they are because they've totally forgotten her, and she just smiles that little smile and says "That's as it should be."

She's right, of course. And I know it. This is how it should be and what I've worked for since the day they were born. So I ended up not crying, even during "Let's Go Fly a Kite," because I realized I'm actually happy and excited for TG as she starts this new adventure of her life.

Besides, I know from my own experience, and with Tommy and Daniel, that she's not really "gone". She hasn't forgotten us, and as time goes on, she'll appreciate us even more than she does now.

Wise woman, that Mary Poppins. 

The van, loaded and ready to roll...UT tower...Austin, Daniel, TG on the Drag, as it should be.

For now, anyway.

 

 

Those little things you take for granted...

Charly's face, hopeful and questioning, peered at me through the French doors, his white fur glowing in the soft light of dawn. He hadn't done that in ages - obviously, he took our morning walks for granted as much as I did. But this was going on three days! Please, Mom?

"Don't worry - we're going this morning. Just give me a few minutes..."

That was yesterday morning, when I was thinking, "Is this what a bear feels like, crawling from his cave after months of hibernation, blinking in the sunlight and thinking, perhaps, one more day in the cave would be nice?"

 But, no...maybe I was a little wobbly (I lagged behind Charly when we finally hit the road) but I'd had enough of lying around. It was nice being able to just shut a door in my mind to all of the things that needed to be done while I was sick, but once that door opened, I couldn't make it close again, couldn't make the images go away - the empty refrigerator, piles of laundry, piles of paperwork, lists of phone calls, the meager paycheck-yet-to-come from missing two days...

Tom did a great job keeping up with dishes, cooking, taking care of the critters and me, but, bless his heart, between work and his daily commute to the other side of Austin, he only has a few hours of free time in the evening to get anything done.

Besides...SURPRISE! TG realized she moves into her dorm TONIGHT, not Saturday! So yesterday was very, very full - work, shopping, packing, laundry, phone calls...and today will be the same - more shopping, more laundry, work (to help pay for all of this), more packing, and then...MOVE-IN! I'm grateful I started feeling more like a human than a slug.

Being sick is the pits - it always reminds me what a wimp I am! I don't know how other people manage it...I know there are people out there that deal with illness every day, knowing it's not just going to go away with some antibiotics, and that the strongest meds out there don't even dull the knife of pain some people live with all the time.

I missed out on a lot growing up with my asthma...picture days, slumber parties, real Christmas trees (I spent Christmas Day night in the emergency room the one year my parents gave in to my pleas.) And my first experience on an airplane was flying home after a long bus ride to St. Louis on an 8th grade church choir trip - long because we stopped at emergency rooms along the way to keep me breathing. Sorry Don, Patti, Denise, David, and every one else on that bus...

Because of my experience I don't take my lungs or even breathing for granted...most of the time, anyway - I remember too well that suffocating feeling. It still comes around to remind me every so often, but now there are preventative medicines available, which I'm sure I DO take for granted.

Just like my bladder - one of those workers you just expect to do their job without as much as a "nice job" or a "thank-you." Instead of giving them breaks, you give them more to do, make their jobs tougher. Not anymore. A cranberry pill will be joining my morning arsenal - calcium supplements, Vitamin D, etc.

Of course, nothing is certain in life, right? Sometimes, things happen beyond our control and despite our best efforts.  My asthma...some types of cancer...it seems our parts can have flaws and weaknesses, just like our personalities.

Josh, one of my son Daniel's friends since childhood, had just returned from spring break last year, ready to finish his spring semester of college. Next thing he knew, he was in the emergency room hearing that his kidneys had shut down. It turns out kidney disease had been lurking quietly in his body, deciding to make a surprise appearance without knocking first...like a home invader robbing Josh of his health, that I'm sure (being a kid) he had taken for granted. He had to withdraw from school (which he obviously DIDN'T take for granted - he was doing great) and return home.

