Thanks!

How funny is this?   I've hit 10,000 views of my blog  and I just want to thank those who have viewed it, so far.  What started as a time -killing experiment has turned into a creative outlet for me.  I get a kick out of the comments and the "likes"... and seeing that others have shared some of the same memories I have, has been fun. I set a goal last October, when I posted my first blog...  I hoped  to reach 10,000 views in  a year.  And here we are!  4 months early!    You've made an old(er) broad happy.  Thanks again!

Marysue

Finally Vindicated!

 I think that people who nap have long been looked down upon, considered lazy, and not very driven.
Well,  I am a firm believer in naps and am downright giddy right now!  And why?   Because the science community finally backs me up and says that naps are good for you!  The vindication I've been waiting for!

The experts say "a 10-20 minute power nap provides a boost in alertness and energy" and "a 60 minute nap has been proven to improve remembering facts, faces and names".  And who doesn't need help with that?  The experts "caution that too long of naps can lead to sleep problems at night"... Minor details!  I love naps!

When the boys were younger, they knew it behooved everyone in the house to let Mom nap. I'd turn on the box fan to drown out the noise and catch a few winks....Amazingly, the law was never summoned and Children's Services wasn't called in.  I'm just sure the boys were well-behaved while Mom napped in the other room....yeah, right!

About that box fan...if I have any apologies to my sons and hubby, it's for causing them to also become addicted to the hum of a fan while they sleep.  There were a few years, in our house,  with all the fans going, it sounded like an airport or like the entire house was going to take off!  When the boys all went off to school and left the nest,  not only did the food bills get smaller, but there was also a noticeable reduction in our electric bill.

It's funny -when you're young, running after kids, so busy with your lives, the opportunities to nap are fewer.  And when you're old(er) and have all the time in the world, naps aren't as needed.  Oh, who am I kidding?  I STILL love naps and I highly recommend them!

The "F" Word...

You know which one I'm talking about...the foul word that has crept into our everyday vernacular?   And for what reason?  Because it's one syllable? Because it's a "strong" word?  Because our vocabulary is so limited that we can't come up with a better one?  Because it makes us sound cool and grown-up?  (although that reasoning doesn't work if you're already old). I just don't get it.

I'm not going to act all  "holier than thou" and pretend I haven't used the word...it's an easy, go-to word when things aren't going right.  But I've noticed that it's become totally  acceptable in today's music, movies, television (on the premiere channels) and why?  I remember when saying the word "shit" was enough to get you grounded.  When did things change?  Are parents doing anything to their kids when they utter that word?  When they use it frequently themselves? 

I've never understood how or why the F-word is used,  in the first place.  Why use a word that represents something beautiful, like lovemaking, when we're angry or want to hurt someone?  

Let's try an exercise.  Where we might use the F-word, let's substitute it with the "real" word, okay?  I'll start...  "Aw, Intercourse you!"   "He is so intercoursing cute"!   "I don't give an intercourse"!  "Intercourse you and the horse you rode in on"!  There, that's enough.  You get my reasoning, right?

I know that my writing this blog isn't going to change anything.  That dumb word will still be overused, but I for one, find it boring, redundant and think that its use makes folks look like they lack the skills to express themselves any better.

Perhaps you're thinking "aw, intercourse you, you old woman"... To which I'd respond "get a dictionary...a whole new world awaits you."

Being a Left-Hander

Being a Left-Hander

For my entire life, I've felt like I'm a klutz, very ungraceful, a spaz...I've blamed it on my height, my need to get places in a hurry, my just not being very coordinated.  And I would have gone through the rest of my life feeling that way, if I hadn't happened upon an article online.  Finally, I have a reason for my "condition"!  My failure to look poised and feel graceful  can be directly attributed to the fact
that I'm a lefty!

From the first time I tried using scissors in kindergarten, to dipping ice cream with an ice cream scooper at my first job, I've known being a left-handed person in a right-handed world was difficult.  But after finding out new information in this article, it isn't any wonder I come off looking awkward!

