Living in the Moment...

As I sit here, collecting my thoughts, I look up and see the most beautiful sight: dappled sunlight on the wall in front of me. It's beautiful. The reds and greens illuminated by gentle golden light.

The picture on my new calendar is a view of a centuries-old city on a Greek isle. Whitewashed buildings with bright blue or yellow roofs. Touches of orange dot the hillside in the picture. Was it always that bright? Or did the sunlight emphasize the colors?

It's that time of year: the sunset happens quickly. I have to hurry, or I will miss it. I could be at the seashore, sitting in a chair, sipping iced tea and watching the sun go down. Or on that Greek isle, watching the sun melt into the ocean.

But no, I'm here, at home, noticing something that is too often taken for granted. The gorgeous show put on by the sun, most evenings of the year. No cover charge, no minimum. No reservations needed. No planning ahead. No dressing up for the occasion. Just a remembering: that it is happening and that it is more spectacular and worthy of watching than anything else that is going on.

Well maybe, the birth of a baby. That might be worth missing the sunset....

Ah, there's always tomorrow night. Or is there? I have been without my sunshine for several days now, and without the sunset, too, obviously. Will there be sunshine tomorrow? I certainly hope so. But, just in case.....

I'm off to watch the sunset right now. Right here. In the moment...

Paper or Plastic?

I just got back from the grocery store. Not the big one, with aisle after aisle of tempting products. No, I went to the little one, on the corner, just blocks from me.

I have shopped there for forty years. I used to be able to say that I could shop there in a coma and still find what I needed. Not anymore: a few years ago, they started moving things around. They had so much fun doing it that they have never stopped.

Just ONE TIME, I suggested that they put a sign where stuff used to be, with the aisle number of where it is now..... They did it. And every row had, like, a million signs directing people to other parts of the store. That was more confusing to everybody, including me.

I didn't really need much today. I went to Super Target on Monday and then Costco. I just needed a couple of things to go with the meal that's been in the crock pot since early this morning. I didn't even spend fifteen dollars, grand total.

But that's not what impressed me in the store. And yes, it IS sad that a quick trip to the grocery store was the highlight of my day, but that's life. Life in Podunk.

What impressed me were the people who work there. The turnover at that store is amazing. Well, mostly because they employ young people, and young people go away to college, I guess. And then, there's Marilyn: she's been there for about a century. Back when, she was one of the “young people” and Reba was the centenarian. And now, since Reba's retired, Marilyn's the “fixture” in the store.

I like Marilyn, she's nice. And she talks to herself. Or maybe she's talking to the groceries. In either case, she says the name of the item, the price per pound, and the total. Nobody else does that. I don't even remember Reba doing that....

But that's not what impressed me, either. It was two of the young people: Samantha and Ephraim. Samantha was the checker and E (as they call him) was rushing around, helping customers.

Samantha has a shortened left arm, but no left hand. Judging from the stump, it is a birth defect and not an injury. I have a friend who has a young daughter with the same defect and I have sent her in to meet Samantha, which they did. The four-year-old got to meet someone just like her, and that was good.

And then, there's E. I don't know what happened in his case, but part of his left shoulder and his entire left arm and hand are missing. It doesn't seem to slow him down one bit. Nor does it keep him from smiling.

He's the reason why I don't need signs posted all over the store anymore: he always asks if I am looking for something and, if I am, he knows exactly where it is. He is more outgoing than Samantha, but they are both good employees.

And inspiring...

In Search of the Sun...

It was a cold and gloomy day today here in Podunk. We haven't seen the sun in several days.

This afternoon, about 2, I decided to go in search of the sun. By 3, I was sitting in a restaurant, eating lunch, and looking out at the sun sparkling on the river below. I was only about a mile, as the crow flies, from the entrance to Sequoia National Park.

By 4, I was in the park, taking photos:


I found the sun AND the moon!


The clouds coming in, reddened by the setting sun.


A 3/4 moon, through a barren tree....

As the clouds and fog started up the mountains, I headed back home. A short, but lovely, trip up above the cloud line had lifted my spirits. Things that bothered me, in the fog this morning, were gone. As the sun washed over the landscape, the worries and clouds were gone.

I am, indeed, a child of the sun....

