Gotta Give it a Rest

The news, that is. Lately, I've realized that what I'm missing most in my life is hope..... a la Wiki: a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. The conundrum at this stage of the game is that all the major passages of life are behind you with the exception of death, and that most of what is bright and challenging and new belongs to the generation in the prime of life, aka, not you.

My time with my Dad has brought home to me the vagaries of age, how most of us don't die overnight but in small dribs and drabs every day, the same way in which we advanced to the peak of our power and wisdom. I find it difficult to have hope when what's in my sights is death and decay and the realization that the best years of my life are gone, and compliments of the daily news, the best years of Planet Earth along with them.

So my quest in 2010, Year of the Monkey Smackdown, is to figure out a way to put hope back in my life. Paul Krugman has suggested that we refer to this past decade as The Big Zero, and I'm inclined to agree. Maybe the next decade will turn out to be The One. I hope so. 

Grandgremlins

Christmas this year turned into unadulterated Baby Worship. There was Cameron in the flesh, and the promise of another sweet warm baby to come. John and I were tired by the time the 25th rolled around, having worked brutal non-stop retail right up to the last minute Christmas Eve. But what I'm finding is that Baby Worship doesn't take much energy. No doing, just a lot of being. You can't worship a baby unless your attention is completely focused on said bundle. It's all about the connection ~ through your hands, your eyes, your voice. Every time I'm with Cameron, I'm transported back to that magical world I discovered when I had Heather ~ the world where everything you're doing has meaning, feels totally natural and right, and is the culmination of all the skill sets you ever learned or knew innately.

So I'm enjoying our three grandchildren ~ two little girls from afar, and one big boy right here on the street where I live. And come the end of June, there will be another sweet bundle down in North Carolina to cuddle and get to know.

The Power of Voice

Back when I was teaching parenting classes, one of the mind-boggling facts I shared with parents is that fully 38% of communication is strictly through tone of voice. The words are totally secondary (7%), so it's all about inflection and tempo and nuance of vocal chord. And guess what? It's freaking true.

This morning I called my sister-in-law, Kelli, to ask about her holiday and plot to celebrate January birthdays. It was our usual chit chat of catch up, but her tone of voice, her musical laughter, her infectious happiness turned my "day off" of cleaning and bookwork into a little oasis of sharing and love.

Thanks for the great Christmas present Kelli!

Sun Worship

Every work day I feel gratitude for the 80 feet of glass across the front of our store, even though it looks out on the Speedway gas station across the street. I can still appreciate the sunny days, watch the snow, see the moon rise. It's total chaos out there in the rest of the world weather wise, but here in the Ohio Valley we are untouchable so far this winter! Fabulous dustings of snow, blue sunny days, enough rain to make it interesting.

Breathe deeply, let go

Today is one of those days where I must stifle myself. Though I have long criticized my husband's family in terms of not addressing emotional issues, I'm finally learning that there are times and places where it's just not productive or worth it. I used to attribute this type of silence to a lack of caring, but I now realize sometimes it's more about greasing the wheels of relationship and saving your energy for survival. Still doesn't feel right or good, but it takes time to change a perspective. The first step is to quit acting on directives from the Mother Ship.

So I'm out here in my little row boat today, exploring the islands.

Late Night at MM

One hour left to go of a 10-hour day here at the Max. Actually not true, John relieved me for an hour so I could get a massage. One hour on the table sure makes a 9-hour day bearable.

Our first cold snap and my hands suddenly look like alligator skin no matter how much lotion there is in the world. Bad bad hair day, the perm was such a misguided idea. The only thing that looks worse than straight gray hair is curly gray hair! Jesus, I feel like a geriatric Shirley Temple. So last night in the five minutes in the bathroom before jumping into bed I took the small blue scissors and went after it. Looks pretty awful but I feel better, like somehow I have had my revenge. Hey, I don't have to look at it most of the day.

My current favorite hubby quote, "Next time you feel like getting a perm........don't."

Sigh.

