Give yourself a treat! I know I will.

Today is one of those days that reminds me I have reached my age.  I had to wake up early and not eat so I could have my lab work drawn for my semi-annual visit to the doctor.  It reminds me of how old I am.  I find myself thinking  “How old was my mom when…” to compare myself to what I remember about her.  “How old was mom when my son was born?”  or “How old was my mom when she moved to Florida”.  I remember mom going to the doctor regularly, as did my dad, when they moved to Florida.  It seemed like one of them was there all the time.

It’s beginning to feel that way to me, too.  It seems that I am either at the doctor or calling in a prescription for refill every other day.  It’s annoying.  It’s bothersome.  I don’t like lab work.  I don’t particularly like my doctor all that much to pay to see him.  I mean, he’s nice but not worth the price of admission, if you know what I mean. 

So I award myself a little prize on days that I must fast, then have lab work for my doctor’s appointment in a week or so.  It’s the Burger King Bacon, Cheese and Egg croissant.  Since my doctor is not far from the local BK I just drive myself right over there to treat myself to this high fat, highly satisfying breakfast sandwich.  I have to get up earlier, do something with my hair, put on clothes way too early for my normal routine and to the lab, wait, stick, here’s your cup, see you later and breakfast before 10:00 a.m.

Now, understand, I only do this on lab work days. I am to eat breakfast every day, or so the dietician told me, and she did show me portion sizes and make suggestions.  I am pretty good with my toast and egg or cereal and fruit. Granted she did not say the Burger King Croissanwich is an excellent choice for breakfast, but it is once every six months, so I think I’m good.  

Besides, it’s French and it makes me feel fancy.

Bottling joy.

I am running between visits to the capitol city as I participate in various events for grandchildren and at the end of this week, I am going to attend my first “Grandparents Day”. I am looking forward to it, probably more than is acceptable but that’s how we grannies do it.

I had a great experience with my 5-almost-6 year old granddaughter over the weekend. Minor, silly and a first for her and I. We played Crazy 8s. These are such standout moments for me that I often wonder why I don’t really remember playing Crazy 8s with my own children. I’m sure I did but I just don’t really recall it. I am SURE, however, that I am going to remember this session of Crazy 8s with my brilliant granddaughter for a very long time.

There was something about the look on her face, her eyes lighting up as she scanned her cards, her giggle as she would win a hand, her victory squeal, a little dance in her chair.

How can this bring me to tears? To the heights of joy? I wish I could bottle it but instead all I can do is ask her to deal out another game…I want this to last forever.

 

No complaints here!

I love the weaving together of people and their stories.  This is not new for me and I may have bored you with it before.  It’s more than small town “Hey, they married so and so, who is my such and such”.  It’s a bit more global and it amazes me when it happens.

 

I also truly enjoy when people come together in a way that you wouldn’t otherwise expect or spend a lot of time planning.  Now, granted, there has to be some commonality and a certain amount of intent but it still is an enjoyable thing.  My weekend held a couple of these kinds of happenings.  Let me explain. 

 

Facebook is a wonderful tool.  It is abused and misused but it is also a wonderful communication tool.  The fact that we get to eavesdrop on others conversations is a bit disturbing,  but hey, Facebook isn’t new…haven’t we all learned by now to be a bit discreet about what we post on Facebook? If you haven’t, well, don’t look to the other guy as to be at fault.  Anyway, I noticed on Facebook that a few of my circle of friends were arranging to attend a 5K race. Not being a runner (I know, shocker) at first it was more like a “Hey, that’s a neat event” but it turned in to a little more as others started commenting they would be joining in.  
 

But hating to be left out of anything…I chimed in.  Long story short, I was at breakfast yesterday with some folks that would be unusual to put together on any other day.  It was their connections with each other, though, and with me, that caused us to be breaking bread, in a noisy restaurant.  I love this kind of stuff.  I realized as I sat there that my son and daughter-in-law were the common denominators, and that made it fun for them, although I am not sure they stopped to think about it as much as I did.  In fact, I’m just gonna go right ahead and say bet not. 

 

Weekends are wonderful things and I truly hope we can continue to make the most of ours, and everyday.  This weekend was another reminder to me of how very lucky we are, how very blessed.   We started with a fun and successful football game, a marching band with state honors, a satisfying breakfast in a big city with people I love, and ended the weekend celebrating one of my all-time favorite people.  Complain about anything in my life?  Well, no, I wouldn’t possibly dare!   

One tiny last hurrah

Hubs has been working really hard on the leaves this week.  It’s a big chore with all our oak and maple trees.  He is a machine when it comes to the leaves, however, and he has machines to help…a blower and a vacuum thing that goes behind his tractor.  Except for the amount of time it takes, it is much easier than it was years ago before obtaining these pieces of equipment.