Like, did you realize that a tape measure's numbers are upside down, if held by a lefty?  Or that can openers are downright dangerous in the hands of a left-hander?  You know the pens that get handed out, the kind with advertising on them?   In the hands of a lefty, their message is lost because the printing is upside down.  And the pens, attached on a chain, at the bank, are on the wrong side, for someone of my ilk.  Same deal with credit card scanners...wrong side!  The countless letters and cards I've written that were smeared from dragging my hand across the fresh ink?  Unavoidable for a lefty!  And don't get me started on  spiral notebooks and binders!  It's downright painful for a left-hander to write, with those wires jabbing into your hand!

I could take solace in the company of famous left handers, like President Ronald Reagan, the great actor Robert DeNiro,  and basketball whiz Larry Bird   ( And gloss over some of them, like The Boston Strangler, Jack the Ripper and John Dillinger, all lefties.)  but I, perhaps, should just "own" it and face the fact that things are just a bit askew for someone like me.

So do me favor.  The next time you see someone wrestling with their credit card at the check-out line, writing upside down at the bank teller's window, or bleeding from using a spiral notebook, don't look at them with disdain or pity.  Just know that they're doing the best they can with something they never asked for...being a Left-Hander...

"Hope Springs Eternal"

My 90 year old Mom gave up her license recently ( The "Driving Miss Daisy" post covered that) and one of the duties that has fallen to me is taking her for her Friday beauty shop appointment.  It's no problem - pick her up, drop her off, go to the grocery store for her while she's in the salon chair, pick her up, do lunch and take her home.  Glad to do it, as I'm sure she ran me all over the place when I was license-less.

Little did I know that I would be on the learning end of a very important lesson because of my new duties.  And that is "Hope springs eternal".

Now, the beauty shop my Mom frequents has been around awhile.  It's built up a fine reputation among its clientele.  The hairdressers are very competent and friendly, as are the customers.  But I don't think it's the kind of place that caters to younger ladies...you'd not see a gal getting purple streaks put into her hair or having a side of her head shaved, ala Miley Cyrus, at this place.    In fact, I think it'd be safe to say when I walk in, the median age drops down to 70.  (I'm 62 and my Mom's 90, so do the Math).

Believe me...I don't mean any disrespect here...but most of these women shouldn't even be buying green bananas!  But here they are -week after week - getting their hair done.  A few have walkers to get them to their chair...most are dropped off my husbands or kids...  Perms, dye jobs, wash and style...That all-important beauty appointment must be kept!

When I asked one gal how she was doing, her reply was "I don't feel very good today but I'll feel better after I get my hair done."  And there lies the lesson.

It doesn't matter how old we are.  We have to get up every day, put our best foot forward, and plow ahead.  At an age when I would, perhaps, be throwing in the towel, and just "phoning it in", here are these women, at their age, putting forth the effort to look good for those around them.

Yes, "hope springs eternal" and these Friday Beauty Shop ladies I've come to know, and have learned from, prove it.   Thanks, ladies!

Floral Hierarchy

I was working outside, weeding.  It seems like that's my full time summer job but the price we pay for having gardens and flower beds.  A small price, I'd say, for their beauty and bounty...

While I was tending to them, I got to wondering "So who decided that the rose should be the queen of
the floral hierarchy?"  Is it her beauty alone?  Is it because she's higher maintenance than her minions, like the petunia or the geraniums?  Granted, the geranium doesn't have her fragrance (in fact, to me,
geraniums stink!) and petunias can get leggy, but really... who died and made the rose boss of the garden?  They all have to be dead-headed so what makes Rose think she's so special?

Rose's poor cousins, lilacs and lillies of the valley, never stay around long enough, in my opinion.  They're far more fragrant than Rose but they probably tire of the her boorish behavior so their visit is short-lived.  But lillies of the valley are pretty invasive, too, oftentimes going where they want to go, which is pretty rude for a once- a - year visitor.