It's tough enough hearing about someone my age dealing with a major health problem - I still feel we are way too young, and it always surprises me to find out we're not! But to hear that this kid that I've watched grow up, from the hyper little scout in my Wolf Cub den to a talented, award-winning actor and trombone player in high school, is now on dialysis three times a week, keeping his fingers crossed, PRAYING for a kidney transplant this fall so he can return to school for the 2010 spring semester ...well, it just breaks my heart.

Now he's facing another battle...all the issues involved with a transplant. Like money. He hasn't had insurance for years. Medicare and Medicaid will cover the cost of the transplant itself, but there are many other costs involved. His family has teamed up with the Children's Organ Transplant Association  in the hopes of raising another $40,000 that will be needed (to read more about Josh or to donate, check out his COTA website here.)

The good news is Josh's mom recently found out she's a blood type and tissue match - if she passes the other health screenings, she'll be able to donate a kidney to save her son's life.

That's just another reason not to take my health or any of the parts, thereof, for granted. I might need them someday to help one of my own kids - three things I don't ever want to take for granted even when they're driving me crazy, not doing what I think they should be doing.

Speaking of...I better get moving on the rest of my day...shopping, work, laundry, packing, moving...

Betrayal! (or...This isn't What I Ordered!)

It was supposed to be a taste of the next course in our life - Empty Nest. But if this is what it tastes like, can I send it back?

Not really, but...COME ON! TG was gone for the past few days - which means ALL the kids were gone...Tom and I had the house all to ourselves...and wouldn't you know? We both felt like crap-ola! His was a headache that wouldn't go away. Mine was the first bladder infection I've had in close to thirty years - and only the second in my life. That first one is why I switched from soda to water. I NEVER wanted to go through that again.

This one hit me out of the blue Sunday evening...seemed to back away yesterday morning... then hit me again yesterday afternoon with all guns blazing.  I think I'm on the "up" side now - I just returned from the doctor and my first antibiotic is in my tummy, hopefully waging war on that nasty infection...just in time for Kendall to be home in a few hours.

I have to admit, it was kind of cozy just cuddling (and groaning) in bed, watching crime dramas together - not my first pick, but there wasn't a big selection. I dozed as much as possible anyway.

But it wouldn't have been my first pick of an evening home alone with my sweetie. And I'm wondering what the heck is going on with my body! I rarely get sick, yet I've had to make two non-checkup trips like this to a doctor's office just since I turned fifty! I'm guessing there will be more surprises coming my way.

I just hope I start feeling better fast so I can enjoy the next few days with Kendall before we drop her at her dorm and our plate of Empty Nest really arrives. I hope the real thing tastes better than this sample.

Taggin' Along and Catchin' Up

My friend Darla's daughter finished up two weeks of summer camp in East Texas today. Another friend, Patti, offered to let her spend last night at her lakehouse near the camp so she wouldn't have to make such a long drive first thing this morning. Darla invited me to go along just for fun.

Heck, yes! Road trip!

Never mind that I'm always complaining about not having enough time in the day to get everything done and that I'm quick to use "no time" as an excuse that the laundry is piling up or the refrigerator is empty or my book isn't written.  Life's just too short to pass up a chance for a change of scenery...hours yakking with dear friends...sipping margaritas as the sun sets on a beautiful lake...witnessing first hand the reunion between a mother and daughter who have been separated for two weeks...and, to be honest, catching a glimpse of what a real "Parent Trap" camp looks like.

So what if I'm sitting at the end of another "not much accomplished" weekend - I have no regrets at all. For one thing, at the end of last week I zoomed around getting things done just so I could go without too much guilt - I was whooped! I needed a break!

 Here's a quick update of the end of last week... 

Thursday...our anniversary. We had a wonderful dinner at Outback Steakhouse (free, thanks to a gift card someone special gave us.) And even though my car was supposed to be my our anniversary gift, he surprised me with a Windberg print of an old barn he discovered on Craig's List (I've been a fan for thirty years) and a beautiful, sweet card - a good thing, because of the video he sent me via email earlier in the week, entitled "The Perfect Marriage" (see it below.)

