My Retirement, Dress for Success

Two days of sun and I am doing OK

Looking Goooood?

While spending the evening with my son and his beautiful lady, Gina, Andy suggested that I write a blog about some of my fashion faux pas.  Now none of the following were deliberate, they were just accidents,  miscalculations or just out-of-body experiences.  I have always considered myself as a woman of good taste, but of course, that is my personal opinion.  I am sure the guy who parades naked in Times Square with only a guitar and hat thinks he is quite the style master also. Most of my blunders happened because I have spent a great deal of my life hurrying to get here and there.  Now that I am retired and life has slowed down, incidences like these should lessen.  However, if they continue, my children might think that it is time to investigate what home to put Mom into.  They do love my quirks though and like to have "my crazy mom stories".  So the following are my Lessons Learned..............
 Look before you Leap.

Shoes:  I think that no matter a woman's means, she has more shoes than she needs.  I have the theory that you should keep only as many as will fit in your racks or organizers.  My organizer fits 30 and that really should be enough for all seasons, all special affairs and all "I have no real use for them, but I want those shoes."   Many times when shopping, I will buy two pairs of the same kind but in different colors.  This can lead to awkward situations.  Three or four times I have gone to work wearing two different colors and one time a completely different style.   I was always in a rush when getting dressed, and sometimes did not spend any time really checking out what I was putting on my feet. Alas, on occasions I did not put my shoes away when I took them off but rather would kick them off under my bed.  As I sped to get out the door, I would grab the shoes with my feet and if the heels felt the same, off I went.  I did it so often that I no longer became embarrassed, it was just my fashion statement. 

Never lose your skirt:  I always liked to wear skirts and had a fondness for the wrap-around style. I liked the look, casual, sporty and feminine and they were fine to wear to most places. On my way into work one day and  my hands full of items and holding an umbrella, I walked to my car, not noticing that the wrap-around had unwrapped.  As I put all my stuff in the car, I felt a breeze go though my legs and noticed the bottom half of me was only clothed in a slip (remember them).  About 30 feet from me was my skirt laying in a large puddle of water.  There was no one in the immediate area right then so I swallowed hard and rushed back to retrieve half my outfit.   It was not dirty, just wet, but water dries, so no big thing. 

Watch out for Sales:  I never buy retail, everything always has to be on sale.  One time during my lunch hour and shopping at a mall, I found a sweater laying on low pyramid shelving.  I bent down to pick up an item and decided that  it was just what I was looking for as a present for my son and the sale made it more likable as it was half off.  I bought it quickly and then proceeded to walk around the shopping center for the next half hour.  When I arrived back at work, my boss gave me a funny look and said "you have something on your outfit."  I looked down and there on my right breast was a sign saying 50% off.   I had walked around a busy shopping center with this sign clearly stating that I or my breast was 50% off and nobody took me up on my offer.  I did not know whether to be embarrassed or insulted.  At that point in my life, some parts were still perky, but I still  had no takers.  Sad, sad, sad.

Eyebrows, Lips - what's the difference:  They sell lip liners and eyebrow liners, however, there should be some variance in their packaging.   As stated, I got dressed quickly before going to work and some areas of dress got less attention.  So yes, there was a time that I did put lipstick on my eyebrows which looked fine in the very early morning dimness, however, in the light of day, there was a definite difference.  I worked with very polite people and no one mentioned it to me.  When I got home that evening and looked in the mirror and saw the bright red brows, I wondered if anyone noticed.  The next day I casually mentioned it and yes, everyone had observed my new look. One very nice lady said that since my hair was reddish and she thought me fashionable, that perhaps it was a new trend. Another lady just nodded at me with a blank stare on her face,  and my boss said he thought I might be auditioning for a part in the latest Star Wars production.  I went with the first comment.

Hair Finishing:  Because my hair has never been thick and heavy, I believe in hair spray.  When I was young, Aqua Net was my best friend.  This spray could be used in a tornado; your house could blow away, but your hair style would stay in place.  Over the years I have graduated to better brands with more natural feeling substances.  Aerosol cans all look the same and once when getting ready to go out to dinner,  I just grabbed the large container closest to me off my vanity and sprayed.  Unfortunately, I had just cleaned my sink with Scrubbing Bubbles, which is the same size, has the same weight, and can easily be mistaken for something else.  As the white foam bubbles rose on my head and the tingling sensation was felt on my scalp, I realized it was not the look I was going for.  After washing it out quickly, I noticed that it did give my hair great body and people commented on how nice it looked that evening.  I might have discovered the "next big thing".

This blog is getting long and I could continue my adventures in stupidity, but I will leave it here.  Really though, most of us have done these things at one time, haven't we, really there are other people out there like me, aren't there?

My Retirement - B-Bye Oprah

The sun is out and I'm doing OK.

So long

You have to be living under a rock if you don't know that today is the last Oprah Winfrey Show.  When she first announced it about a year ago, women all over the country sighed; we could not imagine Oprah not being part of our day. As I  write this, I am thinking, this sounds so trivial, it is a TV show, how important could that be.  However, what Oprah did to empower people, to encourage us, to make us look at our potential, was unprecedented. 

When Oprah first started on TV,  I only worked 30 hours a week and was home in time to watch this show.  It was so different than the usual gab fests and I became a fan right away.   Over the years, because of schedules,  I seldom got to watch, but because a radio station picked it up, I was able to listen to it on my way home from work.  It was a nice cool down for me and most of the shows were very interesting.  There were many stories where I could relate or learn from or just be entertained. 

This woman, who came from a difficult childhood, believed in herself and thus encouraged so many people in the world to rise above their own burdens, to empower themselves to reach beyond and know their strengths.

So today at 4:00 PM, I am going to stop what I am doing, get out my box of tissues and sit down and watch Oprah's final broadcast.   I have to admit I love to cry at sad or inspirational stories and watching her today will be a meloncholy event.  She is going on to new exciting things, but what are we groopies to do now. 

The Cow's Serenade

It's always raining here, but doing OK

Neighborly Visit

Taken 2 years ago, he later became steak.

I woke up this morning to the sound of "moo" outside my bedroom window.  I live across the road from a field of cows who like to take strolls every once in a while.  There are about 20 or so in the herd and ordinarily I cannot see them because their pasture is hidden behind a woodsy area.  However, I have had some up-close and personal meet and greets with these sociable animals.  On occasions, they have gotten out of their fenced-in areas; sometimes the wind has blown down the gates or some naughty (mean) boys have cut the wires and let them out to roam.