I love daisies.  They seem to have a kind of friendly screw-off attitude about things.  They spread themselves around pretty generously,  their cheery colors welcoming garden visitors.  They just seem like carefree fun-lovers... so unlike that haughty Rose.

And who decided that dandelions are "weeds"?  If we'd look at them closely in a kind way, rather than as someone who's trying to kill them, perhaps we'd appreciate their beauty.  Nah, they're way too prolific, show no self-control, and pop up unexpectedly, so we'd better get rid of them!

I'll grant you this...Rose, you are beautiful. But you're far from perfect.    Sure, your color and fragrance are a nice addition to the landscape, but you DO have thorns!  I guess I just prefer something that is less snobbish about their beauty.  And just so Rose knows, if we lived somewhere tropical, she'd be hearing footsteps, as the gardenia would take her place at the top of the floral hierarchy, in MY book!   Now, that's a flower!

"Uptown""Downtown"...

Being stuck in traffic on the main street of our town had me thinking back to the time when our town was such a bustling one.  So many things to do and places to go.  I know that, looking back, things seem better, look bigger and that's not always the reality.  But in the case of my hometown, it truly is. 

A lot of my memories are centered...well...in the center of our town.  Some called it uptown, some called it downtown.  It didn't matter.  It was such a vibrant place...back then.

I remember, so well, the city busses that would take us all over the place...  Riding with my Mom, as a child, I remember how she'd let me pull "the rope" that would signal the driver that our stop was coming up.  Once "uptown,  the countless stores awaited our business.  Dress shops, movie theaters, lots of restaurants, department stores, drugstores... all lined the street of our thriving town.   

 I'm not sure why but  I vividly recall the fragrance of cashews, roasting,  when we'd enter the Sear's store, in search of bargains.  Their candy counter was next to the escalator that we HAD to pass to get to the second floor and that usually meant a small bag of candy for me.    Onto Penney's, where I remember waiting impatiently, in the fabric department, while my Mom pored over the bolts and bolts of material,  just hoping she'd pick SOMETHING so we could move on.   Occasionally, we'd pay a visit to the more upscale Martin's or Robinson Schwinn  (where I saw my first elevator attendant- can you imagine THAT job?  As a claustrophobic, it certainly wouldn't be on my list of "Career Day" choices!)  A special treat, before boarding the bus for home, was a cold Coke at the lunch counter of one of the "five and dime" stores on the main street of our town.

When we were pre-teens, riding the bus "uptown" was the first real breaking away from home for a lot of us.  Leaving the safe neighborhood we grew up in, for parts of town that were different, was a big step. A group of girls, on our own, without supervision,  going uptown gave us  freedom that had us spending our allowances and our babysitting earnings on "things"...with little approval...except of those we were with.   " Should we go to Imfeld's Music Store to buy a Beatles record?"  "Or maybe Woolworth's for that pretty shade of lipstick we saw in "Seventeen" magazine?"  If I'd had a very lucrative week at babysitting or had managed to save up some loot (something that seldom happened!)  should I spring for that sweater in Miller-Wohl's window?  Or was the one at Wilmer's cuter?    We'd compare our purchases when we all sat down in a booth at "Country Kitchen", a hangout, where we felt more mature, just stepping in the door.  Every booth had a small jukebox, which, thinking back, was kind of silly.  Sure, you got your choice of tunes...as long as you didn't mind hearing  your Beach Boys song, mixed in with an Aretha Franklin  and  a Petula Clark one, the choices of your booth-neighbors.  After sharing fries and a Coke, laughing, talking, we'd step outside to the bus stop for our ride home.

As a young Mom, the city busses lost their significance to me...and to a lot of other folks.  Driving uptown with kids in tow, and running into a store, for this or that, replaced the carefree fun of making those frivolous decisions about lipstick and records.    And when the big malls came along, the shoppers followed, the stores we frequented as kids closed and our fine city center hasn't been the same since. 