I don’t want to take anything from him, though.  He is a hard working guy and I appreciate all that he does to keep the yard in tip-top shape.  It looks beautiful out my office window.  He took the extra step to blow the leaves off my walking trail and bridge and it makes all the difference when looking out this window to see the trail cut through the woods.  I love it.

I did bring up a sore subject yesterday, however, in the midst of his packing up his gear and tools for the day.  Christmas lights.  Now, we have a tree we decorated with lights last year.  This small tree, near the house, has the lights on it year round and is super pretty.  But, I like lighted trees and yesterday I walked around in the woods looking trees over to see if there were any candidates out there.  I pointed out a couple and he only grunted.  You would think he didn’t enjoy the lights, but I know he does.  He either hates putting them up or hates putting them up with my “assistance”. 

Let’s face it, I’m not much help.  I get cold.  I can’t reach very high and I’m kind of fussy.  I try to direct the circling of the branches as gently as I can, but, it’s not always the sender, you know, sometimes it is the receiver.  Some of this may sound a bit familiar to you as the little tree, which now has lights, has been talked about before.  Anyway, he didn’t see a tree that he thinks will work so that brings me to fake trees.  I have asked if he could “build” a tree from branches cut from live trees and he looked at me like I have developed a third eye. It can’t be impossible, can it? To put some sand and rocks or whatever in a bucket, shove some fairly good sized limbs in and call it a tree? I’ll let you know how this discussion goes…it ain’t over.

I was busy yesterday, too, emptying planters and putting away garden ornaments.  I removed flowers and dirt and put all the empty pots in one place, moved shovels and watering cans and rakes.  I sometimes have let flowers winter over in pots and then have that to deal with in the spring, when I am anxious to plant.  This year, I was rewarded as I emptied a pot near a rose bush.  Near the ground, on a little tiny branch, was a small, fragrant rose.  A bit cold and late for new blooms, isn’t it? But this was my reward for being a good steward to my plants this year…isn’t she sweet?   

Watermelon, watermelon.

I had the cutest, little round, sweet-faced grandmother of all time.  She was iconic in her ways and her appearance.  So absolutely precious, and almost as wide as tall, she raised chickens and sold watermelons by the side of the road.   She had a nickname that summed her up, cast upon her by her first grandchild, Bannie.

My Bannie was a southern grandmother.  She was not the fully-gowned, coifed and bejeweled southern grandmother of novels and movies.  She was hardworking in her little farm and kitchen, with a sweet almost gravely voice and a way of playing the piano, and the accordion, that entertained and ministered at the same time ~ a cross between ragtime and gospel, Bannie banged out self-taught songs and hymns with passion and pleasure.  I miss her terribly at times as I know I will never run across another individual like my Bannie.  Gosh, I wish you ALL could have known my grandmother. 

I use to love to walk among the watermelons, which lay in her shady front yard.  They were sweet, they were cool and they were plentiful.  They had them brought in by the truckload, not grown on their property, but they took up residence until a customer came to test Bannie’s crop.  My grandfather, Boppa, settled in near the shed as Bannie worked her magic and picked out just the right melon for you.  Oh, he would work the customers, too, but I remember Bannie the most, bending her squat roundness, much like the melon itself, and "thumping" the melon, pluck it from the rows upon rows on the ground, hold it over her shoulder in one hand, smile her sweet smile and declare the melon ripe. If you questioned it, why, take it to my grandfather and have him plug it.  He would cut a triangle deep into the melon’s flesh to pull out a sweet, juicy portion.  If you needed to have your melon cold, say, on your way to a family get together or picnic, well, that was accomplished easily as well as melons were plunged in ice water in a large cooler to float and twirl and chill.  It was heaven there.

Bannie loved.  She loved us deeply and forgivingly and we could do no wrong in Bannie’s eyes.  When we visited, she would find little items to give to us among her treasures.  Bannie never had a lot, but she gave to us every time.  As she got older, and we got wiser, we learned to take it when Bannie offered you something.  If you were reluctant, perhaps thinking she wasn’t thinking clearly or might still need it, she was going to give it to someone else when they visited.

Sweet memories of my Bannie came flooding back to me last week as I seasoned a cast iron skillet she gave me on one of my last visits, before she got sick.  I was reluctant to take it as thought she might still use it as she fried up a mean chicken, let me tell you.  I thought about her telling me it belonged to a great aunt and had been in the family for a long time. Did she really mean for me to have it?