One night while we were driving home late on our dark, winding road, we were confronted by a group of these cows just hanging out along the roadside. We had to put on the brakes fast to keep from hitting one. The circumstance of this possible accident would be difficult to explain to our insurance agent as hitting a deer is one thing, hitting a cow, not so common.  The owner of the farm was not at home so we called 911 and police were sent out to round them up.  I am sure it was not a part of their job description, but what were we to do, there aren't any local cowboys. We retreated to our home and from our deck we watched as cars drove down the road, horns went off, cows mooed loudly and chaos ensued - all this at about 11 PM. 

A few years ago our family was relaxing in the backyard while our young grandchildren  were playing in a blow-up pool.  All of a sudden, out of the woods came four or five bovine who were quickly heading our way, possibly to have a drink out of the pool.  The brave men-folk shooed them away, but we all decided to sit up on our high deck for the rest of the day.  Over the years they have come by to nibble on our decorative cabbages in the front gardens, taken down our Christmas lights, or just strolled around our neighborhood leaving some good size piles of fertilizer behind.

Last year a group of them stampeded through our backyard pulling up much of hubby's prized lawn, leaving it look like a war zone.  It had been raining and the ground was soft and mushy and every step they made brought with it deep crevices. My husband was devastated at the sight of his perfect grass torn up and went out to do a CSI investigation. By their footprints, he determined it was 6 adult cows with a smaller calf accompanying them.  I did question his observation, but he was happy with his masterful analysis and what did it matter anyway.  Next day, he raked and reseeded the area and a few weeks later the grass came back to it former splendor.

Today, when I heard the mooing, I jumped out of bed and ran outside like a mad woman in my nightclothes looking for the errant cows.  I was a Mary Poppins look-alike, armed with an umbrella hoping to cut the vandals off at the pass and scoot them away from my house.  With the deluge of rain we have been having the past months, the yard is like a marshland and even if it was just one cow, quite a bit of damage could be done.  I'd like to say that I saved the day, but they were not in my yard, but rather up the road by their farmhouse.  It would have been nice to have been the hero, especially since I made such a spectacle of myself.   However, I live in a neighborhood where no one is ever home and if they are, most never stick their heads out the door.  I think I still have some of my dignity, my yard is intact and the cows found their way home.  All is good.

My Retirement - The End of the World, No Big Deal

Time is getting shorter, but doing OK

Nuttiness, and why does the media love it.

According to some group, next Saturday is supposed to be the end of the world.  I am wondering if I should pay my bills or maybe just go to Cinnebon and eat every sticky bun they have just baked.  I have a family wedding that day, maybe I should write them and suggest that they take their honeymoon "this" week.  If there are only days left, what decadent thing should I embark upon because this may be my last chance.

Now I believe there is the possibility that human kind can call the shots on this and blow the world up.  What and who would be left;  probably just roaches, stink bugs and hedge-fund big-wigs.  There is so much money to be made on doom and gloom.

Every now and then we have these crazies out there with their predictions of annihilation for us all and they seem to be in their glory this year, or maybe it will happen next year and if that does not come about, well, they'll  have another date.

Me, I am going to pay my electric bill tomorrow and am planning on a good blooming season and a fun summer.  I also might eat a calorie-laden Cinnabon anyway, followed by some fine, fine wine.   Yum, life is good, especially if you ignore the naysayers and enjoy a scoopful of some sweet gooey substance with icing on top.

My Retirement - A River Runs Through It

I used to Fly Fish and did OK

My mid-life crisis as I remember it.

As I reached mid-life,  I felt a need to escape the rat race that I thought was taking over every waking moment of my life. A hobby that would take me out of my element and relieve stress was what I needed. My oldest two children were in college or finished and about to start their own lives but I was still raising two teenagers.  My days were about working, continuing my education and being responsible for the happiness and well-being of everyone in my life, whether they wanted it or not. I felt I was running as fast as I could but was never catching up.  I needed to find a place for myself, a place where I could find me (such a 90's thing). So what did the woman who was raised in Bronx, NY do, I took up fly fishing.  I had read a book, A River Runs Through It, and also saw the movie and thought, yep, that's for me.  I figured there would be no Brad Pitt character in my adventure, but the beauty of the sport and the artistry of the reel and line captured my imagination.  I went out and got all the equipment, which included a medium-priced rod and reel, waders, obligatory vest and tackle and I was all set to start on this new path to relaxation.  Fly fishing does not involve any slimy bait but rather crafted flies that are to resemble some kind of bug.  No muss, no fuss.  With the help of a manual, I practiced and practiced throwing out the line in my backyard until I was convinced that I had this baby down really well. I also took a trip to Vermont to attend a beginner's fly fishing school.  I now was ready to set off to find a watering hole and seize the day.  I drove around to the local creek beds until I found this lovely spot that was designated for "fly fishing only".  It was by this old covered bridge and was like a scene out of a movie - just what I was looking for.  Here I fished for about six years, going three to four days a week after work and sometimes on the weekends.  In all those years, I might have caught maybe twenty fish, but I could throw a nice line that would twirl and twirl until it would lay softly on the water.  That was quite a feat for me as I am sports handicapped.  I always looked forward to going to "my place" to enjoy not only the fishing, but also the magnificent landscape with all its birds and wildflowers.  It was my little heaven.   I have such good memories of those days, of the serenity, of the peace and just having a place for myself to think and dream.