 My gift to him? I settled on only one card instead of buying three like I usually do and I'm not taking a class this semester. (I know...pretty lame...but he really is impossible to shop for! And these things really do make him happy!)

Friday...TG's last day at work. Our bosses took us both to lunch at a new place in town (new for all of us, anyway.) I'm going to miss having her nearby all day long.

After dinner we shopped - I think we scoured every clearance rack in Kohl's and finished up just before the lights went out - and laughed till we cried listening to comedy channels on my free-for-now XM Radio. It's hard to believe that this time next week she'll be settling into life as a college freshman, and Tom and I will really and truly be empty-nesters!

Below...a taste of lake life with dear friends...a sign from the camp (I want one for my house!)...the "funny" email Tom sent me...

  

I Do

 

 

When I said those words twenty-seven years ago today, I didn't know what the hell I was talking about.

How can you, when you're just twenty-three years old? It's such a leap of faith, marriage is...it's saying "come hell or high water, come arguments about bratty kids and light fixtures or stress about sick kids and college bills, I'm going to stick with you whether you like it or not. And I hope you like it." But you don't know that at the time.

I look back over our years together and I know the only thing that got us through some of them is that I fell head over heels in love with this man, and he felt the same about me.

It's like Jim Croce's song "Time In a Bottle"...you stash those memories and good times in a box or a bottle and on those days when you look at your partner and wonder "Who IS this person?" you just open up that box and pull out some of those memories, and say "Oh, yeah...I remember you. I know you're in there somewhere and I'll just hang on till you come back."

Clinging - I understand that word now.

It feels like we've been on a long journey. I think we've pretty much covered the "better/worse, richer/poorer, sickness/ health" bits, although I'm sure more excitement awaits us, but now it feels like we've worked our way back to where we started...only closer, wiser, more humble and a lot more appreciative.

And it's a good place to be. Knowing what I know now, I'd still say "I do" and I think he would, too.

A few years ago he performed a 'dance' for me to the tune of Grand Funk Railroad's "Some Kind of Wonderful". 

Well, I can't top that, so I'm just going to let my old friend Carole explain how I feel - she has a much better voice than I do.

 

 

 

Happy Anniversary, Babe.

I love you, and I'm ready for the next twenty-seven, plus some.

  

Hanging on...

It rained this afternoon! Not just a wimpy sprinkling, mind you, but a vigorous, committed downpour preceded by wind, thunder and everything! We could hear it in the house...like music to our ears.

It didn't last long, but it stretched to other parched areas. My friend Nancy called from her place southeast of San Antonio so I could hear the rain coming down on them, too. She said it's so dry there, it's starting to look like a desert. Not good, considering that's farm and ranch land - people depend on the land - and therefore the rain- for their livelihood.

It wasn't enough rain to end the drought, of course. Even if it set in raining like this every day, it would be months before we caught up. But we're all grateful even for this little bit.

On my walk this morning I noticed that Mother Nature is still flashing some bling, despite the drought...

 

She's having to get creative. What in the world are these?...

I didn't forget to look up...

 

 

 

Life Lessons (by Charly)

 

Keep doing what you enjoy as long as you are able.

Hang out with a younger crowd sometimes - they won't let you get too settled.

Be patient and tolerant with that younger crowd even when you're tired and grumpy.

Be curious and eager.

Lead by example.

Take naps.

Show affection.

Receive affection.

Be compassionate and share your blessings.

Don't roam too far from home, or at least remember the way back.

Accept treats and show gratitude.

Have a sense of humor.

Accept other species - look beyond your differences and find common ground.

Be bold and brave.

Be loyal.

Trust.

Look for adventure every day.

Don't be afraid to get dirty, but be careful you don't wade in too deep.

Enjoy the sun in your face and the wind in your fur.

If you stumble, just catch yourself and keep moving forward. Run if you can, but walking is good, too.

 

Party Time in the Pride

Considering that nine months ago it was November - a month that can get pretty cold even here in Texas - it's no surprise that my August calendar is dotted with names (wink, wink!) It's been tough to keep up with them!