2:36 AM

May I just say how very tired I am of not getting eight contiguous hours of sleep every night? I wonder how many other menopausal women are sitting in front of their computers right now? or folding socks? or reading in bed? or reading downstairs where it's freezing because they don't want to wake up their partner who appears to be in stage 11 sleep?

I read a few days ago that the only real disability is a bad attitude (see paragraph one). Said by someone with a pretty sizable disability. I've been thinking about attitude a lot since then. Due to our situation here, I've been putting some pretty serious energy behind just taking things as they are, not worrying about the future, trusting that we'll figure something out no matter what happens. And I'm finding that it leaves the way open to shut off my brain which is forever trying to figure things out, running down this path and that. Staying in the moment seems to leave some space to enjoy myself more in the here and now, and to figure out my version of "a good attitude".

Ty and Kate brought exactly 3-month old Cameron over for a visit tonight. Our first "crying" visit. Note: Crying babies are cute if they are not yours. I could tell that he was majorly overdone and needed to get home and be rocked to sleep. His little body was tight, fists clenched and pulled up to his chest as he wailed out his discomfort. John and I are both hopelessly in love with the squirming bundle of life. I swear that we could both be totally happy just sitting around in rockers never getting dressed, passing him back and forth.

Gray

Bordering on balmy out there, but exceedingly gray. We do love the sun, there is nothing like those beaming rays to remind us how great it is to be alive on Planet Earth.

Lots of gray paint this morning to go with the gray sky. I'm on the second half of the porch deck and had the great idea this morning that I would sand out the bugs, twigs, leaves and tennis shoe footprints from my windy paint job the other day. Not. That industrial enamel is nothing to fool around with. If you've got a bug interred in it, might as well give it up unless you want to sand the whole mess down to the undercoat. Proving once again that if you screw something up, making it whole again is a whole lot more work than you ever thought it would be. Like teeth, for instance. Once those babies pass a certain point, it's like resurrecting the dead. I have one tooth in my mouth that probably has had close to $5000 in dental work slavered on it over the last 20 years. Totally freaking preventable. Sigh.

Pomegranate Fest

Yup. Three for $5 at Kroger's, and they are big and full of tasty jewels ~ we have eaten two already. John looked them up in Wikipedia because we didn't know anything about them. Enjoy ye East Coast fans, as they are gifts from the Magi and when we arrive at the post-oil future, you will not be able to grow these babies in your backyard.

So now my husband is an expert at how to peel a pomegranate, compliments of his research, and he's quite the manager now, which is totally funny as he's never had the slightest interest in how the seeds get from There to Here. I'm leaving the last one to him.

This week, compliments of all four of our very part-time employees falling to the flu in the past few weeks, they are all clamoring to come to work now. And since I am totally burnt out on Max due to covering their butts (or covering John's butt while he covers their butt), I'm only scheduled for three days this week. Yee-haw. Front porch project, here I come. I think anyway. I pulled a muscle in my back yesterday and it's mighty sore today!

Mostly Sunny (no quotes this time)

No waiting for Mr. Sun today, he was bustin' out as I entered the kitchen this morning where my honey had eggs and pancakes waiting. Does it get any better than that?

My little old man was back from yesterday, and I had to patiently listen to all his stories once again as he proceeded to pay for his mattress set. Note to self:  Don't get old. He also spoke poorly of his children, who were obviously trying to help him. Note to self: Appreciate your children.

So far so good on October sales ~ always a relief to have a gangbusters opening salvo on the month. That way there's hope that you could end up with a really stellar month, and if that doesn't pan out, at least you didn't spend the first two weeks agonizing that the business is going broke for sure. The rollercoaster of retail. I keep trying to process the lesson in this wild ride. Take things a day at a time. Rely on facts, not emotions. Take the long view. Enjoy the highs when they happen. See what I mean about the lesson? Very hard for me to tease out. Or how about this: you shouldn't be in retail sales. Ha ha. Can't go there right now.

"Mostly Sunny"

OK, weather underground, it's 10am and I'm waiting....