When we moved to our new home about nine years ago, we actually were closer to my fishing hole, but there was so much to do around the house and my gardens became my new passion.  I did go fishing a few times when my son would invite me and hubby to accompany him on the first day of trout season at a stream near his home.  The first year I caught four or five fish, but also caught my waders on the thorns in the weeds surrounding the creek.  There were quite a few rips and was lucky that the water was slow and shallow and did not seep in and fill up my pants.  It is hard to walk with a river in your britches.  I also took a lot of flack from the men-folk  because I would scream with glee when a fish caught my line.  The second year we went, (with my waders glued up), it was a cold morning and it had rained quite a bit the day before.  You could see your breath in the air and the water was murky and running really fast.  Hubby, son and friend all fished with spinning reels so I walked a little downstream to a fly fishing area.  Because of the weather, I was wearing four layers of clothing, and was feeling quite comfortable.  Unfortunately, the rocks underneath were very slimy and slippery and as I said, the water was running fast.  We had gotten there early and were standing quietly in the water for at least fifteen minutes waiting for the 7 am start.  It was not crowded, as a matter of fact, there was only the four of us that I could see in our area.  One minute before kick-off time, I moved a little and slipped on some rocks and into the water I went.  I could not get my footing and with all the clothing I had on and the wader filling up,  I felt the rapid waters take me.  I was not going to let go of my new rod and fought to get up.  I was able to grab hold of some tree branches and saved myself from drowning and ruining the whole day for everyone.  My fishing mates, being further upstream, did not notice any of this action or hear the loud splash and went about their casting.  Our of breath and soaked to the skin, I needed some help but nobody heard me.  After a few minutes, my son's friend noticed me clinging to a side of a tree and calmly said "Your mother fell in".  They all came to my rescue and got me out of the water.  Andy gave me his jacket and made sure I was OK and asked what I wanted to do.  I did not want to wreck their day of fishing and said I would be fine and they could continue fishing, but the chattering of my teeth and the look of coming close to death on my face told them it was time to leave.  Besides, the splash I made in the water put an end to any fish biting for at least a few hours.  My son never asked me to go with him again because possibly the thought of his mother floating downstream was not a good image he wanted in his head.

Last month I went around taking pictures of the four covered bridges in our area and walked close to the place that I had spent so many hours standing and throwing my line out.  Nothing had changed, there were very few people around and the memories came flooding back.  I don't think I could make it up and down the banks like I used to, I probably cannot throw my line like before, and I don't think I have the patience or attention span to keep it up for more than 15 minutes now, but there is that serenity that I still search for, the wildflowers and the large birds that I loved to watch and I think, maybe, I should try again.

My Retirement - A Mother's Love

Been there, done that and doing OK.

Mommy Dearest

I am the mother of 4 adult children.  Today is Mother's Day and I want to say that I could not be prouder of the children I have raised.

My son Andy is my Pride.  He is the first born and the only son I have.  He has always been the most driven and because of his birth order in the family, he may have had the largest burden.  However, that is life and fortunately or unfortunately, that is his role.  The first born is your experiment and your practice child.  They are also the ones who you put all your hopes and dreams into and more is expected.  A few weeks after he was born my husband was transferred to a small town in Michigan called Bad Axe.  It was four blocks long, not exactly a hubbub of activity, and the three of us lived in a motel apartment for 18 months.  We knew very few people and had no interaction with others with babies.  We were on our own and every minute of my day revolved around me and my son. I had such great plans for him, he was my life.   At four months old as he would  love to grab at newspapers. We would lay the paper on the floor and as he would reach for it, we would slide it a few inches away so he would push himself to crawl to get it. How Tiger Motherish that sounds, ugh.   That child crawled at five months, stood at six months and walked at seven and a half months.  We thought this was normal.   I wanted to get him a piano on his first birthday so he could play at Carnegie Hall or the Met when he was five. Yes, we were a little bit obsessive.  Despite all our mistakes, my son has lived up to his role and is successful, however, more than that, he is a good man and a marvelous father.   I never got him the piano, he never played at the Met, but he and his son can play a mean game of Guitar Hero. I also love that they both like to sing and I believe that people who are melodious, have something special in their hearts.  He is my success #1.

Heather, my second born, is my Heart.  When she came into my life I had some experience under my belt, was much more realistic, and she was a very easy child.  She always wanted to please and I can think of very few times in her childhood when she gave me any problems.  Being my first daughter, I wanted things for her that were not available for girls of my generation.  Women's role in the 70's was changing and opportunities were now opening up.  Young girls could now have dreams and were not relegated to only certain jobs and careers.  She was never going to know about limits, about what girls could not do, only about what she wanted to do.  I encouraged her to think for herself and be the best she could be.  She did this and more. Heather' s heart is so big, her thoughts so idealistic and her kindness has no bounds.  She has a career she loves and young daughters who also appear to be free-thinkers. Her first child is only 6, but I see a future president of something there.  Success story #2

Third child Molly is my Smile.  This lovely person has made me laugh from the time she was born.  Sometimes she didn't mean to do this, it just came natural. At times, she had a problem being tactful but that always led to a good story and lots of giggling afterwards.   She was also a pleaser and so easy to get along with.  Like her brother and sister , she was a good athlete and because of that was able to travel overseas performing in gymnastic events.  My expression to her was "Yes, you can",  and she did.  People have always loved her and enjoy being around her and just as much as she is my daughter, she is my friend.  I beam with pride when I tell people I am her mother.  Molls has three beautiful, talented girls who look like her and are also a delight to be around.  They seem to have inherited so many of her traits and that makes me smile.  Success story #3. 

Last child is Sarah; she is my Adventure.  She was born 11 years after my first and four years after my third.  She was a gift.  When they handed me this beautiful child, she smiled. OK, I know it was probably gas, but I will always remember that look on her face.  When she came along, I was getting tired and not so idealistic anymore.  At this point in my life, I just wanted some quiet.  Her birth order dictated that what she wanted, she usually got.  Being the baby is a good position to be in.  Sarah has grown up to be a lovely woman and I so enjoy her company.  Her father dotes on her and she in kind to him.  She has that special something and brings so much joy to our family.  I am so proud of the person she has become and am so glad that I had that "one more" child.  Success story #4.

On this day, I want to thank my children for making my life so wonderful and fulfilling all my dreams of being a mother to such exceptional people.

The Inspector

Repeating myself with an oldie today, but my life got busy and I am doing OK.

Looking for Perfection

Hubby has worked most of his life in Quality Control.  This is perfect for a person with borderline OCD.  Was he born this way?  Possibly, since he is the oldest and as we have all read in countless articles on the Internet, first borns are the most driven. I was second born and am more in the slower lane, although my family may have something else to say about that. I guess I have my own crazies, but that is another subject.

Hubby looks for mistakes, searches for imperfections and finds satisfaction in any flaw he finds. You say that is a negative trait, no, no, he will tell you.  It is necessary and the world and I am better off knowing what is wrong so these things can be corrected and then we will all live a more satisfying life. 