Now, I don't really follow horoscopes or any of that, but according to "astrology-online", these are the traditional characteristics of people born under the sign of Leo; in other words, people born between July 23 and August 22.

Generous and warmhearted
Creative and enthusiastic
Broad-minded and expansive
Faithful and loving

...and this description certainly fits a handful of Leos I know who celebrated birthdays this week...

Sandy first entered my life in 7th grade...I don't have a whole lot of memories of our friendship from back then, don't remember why we drifted apart, but on the back of her picture is written "one of best friends" and the impression that remained was a good one...so it was with joy and excitement that I recognized her on Kendall's first day of pre-school back at St. Hyacinth. It was Sandy's son Sammy's first day, too, so we had that whole year of holiday parties to get re-acquainted...then we both moved hundreds of miles apart - me to Austin and Sandy to Louisiana. We kept in touch through Christmas cards, letters and emails, especially in the last few years, but it wasn't until this year at my birthday party that we finally came together again face-to-face and even cage-danced together, despite her pretty recent knee replacement surgery. Sandy didn't let her breast cancer slow her down, and she didn't let her knee surgery stop her from dancing. That's enthusiasm!

My sister-in-law Erin unofficially entered the Shallue family before me, but we both married into it in 1982, and except for her husband Joe's Air Force stints in California, Korea and Alaska, we've lived relatively close over the years. They even lived in Texas for a time, and we made it a point to visit a lot. Erin and I share a love of the beach (she lives in Florida now), antiques, coffee and margaritas. She kicks my butt when it comes to playing cards, baking and gardening, though. As with all of my sister-in-laws, I feel we are more sisters than in-laws - years might go by in-between visits or even phone calls, but the time crumbles when we're together. I mean, who else really understands what it's like to be married to a Shallue boy? Now THAT's a connection!

Jim and I became friends when we first moved to Lago Vista - he had stepped up to organize a Cub Scout pack and I stepped forward to help. He and his wife Liane were the first people I called when I got word Tom had been in his accident...within minutes they were at the door to take care of the kids so I could head to the hospital. When Tom was recuperating, he and Liane would swing by the house to let me join them on their evening walk, giving me a chance to get out of the house for some sanity-saving fresh air and exercise. Our friendship took some punches over the years, but we've managed to nurture it and see it begin to grow back. I'm glad - we've been able to enjoy his music (he's a talented musician) and benefit from his support of our "Battle of the Dam" (he's an avid environmentalist.)

Last, but not least, my big sister Brenda...my best friend from the day I was born (not counting my parents, of course!) celebrated her birthday today. Not a day goes by that I don't thank God for blessing my life with her love and friendship. She is a true Leo - she doesn't let anything knock her down, break her Pollyanna "Glad Game" spirit - not even Parkinson's disease or unfair treatment by those she thought were friends. Like a lioness, she's also a fighter. From the time I used to shadow her around the house, she has been an inspiration and role model to me.

Happy Birthday to all of you...and thank you for enriching my life!

Man on a (30 year) Mission

I'm happy to report that Tom's back seems much better today - at least that's what he's telling me. But knowing how stubborn he is, I wouldn't be surprised if it's still hurtin' like hell, but he just refuses to baby it any longer...not when he's in the mood to "get something done around here." It worries me, but I'm used to it  - he ignores pain all the time!  Mementoes of my life are taped in a scrapbook...his are collected throughout parts of his body, from his cliff-climbing (and falling) Coast Guard days in Alaska...his dirt-biking (screw in the broken ankle) days in Houston...and the grand doozy head-on collision (ribs, ankle, hip, face) here in Lago Vista. The fact is, if he wasn't bull-headed enough to ignore the pain, we wouldn't be sitting in this mostly-finished dream house...our thirty-year project. 

Now, I'm not saying he doesn't take breaks. He's spent plenty of afternoons snoozing on the couch or the hammock...or hidden away in our bedroom watching old "Leave It To Beaver" re-runs. It took me years before I figured out those were the times his brain was so busy designing, planning, figuring out the next project that his body just had to take a break. 