I accepted the pan, thrilled to have a family heirloom.  I have used it for years and it is truly fantastic.  I think of my Bannie every time I pull that heavy pan out of the cabinet, and maybe that was her intent. I have also heard from a few relatives over the years that Bannie gave them an old cast iron skillet.  I heard they didn’t take it at the time and have heard they have the “family heirloom”, a skillet that belonged to a great aunt. I laugh to myself as I realize Bannie gave my skillet away 10 times over or more, and had more than one skillet to give,  but I am so glad to have it and the memories it brings, every time. 

Happy Birthday!

I am approaching a milestone birthday, turning 60 in just a few days.  I have spent the last couple weeks planning and reflecting and not posting on this blog.  I wanted to really be ready for the next decade of my life.  Being in my 60s.  Goodness.

I realize some of you are already there and may even think, c’mon, get on with it, but as I have explained in the past, I use my birthday for resolutions rather than New Year.  I take it as kind of a big deal.  More than a New Year, a birthday says a lot about you, so I think it is a better time to reflect and resolve.  I mean, everyone is having a New Year, but your birthday is you, right?

There you go.  Resolve.  Turning 60 to me is a resolution all it’s own.  Since there are different definitions of the verb resolve, I considered both.   Resolve 1.  Settle or find a solution to a problem, dispute or contentious matter.  Resolve 2. Decide firmly on a course of action.  

Anyway, I have a list of things to resolve, short list, but things are there and I have a list of things to resolve.  When making New Year’s resolutions, I think many of us leave out the first resolve ~ to settle or find a solution.  Some years, maybe we don’t have anything that would fall in to that category.  I won’t lie ~ I have a couple “contentious matters” to resolve, and I will.  

I want a clean slate going in to my sixties.  I don’t like contentious matters any more than the next guy but I also don’t like stewing.  I don’t want to stew, I don’t want you to stew, I don’t want it to stew.   Sometimes, contentious matters need to be left alone and forgotten and if that is best, I promise to myself that I will move on, I will resolve, instead of letting something get my goat or be stuck in my craw.  If it is a situation that needs personal attention, well, even though it might make me uncomfortable for the moment, I will resolve it.  

I resolve to look at situations with a more positive lens.  I know there are times when I am too negative, when I view my situations from the negative position.  I know when I am in it, I hear myself and I resolve to move out of that stance.  Going in to my sixties, I just don’t want to be there.  Have you ever met a bitter, cranky, negative, gloomy gus in their sixties? Yes, me, too and I will not be them.  I will not.
Hubs and I had a long talk the other evening, sitting on our swing, watching the lake go to sleep.  I said, without announcing it as a resolution, I want to take more pleasure, more joy out of each day.   Last year, I purchased a little crafty sign at a friend’s store that says, simply, “Take Joy”.  I resolve to take more joy out of life, more joy out of the day. This is a very personal goal for me, and it was somewhat difficult to speak about it to someone else, but saying things out loud, sharing them with someone you trust, is a good first step to resolution.  Once it is from your heart and has passed your lips, well, it is more real.  My big resolution as I turn 60 is to take joy.

Finally, along with taking joy, I resolve to give joy.  To make your day brighter if I can, to lighten your burden, to share with you our very good, very blessed life.  I will be more joyful for those I love, for those I know, for those I meet.  I will be a more joyful person for you. 

To settle a problem or two, to move out of the negative, to take joy and to give joy.  Happy 60 to me.  

These weekend days are full to overflowing.  With the great weather has come some real work in the yard and the inside of my house is showing a bit of neglect as we spend these last golden days outside. I try not to think about it as I know there are days ahead when staying inside is the only option. 

Feeling a little overwhelmed with the woods, I called my sister-in-law over to sit on the steps with me a bit and brainstorm my landscaping. She has spent more time in these woods than I and knows the history. I invited my neighbor over to sit on the steps and brainstorm a bit as she sees directly into our woods.  Both these ladies have completely different aesthetics than each other, as well as different than mine, and I wanted to hear their thoughts, ideas, answer questions, ask questions.

After walking the yard with my sister-in-law and discussing first goals, I transplanted a small Japanese Maple tree to an area to get more sun and I began planning an arbor using removed tree limbs and small trees.  I thinned out more maple saplings and fed the transplanted rhododendron starts.  Hubs has a plan for part of the area where the rhododendron had been so I began to think that over.  I started parking on this side of the house, to get a feel for making that change.

I looked at the woods and the yard with renewed vision and a slightly different mindset as the weekend drew to a close.  I've watched the sunlight move across these woods this morning and it is nothing short of spectacular.  This is already a haven, and I don't wish to overthink it or overwork it, but I will care for it, manage it and maybe concentrate a little less on transforming it too much.  Nature will take the lead, the sun will lend her voice and the woods will be the stage.   I’ll be more stage manager than stage mother!