The question always arises in our family as what to get as a present for H.  Give him a sweater or shirt, he will look for the loose thread.  Any item you present to him, he will closely inspect, turning it over a few times and if he has not found any failings, he will smile and everyone will rejoice. 

Now that spring has arrived, he has accompanied me on my walk-abouts in the neighborhood.  We cannot go past two or three homes without his commenting on the state of someone's lawn.  Dandelions and flowering weeds are not permissible in his eyes.  However, now that most of the offending plants have gone away due to lawnmowers, he is having a more relaxed walk and I, a more pleasant one. 

As much as all of this drives me up a wall, I do see some merit in his quest for excellence.  Heck, we have lawyers out there raking in millions for mistakes people and companies make. None of us wants to be a victim of errors in judgement or product failure.  However, no one and no thing is infallible.  Living with inadequacies is a good thing, it helps put things in perspective.  Mistakes are made because we are human and we all learn more from these than our accomplishments. It is about realizing not everything is important, letting things go and smiling and laughing at our failings.

I must say though because hubby is hubby, my family has lived a good life. I do like that I can count on him to fix things, to have remedies for problems and because of his piccadillos, I always have a good story.

My Retirement - Losing a Friend

Grieving, but doing OK

Martian



Being free and having fun

 Sixteen years ago my daughter Molly decided she wanted to move out, get an apartment and live with some friends.  Three months later she was back with her bags and a little surprise in her pocket.  Inside was this little ball of black fur with a white diamond spot on his chest and 4 white booties. His face was shaped similar to an alien so his name became Martian. He also had a broken tail that must have happened at birth, but it made him distinctive.  Like most kittens, he was adorable and hard to resist. We already had this experience when my son Andy had come back from college four years earlier with the same type of gift for us.  We gave great thought about accepting these presents, but hubby fell in love each time and so did I, so we adopted these two wonderful guys.

Casey was your typical short-hair, fat, lap cat who always wanted to be around you.  Martian was more aloof and we figured he might have some feral blood in him. Although he was very loving and playful,  he always sat at arms length away from you so that if you wanted to pet him, you had to bend or stretch.  This independent attitude made us appreciate and love him even more. Casey and Martian were great friends and often slept with their arms around each other with Casey taking the alpha role and Martian his devoted companion. Unfortunately, we lost  Casey 6 years ago to cancer and Martian seemed lost without him.  We did get him some other playmates but that did not work out as the newbees were sisters and wanted nothing to do with him and often pushed him to the wall when attention or food was handed out.  He was a wuss and allowed them to disrespect him.  However, he was smarter than those two bullies put together.

I will not bore you with cat stories, but let me say that this beautiful, sweet guy was there for me on many occasions. I suffer from terrible leg cramps at night and when I was in pain and screaming from them, he would scratch at the door to get to me.  If I was sad and crying, he would sit beside me. When I have fallen, he would come running to watch over me. He had so many dog-like personality traits and despite his small size, he had a big heart.

Today we lost our Marchie.  He had been losing weight for the past few months and we thought it had to do with his hypothyroid disease, but it was cancer.  Every day we saw more of him waste away and we did everything we could to prolong his life, just as much for us as for him.  Last night things became very bad and today hubby, who heart was breaking, took him for his last ride to the vet. 



Martian in Old Man's Chair



Those of you who are blessed with a pet will understand my grief, those who are not animal people will not.  Then there is that anti-cat bias.  So many people who are dog people find cats useless and not as important or as fun as dogs.  I was one of those people as I was raised in a house with many dogs and had no real feeling towards "the other house pet."  Then Casey and Martian entered my life. Most animals will bring you companionship and will wrap themselves around your heart and you are the better for it.  My life was so enriched with this little guy.

Martian was very special, smart, and a great pet.  I will miss him so

My beautiful friend

My Retirement - Disney, the Mother Killer

Went to movies, it sucked, but doing OK

Disturbia

http://youtu.be/nLvX-erABqY - Click on to see Bambi promo.

Seeing Bambi in the early 50's traumatized me for life.  The movie came out in 1942 which was before I was born so I must have seen a re-release. Within 15 minutes of the film's start, the young fawn loses his mother in a forest fire. The scene of the fire and Bambi looking desperately  for his mother was very disturbing to me as a young child, especially since I had a mother who was not always well. After seeing this film, I lived in fear of losing my mom and anticipated the worst.  Disney also gave us Cinderella (girl with a dead mother) Snow White (girl with a dead mother and stepmother who wanted to kill her) Hansel and Gretel (dead mother and witch that wants to cook and eat the children) and more recently, a terrific movie they did with Pixar, Finding Nemo (mother, brothers and sisters dead).  I won't even get into old films like Pinocchio, Dumbo and Sleeping Beauty, which were very sad tales surrounded by blue birds and cute songs and were accepted children's theater.  I have to admit though, while growing up I used to love watching Disney Presents and lived for Wednesday at 7 PM to see the latest installment of stories like Davy Crockett, his life and "Death" We certainly were not protected from the sad facts of life like today's children, however these tales were not light entertainment and I think I am not the only one who had many sleepless nights over them..

Last Friday, Earth Day, we went to see the newest Disney "fun" film, "African Cats". I had seen Oceans last year and really enjoyed it.  There was also the added factor that $1.00 of my ticket price was going to an animal charity and that is always good. The coming attractions were beautiful, showing only love and family and  inspirational  music; the actual story was something different. It was like Bambi on steroids.  Five minutes into it, I decided I could not watch it any longer.  I could not walk out as I was with other people and they seemed engrossed with it.   I decided to close my eyes or look sideways and not at the screen.  However, Samuel L Jackson, as narrator, was telling the sappiest story ever and I'm not deaf enough yet not to hear it especially with digital  surround sound or whatever they call it.   Much of the music was a lone cello playing, the saddest sound there is.  Funeral dirge comes to mind.  Film story:  cute cubs frolicking with their mothers and siblings among a breathtaking scenery, always followed by some animal trying to kill them.  Samuel would say in this singsong voice "they got away - this time". You know, of course, what that means. I am not going to give away the entire movie just in case you like this type of horror, but let me say that line was repeated quite a few times throughout the movie. There is much violence, death, abandonment, tearing apart of flesh, and lots of other distressing events.  The little boy down the isle from me started out in his own seat but as time went by, he was in his parent's lap clinging to his father.

