In the words of the new song by Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton..."You Can't Make Old Friends".
There really IS something very special about having a shared history with someone from your past...someone with whom you've maintained a relationship for years....Someone you can pick up a conversation with, even though you haven't seen each other for weeks, months, years. The threads holding you together are shared memories of earlier times.
Sure we still need to welcome new friends into our lives. They can bring a freshness when things may be getting too comfortable or a little stagnant. Plus the only thing keeping them from becoming OLD friends is time.
We seem so transient, mobile, these days, but even with so much amazing technology, disconnected. It takes work -from both ends-to keep friends close. I hope that I never forget the value of old friends and that we've raised our kids to know their value, too...because "you can't make old friends".
Thanks to all the old friends and the new ones for being such a presence in my life this year and all of them...
When it comes to nostalgia, is there anything that evokes more memories than the Christmas season? To me, reminiscing is the best part. Whether it goes all the way back to my childhood, thinking about Christmases when our boys were younger, or just thinking back to last year with the grandkids, there's nothing better!
I remember the excitement as a kid, leading up to Christmas. Taking rides to see the lights, visiting a live Nativity scene at a local church, finding a tree at the town tree lot, paying a visit to Santa at a department store... I'm pretty sure I had an extensive list for Santa, but when the magical night arrived, I forgot that list and loved everything under the tree. Our house was always the hub for the extended family's celebration and sharing the holidays then, with those who are now no longer with us, makes those memories even sweeter.
Christmas as a Mom brought a big responsibility of making Christmas as special for the boys as it had been for me. Some years, we nailed it, sometimes not so much. The boys may tell you their Christmas memories always involved dorky sweaters (and judging from the pictures, they may be right!) but my memories are different. I remember trying to keep them calm, during Mass, before the chaos started. I remember the year one son got a drum set from my folks (not sure what I did to deserve THAT!) or the other year, an uncle thought space guns that made 12 different sounds were a good gift idea for all three boys (Payback the following year was his three too-young daughters received make-up kits, complete with nail polish and lipstick) We had our share of football, basketball and baseball stuff, GI Joes
(or the cheaper version, GI Jim) and building blocks. Back then, what I wouldn't have done for a baby doll!
Having grandkids has added another layer of enjoyment for me at Christmas. They make the trek here and their joy and excitement brings back so many memories of when our boys were that age. And make new memories for Grandpa and I with their joy and innocence.
I've always been a traditionalist but I've learned that when you have a family of your own, you'd best be flexible. There were years when sick kids kept us from making the rounds...years, because of work or the kids sharing the holiday with in-laws- when everyone isn't in the same place at the same time. But you make it work, because it's family and it's Christmas.
I hope you've been blessed with wonderful Christmas memories, too, and that this Christmas is full of new ones for you and yours.
How I wish I could sleep like I did, as a kid! I really didn't appreciate it then. In fact, I think I fought sleep 50 or more years ago...a nap mat in kindergarten... having to come in from playing when the street lights came on as a youngster. getting into the house before curfew as a teenager... All signaled a time to sleep but I don't think I savored it then like I would now. Of course, back then, the biggest worries I had were which cereal I was going to have for breakfast or who was going to come out and play. The good old days!
For years, hubby has used the term "deader than 4:00" --meaning the carousers and party animals are usually in bed by then, workers aren't up and at 'em yet (unless they're a shift worker) and all is quiet for that brief hour of the day. Unless you're in our house ...where I'm wandering around or laying awake, trying to find that elusive peace.
It's not like I have huge worries now (although you never stop worrying about your kids...your grandkids... your spouse...your future...your friends.., do you?) The truth is I can't do a damn thing about any of it at 4:00 in the morning! But it doesn't matter. I remain awake.
I try different techniques in the hopes of nodding off. First, I start off with praying. If that doesn't work, counting my blessings, of which there are plenty, is next. If I'm still awake, I play a game of "If I won the lottery, who would I share the riches with?" The answers vary, depending on how I feel about that particular relative (hear that, boys?) or institution on that particular night. Then I start worrying about family members and friends I left out of the lottery game! Oh, heck!
My husband, who seldom suffers from this malady, swears I need help. And I probably do. But I know I'm not alone. From conversations with others, it sounds like a lot of women struggle to go to sleep and stay asleep.
Maybe some entrepreneur out there could start marketing woman-size kindergarten nap mats. Any takers?
I've never had a lustrous mane but what's with this thinning hair? It's not like I've treated my hair well thru the years, but come on! One more thing to chalk up to the aging process, I guess.
The first time I turned my locks over to Clairol, ( Loreal and any other haircoloring brand) was 45 years ago and it's been an adventure ever since. I have had every color in the haircolor spectrum and some haven't even been a human hair shade! But I just do it over...and over and over.... I'm not even sure what my real color is but I'm pretty sure it's peppered with grey by now.