And once he gets it figured out...watch out! He is a working machine...hardly taking a break or getting enough rest until he gets enough of the job done that he sees it's going to work out or look just as good as he envisioned it. By then, his brain has seized upon another project idea (we have an endless supply here)...which grows larger and larger until it requires some full-time thinking in the hammock itself.

The latest project is a ceiling above the downstairs patio. From the very beginning, when he first built the upstairs deck along the entire back of the house, he had the idea to use old fenceboards for the ceiling underneath...and sure enough, two years ago he spotted exactly what he needed: an old wooden fence, FREE, on Craig's List. Yes, that was two years ago...which means for over two years I've tried to ignore this huge pile of old fence sections because other projects were more important. A bit of a challenge, considering I've had to move them out of the way at least three times to make way for other projects and parties.

A few weeks ago we (as in 'I') decided it was time to clean up the backside of the property...figure out what we were going to do with leftover construction materials - what to save, what to trash. Not a very exciting project, I admit, but something that needed to be done. I just couldn't take it any more!

It was hot - the beginning of the 100+ degree afternoons - and soon Tom was upstairs snoozing on the couch.  

And sure enough, the next day he had forgotten all about the "trash or treasure" clean-up - he was measuring, cutting and hammering all day long. 100 degrees by 9am? So what! Drink more water...Aching neck, shoulders and back? Live with it! He was a man on a mission.

And let me tell you, that ceiling is looking good! Just like he envisioned it. The clean-up can wait a little longer, I guess. It helps just knowing I won't ever have to move that pile of boards again!

Sidetracked

Tom stood in the doorway, bent over, hands on his knees.

"Did you almost faint or something?"

He shook his head, smiling. Or was it a grimace? "My back. Here...help me." He put a hand on my shoulder and pushed until (groaning the whole way) he was standing up straight. He hobbled back over to the bed and, groaning loudly again, stretched out flat. (Sigh of relief.)

Well, so much for our Friday night plans - a birthday party and music in the woods. And all it took was working a screwdriver in just the right "wrong" position a little too long to weaken some important muscle (or disc? Hope not!), and then just the right "wrong" movement a few hours later to throw it into a tizzy.

Poor Tom...this was going to be a weekend to get things done. He always has several projects going at once, plus all the surprise attacks that pop up...the most recent is a search for the least-expensive new carburetor he can find for the Suzuki Samurai so it can pass the emissions inspection. Despite his aching back, he set his alarm to wake him up early this morning, determined to "get things done" (I kept snoozing)...but a few hours sitting at the computer already did him in: he's back in bed. I keep asking what I can do to help - I've even offered to clean the jacuzzi tub for him to soak in for a while to soothe those muscles. He just says leave him alone and quit bothering him. Such a sweetheart. So I'm biting my tongue and leaving him alone to groan in peace and solitude (although I still think soaking in the tub would help.)

I'm having a great weekend so far, though! I've been tackling to-do lists...sticking to my work-outs...catching up with laundry and Facebook. What a surprise to sign on there last night and discover a video of myself as a baby, being held, bounced and kissed by my grandmother and mother (and a glimpse of my thirty-three-year-old dad in the background.) My cousin digitalized her parents' old family movies and is generously sharing clips of them...such priceless memories and images, frozen in time in a way that photographs just can't deliver. Thank you Aunt Mavis and Uncle Charles for recording them, and Charlene for preserving and sharing them! It's given me new incentive to dig out our old VHS tapes and finally transfer them to DVD - a summer project I planned to tackle two summers ago that somehow slipped off of my to-do list (well, more likely got pushed off by more urgent duties!)  

   Last night I also took advantage of having Daniel home to get my funny movie fix - we watched "Bowfinger" with Steve Martin and Eddie Murphy. It's full of talented people and lots of laughs and has probably the funniest movie ending I've ever seen. I've lost count of how many times I've seen it, but it still makes me cry with laughter. Of course, I love silly movies. Keep that in mind...

But now break-time is over...Kendall and I are headed into town to shop for dorm things. Summer is almost over, once again...