Renewal, Rejoicing, and Beer Bread...

Today has been a really good day. I wanted to write down what happened, so I won't lose it. So, here I am, in the kitchen, writing and watching. Watching the broccoli cook and waiting for the bread to be done.

Broccoli soup and beer bread for supper tonight. And brownies for dessert. Typical fare on a cold, early winter night. The air is crisp, the sky is cloudy, and there's mist on the windows. The  lights are on, and music is playing on the stereo.

I sing along with the songs, and poke the broccoli with a fork every once in awhile, to see if it is done yet. When it is, I will start the cream part of the soup in the soup kettle, mixing butter and flour to make a thick paste. Then I'll add the broccoli and chicken broth.

Meanwhile, the beer bread is in the oven. I can smell it now....

And, as I cook and sing along and watch, I am thinking about today. This morning, quite unexpectedly, I received a call from my daughter-in-law. In Italy. I was meant to get the call: I was sitting right next to the phone, dusting it off!

I wrote a comment on a picture she posted on Facebook the other day. I was feeling melancholy at the time and missing my son and grandsons. I commented that I missed them desperately and that I didn't think the boys would even know me.

She called to tell me that is not true: the boys know all about their Grandma and have my picture, too. I told her that her phone call was the best present I could possibly receive. After talking for a few minutes, she promised she would call more often, and then we said goodbye. International phone calls are not cheap. I hope we can Skype the next call.

And this afternoon, my daughter called me: she will be here for the weekend. She works in healthcare, too, and time off on weekends off are a rare commodity. I am thrilled that she and her husband will be joining us.

Yes, sometimes I do get carried away. I have lights everywhere, and music playing. It is what renews me and reminds me of what is important in life. Time with family is about love, hope and renewal. Life gets too hard, sometimes, and these days together reminds me that I am very fortunate to have such a wonderful life and loving family.

Oh, and in case you're wondering, here's the Beer Bread recipe:

Heat oven to 350. Grease a loaf pan.

Mix together 3 cups of SELF-RISING flour (no, regular flour won't work), 3 tablespoons of sugar, and a can or bottle (12 oz) of beer. Mix well and 'plop' it in the loaf pan. Bake for 1 hour, then let it cool for a few minutes before you try to cut it.

Enjoy!

Rainy Day Thoughts....

I've known for a little more than two weeks that I will be having a procedure done on Thursday. I have been too busy to think about it much.

Today has been a quiet day, with gray skies. Cooler, too. Noelle has been off with her cousins having a lovely time. Inside for most of the day, it finally got to me....

I talked to a good friend yesterday. Actually, she is an RN and was making the pre-op phone call to tell me all about what will happen on Thursday. Her voice sounded familiar and my knowledge of what was going to happen piqued her interest. We realized that we worked together in the hospital OR many years ago.

I am glad she called: she says she has seen very good results from this procedure. That makes me feel better about doing it. I have never been scared about it, just cautious and concerned.

It has been a long time since I was pain-free. If this procedure can take away the pain, well, that will be great. I have decided to be positive about it; I am expecting good results. Mind over matter, as the saying goes....

I can tolerate the pain, most of the time. It's the uncertainty that has brought me to my knees a couple of times. Will I get better? Will I be able to work again? Is this how it ends? I admit that, on a cold and rainy day, such thoughts can take over and derail my positive attitude.

I decided to go to the new Hobby Lobby store that opened yesterday. I found stickers to decorate the photo journal I want to make of my trip in October. It took my mind off of Thursday....

My phone rang while I was shopping and it was my former DIL: she needed to do something and wanted to know if I could take Noelle and Mckay for awhile. I went through the checkout (50% off everything I bought!) and drove to her house to pick up the kids.

It's funny how things happen. Within five minutes of driving home with the kids in the back, they had me laughing again. Full of energy, full of ideas, and hungry, too, I drove them home to spend the evening with me.

They ate as if they hadn't eaten in days. Then they played games on the Wii for awhile. At the end, just before Jo was due back to pick up Mckay, they were playing hide and seek.....and getting under foot as I was trying to do the dishes. Oh well...

It's late now, Mckay has gone home with his mom. Noelle just came in to say “goodnight” and I sent her off to bed with a long hug. It's raining quite hard right now: I can hear it on the roof. But it isn't bothering me: I have found my happy again.