 Now, I know this is life as it is, but it did not make me feel good and I was not entertained.  The storyline was fake and maudlin, it showed males in a bad light, and other than the beautiful landscape and magnificent animals,  it was not my cup of tea. I spent two hours in a very tense position and when it was done I could not wait to leave the theater.  The good thing was that I did not take my grandchildren and give them nightmares.  Hubby and my friends loved it, so, again it is a matter of taste.  It was upsetting to me and I really needed some fine wine after that one. I do wish though that there were more vegetarian species in this world than carnivores

Right now I am remembering "Old Yeller, another heartbreaking animal movie from my time as a child..  There is an old rumor that when Walt Disney died he was frozen, hoping to come back.  With as many mothers as he and his followers have killed  off, maybe it is time to defrost.

My Retirement, Easter

Running around like a rabbit, but doing OK

Hiding about 70 eggs in the very wet, swampy yard for my grandchildren, cooking dinner for 15, cleaning up knowing it will be messed up quickly, but enjoying it all because I am surrounded by  people who love me and life is good.

Hope everyone is having a good holiday with those they love.

My Retirement - The Easter Bunny, And The Horror Of It All

April Showers but doing OK

Creepy Rabbit



Children holding on to parents for dear life in background



When my children were young we took them to a local park for the annual Easter egg hunt.  This is an old town where years ago most of the residents were farmers or blue-collar workers.  When it came to holidays like Memorial Day, Halloween, and Easter, there were parades and celebrations.  No matter what the economic climate was, the festivities went on, prizes were given out and the town came together.  The demographics have changed as progress (?) has come to this area via new roads and with that, more people and businesses.  Many of the farmers have sold off their land and probably retired wealthy to Florida. However, the majority of the people who have lived here for generations have remained and the celebrations still go on.

In the 35 or so years since I have been going to this local Easter egg hunt, first with my children and now my grandchildren, there has been this frightening creature walking around trying to get children to come over to it by offering the little ones a piece of candy, and colored egg or a coupon to a local ice cream establishment.  Parents try to pose their babies with E/B so they can get a picture, but most kids resist and cry.  Still the parents insist because having a photo with the scary rabbit is traditional and one they want to put besides the picture that their parent's took of them a generation ago while they screamed and cried.

There must be quite a turnover for this job as I doubt that any one person could take that much rejection. By the size of the costume, I figure it is probably a 12 to15 year old inside trying his or her best to entertain the crowd. However, it is the same every year, children hate the bunny.  It looks like something out of a horror film, as in Frank from Donnie Darko. The reaction on the kids face is similar to mine when I first saw Psycho.  The costume has deteriorated over the years and I wonder what it smells like inside the very old paper mache` mask.  I don't think anyone is paid to do this job and it is just for fun - and maybe it is a teenager who was traumatized as a child and wants to get even.  Revenge of the Rabbit is possible.



Not a big turnout this year(this was only the 8/9 yr old group) as it was about to pour rain, as usual.







My Retirement - Waiting to Sneeze

Stocking up on tissues, but doing OK

Achoo

I woke up this morning to the  news of the dreaded "allergy season".  I have spent the better part of the last 40 years blowing my nose.  I am allergic to the heat, the air conditioning, the spring pollen and the fall ragweed.  Cats also contribute to my very red nose and we have three in our family.  Hubby dotes on them and they calm the beast in him.  His life is better with the cats and therefore so is mine.   

Over the years I have taken most of the over-the-counter drugs along with prescription medicine and that has helped some times, mostly though the allergies have won out and sneezing and coughing are just part of my persona now.  I go nowhere without a packet of Kleenex.  There are always tissues stuck up the sleeve of my sweater (a habit of women over 50). I wear only clothes with pockets to store my always needed accessory.  I had an operation a few years ago to clean out my sinuses and I was almost allergy-free for awhile.  My voice went up 5 octaves and people did not recognize me on the phone. However, within the year, my new found higher tone returned to what sounded like Lauren Bacal after 70 years of smoking.  I have never smoked but my dad did and I wonder if that had any bearing on me and all my siblings having asthma or chronic sinus problems. 

Last year I got a terrible cough that after many visits to doctors and 7 months of trying to catch my breath, finally went away.  When people heard me coming toward them,  they made a wide berth around me.  I kept saying  "it's allergies, it's allergies, but most people acted like I might have the black plague.  It is finally gone and I have been breathing almost normally (for me), and now I go into spring feeling better than I have in a long time.  I am praying for a not-too-hot summer so we won't have 24 hour air conditioning like last year which can cause some of my misery.  Most of the trees are in bloom and the others should all be out within the week.  I am not going to listen to the pollen report and maybe not knowing how bad it is will make my body not give in.  I am going with that thought.  Ignorance is bliss.
   

My Retirement, Hot Damn, It Is Blooming Time

Oh, my aching back, but doing OK

My Obsession

I so look forward to this season and all the joy and hope it brings.  I am a planter, a gardener and the beauty of the flowers and greenery are orgasmic to me.  As a woman and mother, the birth of anything comes from my soul and defines me.  However, when it comes to gardening,  I am over the top and admit it.  I want to cut down and be reasonable, but when I see a new plant, my heart beats a little more and all objectivity goes out the window.  Every year I tell myself and family that I will do less, but it never happens.  I find a new species, a new color and even though I have exhausted every pot I have and planted in every garden we have cut out, I walk around my yard with that one extra plant in my hand searching for a little bit more room for which to put that "needed" flower.

Being home this winter has been somewhat difficult for me.  Days could be dark and long and sometimes it did not seem possible to escape the dreariness that the season could bring.  However, I did not let it overcome me and although there have been some down times, I knew to look forward and try to be optimistic about what life had for me. Spring is now popping out all over and my time has come, but what will I do.  Cleaning out my gardens (which is the most laborious part) did a job on my back.  Yikes, the ground seems so much lower and getting up again seems like climbing a mountain.  I am not as agile as I use to be. However, my infirmities may be a cure for my over-zealousness.  It could be a blessing. We will see. 

Some of the local garden nurseries have opened, but they have mostly spring flowers now that will only bloom for a few weeks.  I know better than to invest too much money into those, although I will buy a few to put here and there to lift my spirits.  The true test for me will be when the summer annuals come in the first week of May.  I will breathe heavier, have a few heart palpitations and hopefully this year also have some common sense.  Less is more, less is more, less is more - Maybe

It could be worse, I could be a cat hoarder.