The Puppy Question

With Charly getting older and older, it keeps coming up... should we get a puppy? I've always heard that the best puppy trainer is an old dog...they can teach the boundaries, rules of the household, and the alpha order much better than humans. 

Charly certainly did an awesome job with Max. But...I still hesitate getting a puppy right now. For one thing, Charly is SO old - I think a puppy would just put too much of a strain on him.

Second, there's no such thing as a FREE puppy. Even if it doesn't cost anything up front (and we never pay for dogs - we only get mutts), there's no telling what kind of problem they might have that will end up costing BIG BUCKS! Case in point...Max wandered up to our house. Didn't cost a thing, even gas money to go get him! But because of the German Shepherd gene, he has a congenital joint problem and has to eat special food and take special supplements that cost...well, let's just say a big chunk of my salary every month. Between his "special" needs, Charly's thyroid medicine, and the usual flea and heartworm prevention, I'm in the vet's office at least once a week, picking up something. When we get a pet, we get them for life, "through sickness and health, till death do us part." They are part of our family from day one - there are no 'returns.'

And third - I'm working now! And writing more. Puppies are a LOT of work. They need a LOT of attention. There's the playtime, and the neutering time, and the "living inside for a few days and walking on leashes after surgery so they don't jump in the pond" time.

But...they're so cute. When Charly's gone, Max will be so lonely. Sure, he's got Frankie and they're big buddies, but it's just not the same. Not like him and Charly.

Well, I'll keep thinking about it, weighing the pros and cons. I wouldn't be surprised if one just shows up on our porch one day, just like Max and Frankie. Then the decision will be made for me.

One thing's for sure - my morning walks just won't be the same when Charly's gone, new puppy or not ...

Just Me, Max and the Moon

The moon overflowed into the dark livingroom this morning; its light poured through the french doors and splashed across the floor to my bedroom door, forming a path of light that beckoned me outside. How could I resist?

And there it was, waiting for me just above the tree tops. Its radiance kissed my upturned face and chased shadows in the hollow.

Max stirred at the end of the deck - too quickly to have been asleep. I suspect he, too, had been lured there by the magic of the moonlight. He joined me and we stood together, staring at the moon and the masterpiece it rendered in the hollow with a few strokes of moonlight....

"Tamara, Tamara, Tamara"

"You dyed your hair blonde! Are you trying to look like Tamara?" It had been twenty years since we graduated from high school, but to this guy, Tamara was still the standard of perfection.

And, no, I did NOT dye my hair blonde so that I would look like Tamara. Geez.

I don't hold a grudge against Tamara for this comparison. She can't help it that she's been at the pinnacle of nearly all the guys' "ultimate-girlfriend" wish lists since 8th grade, when her long blonde hair reminded everyone of Marcia Brady.

 

For one thing, Tamara has never let it go to her head - one reason why I still enjoy being around her after forty years of friendship, give or take a few.  

I'm sure her blonde hair, blue eyes and dimples had something to do with all the crushes on her, but I know that's not the only reason. Tamara has such a down-to-earth, fun personality - there are different layers, but none are fake. One minute she's quiet, shy...demure; the next minute she's slapping her leg, boisterously laughing at her own joke. She's mischievous...impish...a tomboy that loves playing practical jokes all dressed up in the latest feminine styles and pretty jewelry...

Tamara is laughter...fun...mischief...tenderness...strength...grace...charm...a devoted sister, friend and  grandma...slumber parties and wrapping houses...riding ten-speeds through Deepwater...skits to make us laugh...prank phone calls...the Crosby Stomp...double-dating with guys who didn't deserve us...Garner State Park and Port Aransas with Marla...and now...even more slumber parties and birthday celebrations...

She's a rock. When times get tough (and they have for her...very tough), she stands up tall (well, she's only about 5'2", but you know what I mean...) and forges on, doing what needs to be done, kicking butt and taking names, or just being strong for others - whatever is called for, she'll take care of it. You don't want to cross her, that's for sure.