Kids do that to me.....

It's Me, and Me, and ME!

Sometimes, I wonder. Do I really have to be me?

I mean, really? Sure, just like everyone else, I spent all that time and all that angst figuring out who I am. And yes, “at our age” we know who we are and we accept ourselves wholly. Don't we? We've been through so many things, we know how to cope. How to adjust. How to flex.

But do we know how to change? Sure, we know how to roll with the punches, land on our feet, and get through things. We know how to change jobs, change locations, change partners, change names, change tires, and yada, yada, yada.

Haven't you ever dreamed of being somebody else, somewhere else? It's not that I'm unhappy with my life: my life is rich and full and rewarding. I just wonder, sometimes, if there are other versions of me. Inside of me....

Like my friend in the photo. She is a Librarian. She got the wig at the Halloween Store, and the glasses were part of a magic set, until the “magic” lenses fell out. And now, she's into books. And seriousness. And being a woman of a certain age. All in fun, of course.

She's a 'tween and expected to try on different personas so she can figure out who she is and who she wants to be. We allow it at her age and we call it part of growing up. So, kids try on various personalities the same as we try on shoes.

Well, I want to try on different personalities, too! I want to be someone I'm not. I want to see how it feels, and see if it fits. If not, I'll just have to be me, right? But at least I can try.

The Librarian will be here in another couple of weeks, to spend the holidays with her family. She will run through her personas with lightening speed, changing who she is with every sentence. Laughing, talking, gesturing, smiling and wearing me out in no time at all. But that's okay: I need the exercise.

When people ask me how old she is, I always say “she's ten, going on thirty.....”

Perhaps new personas will materialize while she is here. I'm hoping to see my favorite: Super Becky. She pronounces it Shooper Beckay and it just makes me smile. She tells me that I can be Shooper Grandma....

Maybe I just will!

Connections...

You can't live in a small town, for as long as I have, without having things intertwine. Things that don't seem related.....are. People who seem to be related.....aren't. That's just how it is in Podunk.

Recently, I had the opportunity to go to an “Open House” down the street from my home. My daughter-in-law invited me to join her and look at the famous house on the corner just two blocks from my house.

I remember it as a drab, brown farmhouse but that was many years ago. More recently, the owner of a cleaning company bought it and renovated it. No longer drab and brown, it became a brick beauty with Gothic and Victorian features.

Sitting on a huge lot, with a gargantuan oak tree dominating the yard, it is quite a sight to see. For years, the owner allowed groups from the local high schools to take yearbook pictures in front of the giant tree. Frequently, coming and going from my own home, I would see brides and grooms and wedding parties being photographed under the tree, too.

And then, he died. The house was put up for sale by his estate and purchased by a couple of entrepreneurs. Apparently, they looked at the house and had an “aha” moment: they planned to open a business in the house. A photography business. They would charge people to use the property and to be photographed under the great oak tree.

They ended up in bankruptcy as local people stayed away in droves. Everyone remembered the kindly man who allowed use of his property—for free-- and no one seemed interested in paying the new owners for the same privilege.

Until the recent tour of the house, I had only been in it one other time, as a teenager. The then-owners needed a babysitter and their regular one was busy. Another neighbor recommended me. I just sat with their children that one time. I really don't remember anything about the house except that it was a nondescript older home with lots of little rooms.

Talking to the realtor at the open house, I learned the name of the original owners. I had forgotten, after only sitting for them the one time. But I knew the name very well. And I knew why I remembered it.

As a young nurse, working the night shift at the local hospital, I had taken care of a memorable patient. She was on our nursing unit for more than two months. It was unusual to have a patient for that long, but she was too ill to go to a nursing home. And we didn't want her to leave, either.

She had become our special patient, bravely battling cancer. A mere ninety pounds or so, and barely five feet tall, she was iron-willed. A force to be reckoned with. Oh, she was as kind as she could be to the staff and her family, but the cancer that was killing her was the enemy. She was not going to go without a fight. Or, before she was ready.

Her daughter was engaged to be married in the spring. The wedding plans had been made. Despite her illness and weakness, she was determined to attend the wedding. Dress fittings, shoe shopping, and hair styling became nursing functions, occurring between chemotherapy, wound care, and rest.