My Retirement - Fashionista

Warming up and doing OK

Style is my middle name.

How long do you keep clothes?  Do you still have outfits that you have only worn once or twice that you save because you might have other events where you could possibly wear them again, but you never will?  One problem is that they may no longer be the right size.  They have shrunken in the closet. Possibly this happened due to the darkness or lack of moisture, I'm not sure, but we still do not want to part with them.   I hear ya.

Trolling through my closet, trying to sort out what I am going to give to Goodwill, I came upon quite a few of these lovely garments that I once had to have.  Some are easy to pass on to a charity, but others I look at and have a certain level of anxiety about giving away.  I am not talking about recent items I have bought, I am speaking of "vintage".  I have gotten rid of most of those "wedding/special events outfits", but a few remain.  There is no legitimate reason for this, I will never wear them again, but I look at them with a certain longing.  I once felt good in these; they were a size I starved myself to get into, or it was for a very special occasion that I am nostalgic about.   Then there is the thought that I keep holding onto, that I will wear them again someday, even though I know they are no longer age and body appropriate. Time might have stood still in my closet, but time has not been as kind to me.  I think I might be at the point in my life where I should just consider wearing boxy outfits that are black with big flowers.

I am not a hoarder, just a sentimental old woman.  I will confess that I still have my going-away dress from my wedding almost 44 years ago, another dress that I wore on my honeymoon (and only one more time afterwards), and a really cool dress I wore to a New Years Eve's party in 1970.  I do not have my wedding dress; that was in the attic of our home that we moved from 10 years ago and hubby said that after being in that crawl space for an hour trying to find it, he gave up looking   This was definitely a one-occasion dress though, and once is enough for that.  It was possibly eaten by the four-legged critters that we would hear running around up there for years.

Hanging on to clothes is not only a woman's thing, as hubby has a bright-red ice fishing jacket that he has not worn in over fifty years still hanging in the wardrobe in our basement.  Add to this, his Air-Force outfit (got out of the service in '67), and countless shirts and ties that have laid untouched for years.

My daughters have been the recipients of some of my "fancy" clothes. They have worn them as costumes for "Back to the 80's" parties they have given.  I have not taken offense as I am sure they were celebrating my good taste even though the word costume does denote something funny. Let me just say that one was a long, gold lame` Cleopatra-type outfit with a split all the way up the side of the leg and the other was a floor-length purple, 100% polyester number with floppy sleeves. Oh, what a fashionista I was!  Today, I could not get one leg or one boob in either of them. Again, as I stated, the darkness or moisture of the closet shrunk them.

Now I have granddaughters and I took out that 70's New Year's Eve very short dress to show them what the styles were many years ago. The tag inside this dress says "Wendy of London", and because of the Beatles and the fashion they inspired, we were very into anything British during those times and I had to have it.  It probably cost all of $50, but that was a lot of money back then. It is gold threaded on a snake-skin pattern silk material with buttons down one sleeve.  I still think it is kind of neat and I will have to put it in my will for one of my three daughter - so they can keep it in their closet for 40 or so years.

I wonder why I threw away that red polka-dot hot pants outfit that I actually wore to a wedding.  They just don't make clothes like that anymore.

 Memories, from the corner of my mind, misty water colored memories, from the way we were.

My Retirement - Being a Critic

Loving to laugh and doing OK

I love the movies.  Since I was about 8 years old, I have had an affair with the cinema. When I was young and nobody worried that you would be stolen or molested, my mother let me walk to the movies with my friend Peggy and sometimes my brother to see the Saturday matinees. The Wakefield theater may have been a mile or so away and P.S. we lived in Bronx, NY, but that was many years ago and who knew anything; there was no Internet of fear. Every week we were there with our $.35 for the show and $.12 for candy.  I always choose to eat Juju Bees because that would get you through at least one of the movies as they stuck to the teeth and it would take hours for the flavor to disintegrate.  I say one of movies, because the $.35 included an "A" listed color musical and a "B" listed (usual) gangster black and white flick.  Also included was a race (as in horse or car) serial where you had a chance to bet on a horse or car race and then some cliff-hanger serial which insured you would be back the next week with your $.47.  There were at least 2 or 3 cartoons included in the package also.  It was a great babysitter for Mom and my life was good. These weekly visits made me love everything about film and good stories. The 50's seem like an easier time (for some).

There are very few good stories for me now, even though I still love the movies. (enthralled by "The King's Speech."). Quite a few years ago I became a fan of the independent film industry because they usually make films that have real, well-written stories. However, sometimes Hollywood still comes up with a winner.  Two of my favorite movies of all times are The Color Purple and Out of Africa.  In OOA, the main characters talk about the story, and how important it is to the soul to hear a well-told tale.  It has been going on forever, from the cave drawings to Egyptian hieroglyphics to today.  The imagination is always captured in the story.  All those special effects, surreal sequences, dream within a dream and down and dirty crap cannot take it's place.  It is about the storyteller and their imagination. I grew up when times were different and not only did you share rooms with siblings but you shared beds.  Every night my sister Sue, who was so smart and imaginative, would tell me a story that she would make up on the spot. I could not go to sleep until she finished her bedtime tale.  I have been in love with "the story" ever since.

So now I am going to critique a recent movie.  All the critics have panned this latest remake, however, I really liked it.  I usually am with the press on movies and tend to go or not go to the theater based on their reviews.  However, I liked this movie and they did not.  It is called "Arthur" and stars Russell Brand and Helen Mirren.  I have no idea who else was in this movie because my eyes were focused  upon these "two actors". Now Helen Mirren  can do no wrong, that is accepted.  She is great even if she just sits there and spits.  Russell Brand is new and I just love him.  He is the Steve Martin of 30 years ago.  He is naturally funny and makes me laugh all the time. Thinking about it now though, it was the scenes with only those two actors that were the best. They did not need anybody else. The movie is close to the original which stared Dudley Moore and Liza Minnelli.  Seeing Russell Brand on TV lately plugging this movie and seeing him unscripted, I have to wonder if in the movie he is saying the written lines or just did what is natural to him.  No matter, he had me within ten minutes.  I actually did not like the original, thought it inane and not believable.  However, the new Arthur, while still being inane and not believable, had a warmth that I found lovable and soft.  The critics liked the first half but found the second part boring or whatever.  I found it kind and sweet and even though unbelievable, touched me. 