But if she's on your side, you are truly blessed, because she'll be there till the end. I'm one of those lucky blessed ones...even though life has kept us moving in mostly different directions, she's been one of those constants I knew I could count on...one of those friends that, no matter how long it's been since you talked, the time in-between just goes 'poof' and disappears, as if it was just yesterday.

Have a wonderful new year, Tamara...I hope it's the best one yet. You deserve it.

Seems like yesterday...Tamara gagging Teason (don't ask)...Debbie and Tamara, making us laugh...Deepwater girls in Debbie's room...Tamara and me ready for the Sock Hop...Tamara and me (and friends), Senior Kid Day

 

 

  

The Real Women's Liberation

It's a busy, busy night that followed a busy, busy day - I'm finally winning in my battle with procrastination - and I didn't plan on posting anything tonight, but I came across an article by Meredith Maran in the October 2008 edition of More magazine (yes, I'm a little behind on my reading) that was just too good not to share.

At first, I thought I would preface this post with a warning to men, but on second thought, I think they might be interested, too - if they have anything to do with middle-aged women, that is.  But I'm mainly posting it for women my age who now know what "perimenopausal" means...those of you who are suffering through hot flashes, etc. and perhaps thinking it's only going to get worse when Queen Menopause herself arrives.

Well, according to the article ("The Reward for Perimenopause? Menopause!") - you're wrong! It gets better! In fact, the last sentence is..."Contrary to popular opinion, menopause is a gift to women."

I hear you laughing!  You're probably rolling your eyes, too...Yes, it seems a tad overly optimistic, but just read the article and see for yourself... (click here.)

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes (Yesterday In Pictures)

A new stage in life for Daniel as of yesterday...no more dorms. We loaded up the black truck and the van with most of his bedroom and delivered it to a quiet apartment complex several blocks from the university. I have to give him and his roommate Austin credit for doing their homework and settling for one that isn't fancy and isn't close, but is within peddling distance (and on a bus route for rainy days.) They even had the forethought to get one on the ground floor to save on electricity during these 100+ days. We were sure grateful for that point when we were unloading beds, couches and heavy boxes from Austin's stuffed U-Haul trailer. (The loaded-down black truck...Daniel and Austin carrying in couch after couch...Austin's a great scavenger!)

Now we only hope they focus on their OTHER homework...

That was the last tour of duty for the black truck. Tom and I used it as our "clunker" in the government's "Cash for Clunker" program. Now there's a pretty little "apple red pearl" Hyundai Elantra sitting in its place out front. I never thought I'd own a new car again. Life is full of surprises! (our wonderful salesman Sean - what a great kid!...my new little Elantra...can you tell it's been a long, long day?)

Uncertain Skies...Reminders of a Year in the Life

"Barbara Inez...just what have you been up to? I mean I've already been gone a week and I'm sure a lot has happened..."  "...Barb, I hope you get your tail in gear and get up here to see me. It's just beautiful..."  "I've always loved that song "You've got a friend" by Carol King and it fits us perfectly..." 

I found these words last week in a yellow and orange scrapbook filled with ticket stubs, letters, newspaper clippings and other relics of 1977. They're from Ann to me, from Utah to Texas, 32 years ago. 

So much has happened recently that reminds me of those years. There was Kendall's high school graduation and eighteenth birthday, and then this morning Daniel moved into his first apartment. I didn't move into mine until 1978, but events in 1977 pushed me in that direction.

This morning's sky held gray clouds that hinted at rain, but also patches of sunshine-filled blue...just the right balance of uncertainty and hopefulness for Daniel's move-in day and the beginning of a new chapter in his life...living off campus with his own bedroom and a roommate who's future also hinges on how this semester goes. 

 Sunshine prevailed - no rain fell to ruin his furniture and clothes packed tight in the back of the truck. We need the rain, but I was grateful for sunshine today. I hope it portends a semester with a happy, sunshine-y ending. I keep hoping my kids learn from my college mistakes - I want them to hang on, bounce back, keep trying.