I've been blessed with a wonderful hairdresser for the past 30 years who never cast judgement on the color and steered me thru decades of hairstyles. She could've steered me away from the "perm" decade in the 80's. But we made it through that phase and I'm still with her.
It's funny how we lose hair in one place and sprout it in another. I'm not as bad as the woman who remarked that she went to brush a hair off her lapel and realized it was attached to her chin! Not yet-anyway... And thank goodness, we're not like the male species who, sometimes, develop eyebrows like Andy Rooney,...or get a healthy crop of hair growing out of their ears...or noses... Again, not yet!
There's really no good reason for me to have a hair my head. But I'll keep on coloring, cutting, growing, plucking... This aging process is EXHAUSTING, isn't it?
I'm a Mom of boys and, as a girl from a family made up predominately of girls (3 sisters and one brother), I didn't know what I was in for. I popped out three boys in 5 years so I was going to find out in a hurry, wasn't I? I'm no expert but I offer up these tidbits...things I've learned through the years...to young Moms in the same spot.
#Forget about grass. I'm pretty sure the backyard lawn of our old house, from years ago, still has bald spots where first base, second base, third base and home plate were....
#Boys don't sit...they plop. I've lost count of the number of sofas and recliners we've gone through! And I'm not sure they outgrow that habit....
#Boys cannot whisper, or walk softly. I don't think they're physically capable of doing either....
# Brothers, walking towards each other in a hallway, can't resist tapping or shoving each other...
#Boys have terrible aim when using the john. It should be so easy...I have never understood that!
#There is nothing quite as distinctive or disgusting a smell as a sweaty, muddy football uniform.
#There will be times when you go to the fridge or the pantry and, despite your trip to the grocery store yesterday, will find nothing to eat.
I'm not grumblin'...raising boys was a challenge but the chatter, teasing, wrestling all made our home a lively one....and I loved that! And as an old Mom, I can tell you, at some point, you'll have your lawn...your bathroom will be spotless... there will be lunch meat in the fridge...The chaos will be gone---and you'll miss it.
That's something I've heard my entire lifetime. It's not that I'm this on-the-ball chick, who's always got something going on, somewhere to go... I'm just one of those people who kind of walks ahead of herself. Sorta like my face arrives a few seconds ahead of my body, in this leaning fashion. It's always been that way...probably always will be.
That could explain my lack of balance, couldn't it? I fall alot...to the point where no one rushes to my aid anymore. "She's gonna fall" was a term coined by a dear friend, to warn others of my clumsiness. It's that frequent of an occcurence. I'm thinking I'd better learn to carry myself properly, as I head further into the golden years. We joke that when my time's up, it'll probably be because of a fall... And that folks will say it would've been funny , if it hadn't been so damn tragic!
Next time you see me walking, what may seem like rushing around to you, is really strolling along to me...but I'm working on it...
I have a favor to ask.... Would somebody stop me!!! The holiday magazine covers have just about weakened me into thinking, once again, that I can bake!
Anyone who knows me on Facebook, knows that I have met with failure, time after time, when I have attempted to produce the beautiful Christmas trees, stars and more that adorn these covers. Whatever makes someone who hates measuring, sucks at math and has zero patience in just about everything, think they can recreate these beauties, is beyond me!
Those who know me know that I'm a sucker for the fragrance of baked goods,wafting through the house...especially this time of year. After feeling it was a cozy thing to do a few years ago, I attempted to bake and then posted a picture of my creations on Facebook. The result was some dear souls, anonymously, leaving boxes and tins of cookies on our porch for my deprived family. Some folks are just so sweet. I tried the same thing the following year but those sweet folks caught on to my ploy.
I can cook with some of the best of 'em. A dash of this, a splash of that can enhance a dish and truth be told, some of my finest creations have come about because of that kind of experimentation. But try that with cookies? They can puff up, become distorted, look nothing like the magazine covers, make the house smell nothing like the holidays (burning cookies are the worst!) or just plain taste awful!
Maybe God just made some people to be non-bakers. Why else would he have allowed the good people at Glade to come up with their Apple Cinnamon fragrance for their wall plug-ins? Just somebody...please stop me!
P.S. This is, in no way, a solicitation, for home-baked goods. Those who know me well know that self-control is also a weakness I have this time of year. Merry Christmas and a wonderful holiday season to you!
Recently I saw a segment on TV that said Size 12 is now considered a plus size. And judging by the absence of that size on store racks, it's also the most purchased size of women's apparel. I'm a size 12 so I can attest to that. Obesity is a huge problem in this country and nothing to be taken lightly. But Size 12 -a Plus size? Come on!