So that is what I think.  I just love a good laugh and although this is not fall on your face, double over in laughter flick, it is a fun movie that will make you smile and forget your troubles for at least the 110 minutes.  Everyone has different tastes, I am almost surprised that I like this, but then it has been a long winter and I need to laugh and escape.

My Retirement - Skunked

"Thinking"  about making more decisions and doing OK

Hair Raising!

Recently I was speaking by phone to a good friend who I have not seen in awhile.  She has been through quite a bit in the past few years but always has a positive, sunny disposition.  She does not let things get her down and is always a delight to be around (I am so poetic).  She told me something that surprised me though and I was not sure how to react.  She let her hair go natural which is (horrors of horrors) grey.  She told me she was tired of dying her hair only to have a white stripe from the roots down the middle of her head a few weeks later.  Bravo to her, what an independent, free thinker she is, but how do you do that?  Do you let the white grow out till you are half and half?  She sent me a picture of her on a cruise and she looked absolutely beautiful.  She was cute, classy and had a stunning Farrah Faucet look going. Grey can be cool!

I remember when my Mom decided to quit the bottle (color, that is) and told us she was going back to her natural shade, which at age 70 was grey/white.  I became despondent and tried to talk her out of doing that as seeing my beloved mother looking her age was a sign to me of her mortality.  Although she had many health problems, she was such a vital, funny lady whose spirit was forever-young.  I kept trying to talk her into a temporary light-brown rinse, but she did not want my advice and was comfortable with her decision. I found that the white hair did not strip her of her joie de vivre and she lived to the ripe old age of 85 and she was beautiful.

So now I'm thinking, maybe it is time for a new look for me.  I have been a redhead since I turned 18, which is a lifetime ago.  There have been many incarnations of this red - dark, medium, light, streaked, faded, bright, dull and now, like my friend expressed, skunked.  Colors that I have used for years are not taking well to my new texture (old hair) and I seem to have a pink glow about me and then three weeks later, the white stripe is visible.  For a few years I went to a hairdresser for coloring but when the bill became $200 (with tip), I could not justify it anymore.  I also don't like sitting around in a salon for hours and then lying to the hairdresser and saying I love it when I can't wait to run out to my car and comb out the "do" they gave me.  I have to admit though that I was usually pleased with the color, so maybe I can find a less expensive salon and bite the bullet and pay a professional.  I'm thinking of going blond or doing highlights as that blends better with the roots. Besides, I am thinking red may not be age appropriate for me anymore.  I can't do the natural look though, because although my friend looked like a glamorous movie star, I would look more like the late Estelle Getty from the Golden Girls.  My mind is not ready for that.

 

My Retirement - All Creatures, Great and Small

Making it through the fake spring and doing OK.


Birding

April Fool's Joke

To start with, I do like birds.  They are usually one of the first signs of spring and I welcome them with open arms.  However, I am not over the top about them like my hubby. I am more into mammal-like creatures and although love to see birds and give them all my leftover bread and crackers, I am not obsessed with them.  Hubby is.  I think it began  as he entered his 50's.  At that time we had been blessed with cats inherited from our children.  The kids had either moved out for a short while or were in college and felt the need to adopt cats and then bring them home to us.  Of course, within the year our children left our home but their pets did not.  We became parents all over again, this time to four-legged ones.  In order to amuse the cats, hubby put a bird feeder in a tree right out the front window.  The two left-in-our-care cats would meow and make strange noises all day long while watching all the birds feed.  We actually had a bird who would see his shadow in our window and make love to his reflection for hours at a time.  The cats were in fantasy heaven.  Hubby made sure he filled up that bird feeder twice a  day in order to amuse his feline buddies. This was the beginning of his obsession.

When all of our children were on their own, we decided to buy a larger house (makes sense, doesn't it) with more land to take care of and cultivate.   We moved to what was a farming community and more open space.  The first thing hubby did was install a few bird feeders.  As the years went by, the number of bird feeders increased. This was helped by our children and grandchildren who thought hubby needed more and more bird feeders to keep him busy.  He loved it and so did most of the Mid-Atlantic states' bird population.  If anybody can remember the movie The Birds, the Alfred Hitchcock thriller, they can imagine my yard, especially in spring.  It is a sea of birds.  I am not complaining as I love to see all the species that come and feed at our 20 or so feeders, but the bill for bird food now exceeds the cat food and dare I say, our wine bill.  Some birds that normally fly south in the winter never leave.  We have beautiful Robins most of the year and Cardinals all of the year.  Our kids also give us bird books (what do you give old people) so we can investigate all the species that feed and crap in our yard.  Again, I am not complaining, except when they destroy my flower planters that I have hanging in the trees. Of course, the trees are for the birds, and I respect their habitat, I just wish they would tilt their tail feathers in the other direction of my hanging gardens. I have now accepted that the majority of these flowers must be white so the bird droppings will blend in.

Weekend mornings and every night hubby fills three large buckets of different types of bird food and goes out to feed the starving birds of America.  I can tell you, he alone may have saved the planet from the extinction of some species. I look out the window and see him trudging around the back yard and woods in snow, rain, heat, and cold carrying what looks like very heavy buckets and I shake my head. Surely, the birds can make it for a day or two without him going out and risking his health in inclement weather.  But no, he is a man on a mission, and he is sure the birds count on him, only him.  He, though, is very particular about what types of birds eat out of each feeder.  Only finches are to eat out of the finch feeder, but doves seem to like that perch also. This is upsetting to him as he thinks the doves should know better.  I won't even mention the havoc that goes on when racoons and sqirrells swing from the newly filled feeders.  Nature has their way though and their rules are different than ours.  

Again, I do love all creatures of this earth (except stink bugs, but that is another blog), cats, dogs, antelope (never saw one, but am sure I would love them), deer and giraffes - all species - and I do look forward to the migration of the birds. When I see all the bright red cardinals flying around my woods, and the finches when they turn yellow, I sigh, and say thank you hubby for bringing such beauty to my little corner of the world. 