On the day of the wedding, she was strong enough to be released from the hospital long enough to attend the ceremony. She was accompanied by our Nurse Manager and the Charge Nurse. The three of them posed for pictures in their wedding finery before leaving for the ceremony.

Coming in to work that evening, I was one of those who got to see all the Polaroid pictures that were taken. The patient was exhausted from the day's activities and went to sleep with a smile on her face. Although her physician had okayed the plan, we were still relieved that she had been able to do it.

And less than a week later, she died on my shift. I remember calling her husband and telling him. He came in and looked at her and left quickly, without speaking. And I spent the next several hours cleaning her room. I stripped the bedsheets and washed the mattress and the bed frame. I mopped the floor and cleaned the bathroom.

The housekeeper came up to the floor and told me that she would finish cleaning the room. I told her that I needed to do it myself....

Somehow, in all those years, I had not put that patient and that house together. As I think back about it now, I remember so much about that time early in my nursing career. She was not the first of my patients to die, and certainly not the last. But somehow, for some reason, I needed the closure of cleaning her room.

And now, I understand why....

Polka Dots....

My granddaughter told me about it when she was here for Thanksgiving. A comforter, for her bed, with “neon bright” polka dots and a black background. That's what she wanted for Christmas.

She wanted it because she saw it in a store and liked it. Her current bedspread is “old” and “worn” according to her. She is almost eleven, so she would know.

Mostly, what I heard, when she was talking, was that she wanted to choose the bedspread for her own room. She was willing to be guided by others, but she wanted to make the final choice. Seems reasonable to me.

Yesterday afternoon, I picked her up at Aunt Jo's house. She had spent a whirlwind four days with her cousins, and was ready to come back to the relative boredom of Grandma's house. She had had a chance to spend quality time with her cousins, and Grandma had a chance to recuperate from her procedure last Thursday.

Before heading home, I asked her to accompany me on a search.....for her bedspread. I had her call her mother and make sure that, if I bought her a new bedspread for her birthday (tomorrow), she would be allowed to use it at home. Mom said “of course” and we were off in search of polka dots.

I might mention that it was pouring down rain for the whole time we were out shopping, too!

We went to one store and lingered in the linen department. I saw a chance to teach: “don't get anything here if you don't love it, there are other places to look. Don't settle.....” And she didn't.

The next store had only one youthful bedspread/comforter, and it was polka dot. But the background was white, not black. Again: “....don't settle. If this is not what you wanted, let's keep looking.”

And finally, we made it through the rain to the third store. As we walked into the linen department, she spied the polka dot bedspread of her dreams. I spotted another one, called “Tangerine Dreams” which I thought was lovely. She liked it, too.

And then, down to business. The one I found has to be dry cleaned. Forget that. I had to explain to her what dry cleaning is, and then, she didn't want it, either. So, on to the polka dots. Black background? Yes. Neon bright dots? Yes. Machine washable? Yes.

Oh, and it's reversible and comes with sheets and THREE pillowcases, too. And there are throw pillows, too. She walked back over to the dry clean only bedspread: it had decorative pillows, too. Ah, but they are $45/each. Not happening, sorry....

So yes, this frivolous outing had a purpose. She was listened to, and got what she asked for. Sort of. She didn't get the impractical bedspread, or the expensive throw pillows, or other decorative items. She got to choose what she wanted, within reason, and make decisions about her own space.

Now, when she looks at her room, it will be decorated in polka dots of her own choosing. It will make her smile to look at it, and it will make her feel good about herself because:

She was worth all that shopping in the rain!

A New Year....

It's a new dawn. It's a new day. It's even a new decade: the second one in a new millennium!

Such an auspicious day and date should not be taken lightly. I need to have plans. Hopes. Dreams. Goals.

Resolutions? I don't think so....

What I wish for myself, I wish for you, too: Happiness, Peace, Contentment with your place in life, Love, Honor and Joy in the little things. It's the little things that comprise the big things, I think.

May you find just enough peanut butter to make yourself a sandwich, just enough sunshine to plant a garden full of flowers, just enough rain to nourish your soul, and abundant laughter to make everything it touches worthwhile.

Happy New Year, All!