I can go up and down...my son's recent wedding motivated me to lose weight and I'm glad I did it. I felt wonderful! But I'm not a kale, water, yogurt kind of gal. It's all about smart portions of wise food choices and I try to keep that in mind. But I like to cook and I love to eat, especially this time of year. I make no apologies. And I still feel wonderful.
I've continued to work out because I want to be fit. But if my weight fluctuates, I'm not going to beat myself up over it. I have a closet full of 10's, 12's and some 14's so I've got it covered. I've come to the realization that I'm never gonna be a cute little old lady. I'll be more of a handsome old woman and I'm okay with that. As long as I'm fit, and it all works, I'm good. Happy Thanksgiving!
Is anyone else paying attention to the voices of the youngsters on shows, like "The Voice", "X Factor", or "American Idol"? I'm talking, 12, 14, 16 year olds! Where are they coming from?
The way they handle a song is way, way beyond their years. I am always amazed when I hear that kind of talent.
It's a far cry from when my sister and I would stand on our basement steps, singing "Johnny Angel", using hairbrushes as microphones. Sorry to out you, sister, but we were AWFUL! We would have heard "you were pitchy" all over the place back then. We would've been told to keep our day jobs by one of the meaner judges of those shows. But you know what? It wouldn't have silenced us!
To this day, music lightens my mood and singing along to an oldie is sometimes just what I need. My voice is thinner now -they say as we age, that happens - (and might I add, that's the ONLY thing that has thinned as I've aged!) but I can still sing in the car or the shower with the best of 'em!
I'll never be on a singing talent show...I've resigned myself to the fact that THAT ship has sailed... Hmmm...maybe "Dancing With The Stars" will call?
Read something awhile ago that has stayed with me...
"When you came into the world, crying, everyone around you was smiling. Live a life that when you leave this world, you'll be smiling and everyone around you is crying". That is a neat thing to strive for, don't you think?
Nobody knows what their legacy will be. Is being nice to folks, putting on a positive face, leaving the space we've occupied in better shape, going to get it done? Leave folks misting up when we go?
I was thinking about this while I was raking leaves today. We have this huge oak tree in our front yard. I don't know if my Dad planted it when he and Mom lived here or if they built the house around this tree. Either way, she's old and she's big....so much so, that her leaves make a mess in the front yard and then some blow over the house and mess up the back yard, as well. Every fall, I grumble about the ten million leaves I have to rake. In the spring, all is forgotten and I love the shade and the coolness the old girl provides.
Maybe things will go that way for me. So folks won't be wailing at my wake but if they're ticked off at me, half the time, and love and appreciate me the rest of the time, like the old oak tree out front, I'm okay with that.
I was cleaning out my closet, moving summer stuff out of the way for the winter stuff. Came across something and the question begs to be asked. So why did a comfortable rubber summer shoe of our childhood have to take a backseat to a specific style of ladies' underwear? Yep, I'm talking "thongs".
I still refer to "flip flops" as "thongs", much to the amusement of my granddaughters. I don't do it often but I get this look, like,"Oh, Grandma", when I do.
Old time "thongs" were quite innovative when they were first introduced. I mean, who ever had colorful rubber shoes before? Thinking back to them evokes great memories of throwing on a swimsuit, a cover-up, putting on my thongs, (the shoe kind!) grabbing a towel, and walking to the public pool with my sisters and friends.
I guess "thongs", the new kind, evolved from strippers. (Sure, they're attractive on THAT body type!). And I guess places, like Victoria's Secret, saw the chance to bring them to the general public and then Walmart, K-Mart and everyone else followed suit. Honestly, I don't get it. I bet most of us spent our entire childhoods and most of our teen years, pulling our underwear out of "there". Why in the world would we want to go there again? Spoiler Alert: you won't see me in pasties or using a stripper pole any time soon either (considering my history, that could be dangerous, maybe even deadly...)
Don't worry kids,...When I say I'm going to put on my thongs, I'll be wearing rubber shoes. Count on it!!!
Every year, I have a mammogram...I know that it's a valuable tool in the fight against that insidious disease -breast cancer. And I know so many women who have fought and won the battle because of that machine. But I don't have to LIKE it.
I don't want to be dismissive of its importance or jokey about its use -- but come on! Everyone knows that women had little say in its design. It had to be a sadistic guy...I just know it! For the men ...consider what putting your "junk" in a vise would feel like... Ouch....
I know I'm a bigger wimp than most but twice now, during my yearly examines, I've gotten light-headed and slid to the floor. The first time, I'm still not sure how I managed to snap out of the machine, on my way down. Most recently, the technician helped me ease down to the floor but not before I banged the heck out of my foot. She had me lay down until I regained my composure. EMBARRASSING! She was so kind and told me that everyone reacts differently...and it doesn't matter if you're flat as a board or as ample as Dolly Parton. It's an uncomfortable and unnatural position to be in...