My Retirement - Looking for some Gardening Help

Planning my gardens and doing OK

About three years ago my children gifted me with a flagstone patio.  I had wanted one for a while but was not sure how we could do it or if I really needed one as I already have a very nice deck.  One day, when they expected me to be at work but in reality I had taken a vacation day, two of my daughters and son-in-law came over with tools, a truck full of flagstone and all the equipment and supplies that it would take to install a patio. I was so oblivious as to what they were doing that I had not even noticed the truck and Bobcat going down the side of my yard. My first thought was that they were going to install a rain barrel to collect water, something that I had asked for as a birthday gift.  I did not look out my back windows to see what was happening and told them I would leave and go shopping so that they could complete their surprise.   I called hubby and met him for a day of shopping.  When we returned in about 5 or 6 hours, the patio was almost completed.  It was just what I dreamed of, and it gave me another place for a garden.  My first thought was what to plant between the stones.  I went to nurseries, asked advise from friends and family and read catalog after catalog.  I finally decided between Irish moss or step-upon thyme.  I decided on the English garden look with the moss  and, per the instructions, I thought that there would be enough shade there for the plants to grow well.   I also tried some thyme in a few areas to see how that would do.  After putting in thousands upon thousands of seeds and many plants of Irish moss, I know I have made a mistake.  The patio does get about 2 hours of sun a day and last year with the terrible heat, the moss withered and looked like straw.  I had spent many labor hours and quite a bit of money trying to cultivate these plants.  They were watered down every day, but apparently even a couple of hours of sun does them in.   This is my third year of trying to dress up this space and I am asking for advice.  The step-upon thyme did look nice in the crevasses where I planted them, however, they over-grew and I thought they looked somewhat messy and not the appearance I wanted.  However, they did very well and did not turn to straw.  The thought of getting on my knees and pulling out 3 years of work does not thrill me, but I am not happy with what I have done. I also have problems with grass and weeds growing among the moss.  I spend so much time pulling out these invasive pests.  The weeds do not seem to sprout up in the thyme though or at least are not as visible..  Unfortunately, last year, I pulled out all of the thyme and planted them in other gardens. So, it is April and I am ready to start over and tackle this problem once and for all. 

I am located in Zone 6.  Any ideas?

                                                       

My Retirement, Ready, Set, Don't Go

Germ Free and doing OK

Disappointed with Spring

About three weeks ago my friend Barbara and I attended the Philadelphia Flower show which this year was an exhibition of French spring gardens.  The show, which is held annually is the largest in the world and covers over 33 acres.  They kept to the theme and daffodils, tulips and lavender permeated the air. You entered through an Eiffel Tower structure and from there the artistry of France was combined to transport you to April in Paris. 

Those who know me accept me as a flower nut who, at times, goes over the top.  I am always looking for that "different" flower, the one that is new, unusual and not your ordinary plant.  I search catalogs, nursery centers, flower shows, and formal gardens for that "something special".  What I have learned is that sometimes they are not always what they said and photos are not always real-life; what is shown is usually more than the best-case scenario.  They insinuate that plants will grow in your zone and look just like the picture, unfortunately, they don't say your garden needs to be on a south corner in Borneo on a semi-warm day, with a  banana tree to the right, no wind but a light sea breeze and 4.5 worms in the soil to get that result  So I have been misled a few times and been disappointed, but it is always fun growing new plants and seeing the results, good or bad, it is always an experience I am glad I tried. 

After the flower show I was stoked.  Unfortunately, instead of it being April in Paris, it is March in Pennsylvania.  It looked like we might have an early spring as the temperatures had been in the 60's and had even sored to the 70's for a few days.  Of course, we all relied on Punxsutawny Phil, our resident groundhog and the official spokesman for the coming of spring.  He told us on February 2nd that it would be a short winter and we believed him.  After all he, like so many of our politicians, is a rodent and lives below the earth, he would know and would not lie to us. We noticed the daffodils and crocus sprouting out of the ground and saw that as a sign that Phil was right on the money.  Then, then, then, ..... cold, hail, snow, and nothing. Spring stood still.  My beautiful Weeping Willow whose buds were visible and whose yellow hue was turning to light green looks the same as it did two weeks ago.  Some bulbs have bloomed and I see colors of purple and pink in some neighbor's yards, but so far, nothing in mine.  What happened?  After thinking about it, I realized that this month in Pennsylvania is barely spring.  The early warmth, so unlike normal March temperatures, duped us.  We all wanted to be deceived though, we had that taste of spring in February and why should we not expect shorts and tee shirt weather in March.  What is true though is that April is right around the corner and with that will come better garden weather and more outdoor time.  Mother Nature knows when she is ready, I just have to have some patience.



Waiting, waiting, waiting.



So, I will plant pansies; they can survive happily in the cold.  They are one of my favorite flowers and adapt well to not-so- favorable circumstances.  I need to learn that lesson.

My Retirement - Down and Out

Bad week, but I'm doing OK.

Yuck!

There is nothing so wonderful as feeling good after feeling bad - really bad.  Something hit me on Sunday evening and had me to my knees screaming for my mother to please help me.  I can be overly dramatic!  At 8 pm that night I was fine and eating a helping of store-bought potato salad, by 10 pm I thought I was in the bowls of hell. I was convinced it was the salad and I had food poisoning.  The next three days had me moaning, looking like I felt, and wishing tomorrow would come quickly.  Hubby brought back the salad to the store and they are doing tests on it and will let us know the results.  However, now my granddaughter Emma has come down with the same symptoms, so maybe it is just a nasty bug that has invaded our systems.

Now I am feeling better and life is so much brighter.  I woke up this morning feeling like me and jumped out of bed (an exaggeration).  I saw the sun and thought "what a wonderful day", and just assumed it must be warm out, even though we got hit in the backside yesterday was some light snow.  Unfortunately, it is only in the low 40's, so there is no reason to put on a sundress yet.  Then came the highlight of my day.  I got on the scale and I was down six pounds.  That is 3 weeks of a diet that I planned to get on   Four days of  lo-cal ginger ale and saltine crackers paid off, although it was a very distasteful experience.  So, now I have a kick-start, my appetite for the sweet things in life has not come back yet, and maybe it is time for me to begin one of my manana goals.  Because of my walking everyday (always followed by a reward), I have not gained any weight during these past retirement months (even lost a size), but I want to keep my health and energy level and losing ten pounds will help.  Twenty pounds would be better, but that won't happen, so better to be realistic and proud.  Besides, the weight would come off my face, my jowls would hang even lower, the creases would be deeper and my eyelids may cascade over the top of my cheeks.  Even as we age, we ladies still have our pride.