 And I hate malls for that.  I probably shouldn't be so hard on them.  They were new and shiny...they offered everything one could want or need....something our "downtown" or "uptown" could no longer do.  Maybe something new will come along and malls will be replaced by something else... and the kids who enjoyed them will mourn their demise, too.  Life's like that.  We think our memories are the best... that our pasts are richer because of certain events or places.  But it would be hard to argue that my town wasn't the absolute best, in its day!  And I truly miss it. 

Four Quarters or a Hundred Pennies...

Read an interesting quote online recently (thanks, Linda!) that said "As I get older, I'm becoming more selective of who I consider a friend.  I find that I would rather have four quarters than 100 pennies."

Is that true with you?  It really got me to thinking about the folks in my life.

I've been blessed with great friends throughout my life...some, the kind that, no matter how much time has passed since I saw them last, we pick up where we left off.  Some are the siblings I grew up with.   Some are the wives of hubby's friends who've become best friends of mine now.   Some are the parents of our kids' friends -our relationships forged as we rode herd on a bunch of boys.  Some are newer friends, brought into my life because of a common interest we share.  Some are old school friends -our friendships renewed because of class reunions.  Some are "friends" because of the amazing technology that is social media.  

The above quote suggests that as we age, we don't have the need for so many people in our lives.   But I want to challenge that.  Sure, hubby and I don't feel the need to party with big groups of friends, like we used to.  (Takes too long to recuperate...) but I hope that we always have friends... And all kinds of them in our lives.  When it's  all said and done, whether they're "quarters"  or "pennies", you can't put a price tag on friendship.

"It's Kool Inside"

We knew it was going to happen.  They were living on borrowed time.  And at the age of 28, they really surpassed their life expectancy.   But are we ever really prepared to say "goodbye"?   Luckily, their time didn't come in the heat of the summer or during the coldest of days.  Yep, our heating and air conditioning system bit the dust.  Air Conditioning put up a fight...sputtering and clunking to the end.  Her brother, Heating, wasn't quite ready to go, but since they've been together since 1986, we figured they'd want to go together.   Instead of taking the bandaid approach, pouring more money into their sad conditions, we're going to pull the plug on both of them. But what choice do we have?

This decision got me to thinking "When did we become so addicted to such comforts as air conditioning?" Heating has always been a given.  Since the age of cave men and the creation of fire, we knew that keeping warm was needed if we were going to survive.  But air conditioning?  It's a luxury that we all have to have now.  And I have the checkbook balance to prove it!

Kids today -and their parents -just assume that air conditioning is a right of life, because it seems we've always had it....but that wasn't always the case.  When we were kids (Oh, here she goes again!) sleeping in a hot upstairs bedroom, with the night breeze coming thru an open window, was what we had.  A box fan in the window was a welcome addition to the household and if it was blazing outside, the basement provided a cool spot.  Perhaps, not having air conditioning was the reason for our crowded public swimming pools and air conditioning's growing popularity was part of the reason for their demise.  Okay, maybe that's a stretch but think about it...Sitting in a cool home is less strenuous. 

I remember as a kid, the Mom and Pop stores we frequented, had window air conditioners... they weren't pretty, stuck in the window, but they kept the customers cool when we were there.   A neighborhood drugstore we went to was my first recollection of an all-out air conditioning system.  They even had a sign on the door that said "Come In.  It's Kool Inside."  Clever marketing, I'd say, as they advertised a popular brand of cigarettes, as well as cool, comfortable shopping.  (Why in the world would I remember that?)

Thinking back to simpler times is always fun but the fact of the matter is we're spoiled so a new system is on its way.  It won't be long 'til I'm scurrying from my car (okay, you can stop laughing at THAT image!) to reach my air conditioned nirvana that is "home".  Maybe, one of these days, a flea market find from simpler times,  is in my future... one of those signs that says "Come In.  It's Kool Inside"!?!  Now, that would be Kool?