Oh, I talk big about not going back but I'm going to keep getting mammograms.. They're too important to discontinue just because I'm a big baby. But I AM going to start wearing steel-toed boots to my appointment from now on!
I celebrated a birthday this past weekend. My 61st....I'm always glad to have them and this one was very nice. I appreciate folks, taking the time, to wish me well. Not a fan of time going by so quickly but it's all good.
With the exception of the age of 21, which has everything to do with alcohol, why is it, that birthdays that end with a "0" or a "5" are celebrated more joyously? Last year, I paraded around town, in "60"glasses, with a gag cane, thankful that I'd made it that far...and this year, at 61, to behave like that, I'd look foolish. Okay, I looked like a fool last year but no one cared. And that's my point. I was given a pass because my birthday ended in a "0".
Shouldn't we have the same degree of giddiness for every year we live? I know I'm fortunate to have been on this earth for 61 years and I thank the Lord everyday for it. I also know I grumble every once in awhile because I creak when I walk and groan when I get out of a chair. But these bones and muscles are entitled to that. They've walked a lot of miles and withstood some mild abuse thru the years.
The cemetery's full of folks who'd love to have made it to 61, so I'm going to celebrate, big-time, each year, no matter which one. Party, anyone?
Now That's A Tall Order!
Where was the fashion industry 40 years ago - when I needed them?
I'm a tall gal. I was always ahead of the curve, in terms of height. In grade school, I could pass for the Mom of some of the boys in my class.. In high school, I'd have had a basketball career -if I'd also have had an athletic bone in my body. So you get it...I'm tall.
It's not that uncommon anymore. There are tall women all over the place! And the fashion world is taking notice! Finally!
That wasn't always the case. Back in the 70's, when jeans were popular, my dear mother, a talented seamstress, sewed strips of patriotic fabric, along the bottom legs of my jeans, so I would fit in. Luckily, the hippie movement was in full force so I only looked like half a dork and not a full-blown one.
Then there was the stirrup pants era. Stirrup pants were stretch pants with a band of fabric that went under your foot, causing your slacks to maintain a smooth line and keep your slacks in place when wearing boots. Remember? They seemed like a great solution for a tall girl... That little band, tugging the slacks closer to the ankle...NOT SO! For about two years of my life, I walked around, tugging my slacks up, so the crotch wasn't down to my knees. Maybe suspenders would've helped... Nah, that could've been painful...
Thank you, fashion industry, for recognizing tall girls-finally! We appreciate it!
P.s. And I would kiss the lips of the person who came up with the idea of capris, where height doesn't matter, at all. You, sir...or madam, are a genius!
We don't live in a holler... We live in a brick, well sealed (or so I thought!) home that backs up to a lovely wooded lot. Any creature of the wild would be happy to live out back. Trees, nuts, berries......
But if you, arrogant squirrel, think you're better than your brethren and that "movin' on up" means taking up residence in our attic, you're wrong! Just because we shared a kernel of corn with you during the past year doesn't mean we want to house you and your family now!
And those dance parties you're hosting have to end, too. I can appreciate the fact that you can't sleep - I share the same malady - but I don't twerk all over the house at four o'clock in the morning, with total disregard for those who CAN sleep!
Yep, you and your kin may think you're living the high life now but that's about to end. You probably think you're entitled to enjoy the warmth of our home. Others of your kind have had the same thought and have met with a tragic end.
I'm not usually so inhospitable but this is our home and you have the entire outdoors! So save yourself and get out now! And spread the word! The Wright Place can get wild sometime but we don't need your kind around here...indoors anyway.
I'm really starting to think, maybe, I'm a big-city kind of girl....
I've decided that, at the age of 61, I actually love the lines and wrinkles on my face. When so many women are taking drastic measures to lose theirs, I'm actually starting to embrace mine. Why the change of heart? After all, I've spent plenty on creams and potions thru the years.
Now I guess I realize that each line represents something in my life - good or bad. Some of them are from years of worry that comes with raising three boys. Some are from years of laughing at my husband's jokes and stories. Some are from the countless sunny days I enjoyed as a child. Some are from the endless smiles shared with family and friends. Some are from the tears and sadness of losing my Dad and watching my Mom age....or watching my kids, pulling out of the driveway, embarking on their journeys away from Mom and Dad. Some are from laughing at the grandkids' antics or the tears from when their visits are over and they return to their lives, three hours away.
Yep...I have a lot of lines and wrinkles. But I also have, in my heart, the knowledge that I have been extremely blessed. So I think from now on, when I look in the mirror, I'll count my blessings instead of the wrinkles and lines....who's with me on this? https://www.facebook.com/marysue.wright