I am, of course, in my annual "Race for the Weather", for which there is no cure. It involves procrastinating until the last minute on crucial outdoor painting projects, which, if left undone, will leave large expanses of porch wood to rot in the winter weather to come.

Yesterday was a comedy of errors. Firstly, cute grandbaby shows up early for a session with Jampa Whis and is mesmerizing....resulting in late start on the porch enamel final coat, which is the "easy" finale to major sanding, patching, caulking and two coats of oil-based primer. Ha ha. Got to go to work, so it's a hurry up deal and the wind is blowing five miles an hour out of the NE (this house has turned me into a complete weather geek).....

I went out to peruse it this morning and it looks like a work of modern art with every colorful autumn leaf, twig and bug within miles stuck into it. It's might pretty, I've gotta admit. I can finally laugh about it, but yesterday I was pretty pissed. In fact, I had such a twist in my panties trying to pull leaves out on the backside of the job that I ended up walking through part of it, so there's the added textural interest of black running shoe imprints among the leaves and bugs. I wish I knew how to post a photo so everyone could see my masterpiece.

Next year, I am spending the entire summer painting the porch. For once, I'm going to do it right, do it on time, and welcome the Autumn with time to carve pumpkins and do fun fall stuff. I would so love to be that together.

Oh Dear!

My poor honey pulled a muscle in his back yesterday. He's gimping around and looks miserable ~ all that from bending over and cleaning a toilet. Just goes to show that we can be teetering on the edge sometimes and all it takes is a little push. I've been after him to get a massage for weeks now. In future, I will make the appointment for him!

Lady Luck

Or Sir Luck, or perhaps, just plain old Luck ~ the good or bad fortune in life caused by accident or chance which happens beyond a person's control.


One of the many things I've learned compliments of my current stint at retail is that much of what happens in the world has no rhyme or reason whatsoever. Unless you engage in something on a regular basis that points up this reality for you, one tends to assume that most risk can be managed, that cause and effect is how the world turns, that we're masters of our own destiny.


I assure you, this comforting world view is a pleasant fiction. 

Case in point: we can do the same thing here at retail month after month with dramatically differing results. Same number of TV spots, same message, same service, same hours, same everything. One month we're thinking we've got the world by the tail, the very next month we're bleeding cash.


So what's a girl to do? Quit tearing my hair out for starters. Stop pretending that every little thing I say or do has some specific karmic ripple in the universe. It's not that I intend to quit managing risk by making good decisions or that I think it's futile to live a rational life, but I do think that many of my disappointments in life would have been less galling if I'd realized earlier on that very often Lady Luck is sitting across from me and she's been dealt a full house right off the bat.


Fold it. Go home. Have a hot bath. Nuzzle your lover's neck. Give thanks for your great mattress, your cotton sheets, your new pillow and the balm of sleep.

Leaves, Glorious Leaves

What a summer it's been.

All summer long my farm childhood has been brought to the fore by the spectacular growing season we've had. Even now, the rains seem to arrive with regularity. Not driving rains, but gentle growing rains, keeping the leaves green and stuck to their branches. Our 20-year-old almost dead box elder in the back still has leaves; even in its prime it was naked by mid-August.

I'm sanding and patching and painting the front porch...... again. I love our big old mansion and the expansive wooden porch with four white columns. But it's made of.........ha ha.... wood that's 100 years old next year. And that had no maintenance for many decades. It's time for another major overhaul; I've found the man, now I need to find the money. I'd been eyeing his ad for months and months ~ one of those little one inch by one inch ads in the local service directory. The line that got me was "a master cabinet maker for your porch". So when my finger went through a board in front of the column to weather, I finally called. And he appears to be the man for the job. If only our business would cooperate on the money front.

I know. I know. It's ridiculous to spend all that money on a porch you can't even sit on and converse with another human because of the traffic noise. But one never knows. Maybe the bridge will get hit by a plane, maybe they'll build the North Muskingum Bridge one day. Maybe there will be complete economic collapse at some point and we'll all be walking and biking and hosting chickens in the backyard in violation of health ordinances.

We can only take care of what's in front of us now, and what's in front of me is my peeling rotting porch.