As if moving Daniel into an apartment wasn't enough, today we bought a brand new car!! Specifically an apple red Hyundai Elantra. It's the first new car I've owned in almost twenty years...the first compact car in more than twenty. I admit - it's scary. But we couldn't afford to NOT take advantage of the government's Cash for Clunkers program. We doubled our money on our old black truck after abusing it for five years...AND we have a full warranty. It was our early anniversary gift to each other - for me, a new car...for Tom, freedom from working on my car.

But it also reminded me of 1977...the year of my first new car - a Toyota Celica GT Liftback - and Bad Company's "Burning Sky" on 8-Track.

1977 was my first real 8 to 5 job...Stephen King books...Star Wars...Ted Nugent...Bad Company...Kiss...Eagles...South Padre on the 4th of July with Ann, Jena and Carey...a week with Ann at Utah State when I found out my parents were getting divorced...a feeling that I was lost, falling, drowning.

1977 was University of Houston... scholarships and chemical engineering...and days driving to Galveston, sitting on the seawall , too overwhelmed by the thoughts swirling in my head to worry about school...

1977 was an intense year  - one of more highs and lows than any other in my life. It was almost my last...

It seems ironically appropriate...almost too coincidental, as if it was written this way for a movie...that the autumn night I returned my Homecoming Queen crown was a night I decided there was nothing in my life worth living for. It wasn't a conscious, premeditated thought...the idea had never even crossed my mind before! Rather, it was an impulsive, depression-fueled-by-alcohol action, followed by "Oh, my gosh, what have I done?" In that instant when it was almost too late, I realized that no matter how bad I thought things were, I wanted to live.

I guess that's all God needed - I had turned my back on him a year or two before, but he hadn't forgotten me. He sent angels to watch over me and rescue me that night, and later, my sister's tears washed the remaining dark clouds from my brain - the ones I had let slip in to distort reality. It broke my heart to know I had hurt her and the rest of my family. I'm ashamed now to admit I let such piddly little obstacles break my spirit. I'd like to say I was much stronger than that. But I had forgotten the source of my strength, and when my other moorings were broken, I floundered.

Looking through the scrapbook reminds me how weak I really am, by myself. I shared my experience with my kids years ago, hoping it would be a reminder to them that no matter how bad things get, as long as you're breathing you have hope...you have a chance to change things...and that no matter how badly you screw up, God is standing by, ready to pick you back up if you just ask.

On the practical side, I've also warned them not to drink when they're depressed. I think everyone has up days and down days - that's just normal. It's human. But alcohol magnifies those dark clouds - it keeps you from seeing that there is still blue sky peeking from behind, and that soon the clouds will pass on by. I still have those days myself, but instead of trying to drink my sorrows away, I write my sorrows...pray my sorrows...love my sorrows away.

Back in 1977 I felt like all my friends had scattered and I was all alone. But looking through the scrapbook I see nothing but familiar faces and names...faces and names that for the most part are still a part of my life.

Ann, of course...we still write each other (only it's in e-mails or Facebook messages), talk on the phone, dance, even wrap houses. Mark, my boyfriend's little brother, who I felt was MY little brother. Tamara...another constant friend who had a birthday this week. My sister Brenda, whose tears woke me up. My parents, who taught me about unconditional love. They worked things out and remarried after four years - another example that you should never give up. Randy, who has popped in and out of my life over the years...a friend who helped me remember there were good things about my 1977 self...things worth dusting off and protecting. I have him to thank for encouraging me to stubbornly stay in school and turn back to writing.

   They have all faced much, MUCH bigger challenges, setbacks, obstacles, disappointments, sorrows than I ever have ...yet they haven't been broken. Every day they inspire me.

I shared my story just in case it helps someone else who feels like they have screwed up too bad or too often to ever make it right, or that they don't have anyone who cares about them so "it doesn't really matter..." I thank God every day that I'm still here...I look at all the blessings I've been given - my husband, my kids, my family and friends...and today, a new car! We may never realize what our lives mean in the whole grand scheme of things - we can only trust that they do mean something, and try to do our best with what we are given... We have to make sure our lives make a difference somehow.  Never, ever think it's too late. Never, ever take them for granted.