It was miserable the other morning, rain coming down in sheets sideways, wind howling like a banshee. And it was cold, the first morning I’d considered actually cold this fall. What to wear? I was setting out for an entire day of errands and a long meeting with my writers group. I imagined getting in and out of the car and running for my destination would require an umbrella or at least a good rain coat. I dressed for the weather, at least the weather as it was at that moment. Wool socks and comfy fleece lined boots for my feet, jeans, a long sleeved cotton shirt with a mixed blend sweater and a rain coat. My hair in a hat – it had no chance at all in the wind as it were. As I headed out the door, I considered running back in for a scarf and gloves, but I was going to be late if I didn’t get going. So, I left feeling uneasy about the possibility of cold hands. I hate cold hands. My first stop was at a small cafe to meet with my writers group for coffee and a bite to eat before…
Sail Away!
This is my dream – beautiful boat sailing into the clear blue warm waters of the South Pacific. Reality is a little bit different, on more than one count. Our sailboat came to us “free” by way of an acquaintance of an acquaintances friends brothers girlfriends nephew. It was thrilling! I’ve always wanted a sail boat and my husband could hardly argue with “free”, right? It just needed a little work, just a little – couldn’t he see that? It wouldn’t cost much at all and in two weeks in would be done and in the water. What a deal! In the months that have past since we legally signed the adoption papers from a guy who could hardly wait to sign it over, our lovely lady has sat at the marina, in dry dock. She looks less than dreamy, her worn old sails wound tightly around the boom, a boom that houses hornets we can’t seem to get rid of. Not that the entire interior was dry rot, just about ninety percent of it I’d say. And it would have been fine without the exterior paint job and new stripping, it just wouldn’t have been quite so cute,…
Slipping Through the One Year Mark
Mom died a year ago. Actually it’s been a year and a few weeks. The date came and went, slipped by without anyone falling apart. Thank God for memories. If I closed my eyes and spoke with her, my imagination would put me sitting side by side on the glider at the lake. She would be speaking clearly, the stroke not yet having arrived and confiscated her life. We would be discussing the kids and she would be reminding me to pick my battles carefully and not make an issue out of the small things. I miss her. They say making it through the one year mark is huge, the sailing should be smooth from then on. I hope “they” are right. Yet somehow, as time goes by, I feel her absence more and more. Well, we can’t expect these fragile bodies to last forever, right? I mean, death is a part of life. It’s so simple, so matter of fact, yet for most of us, so hard to accept. The world marches on, with or without us, proving just how insignificant we are, how precious life is, and how important it is to live each day to the fullest.…
By The Light of the Moon
It was about midnight when the light of the moon woke me. A flashlight in my face wouldn’t have been brighter or more affective. We’d left the doors open to our bedroom deck because it had been so warm when we’d gone to bed about two hours earlier. At the time, I’d looked for the moon but couldn’t find it although an abundance of brilliant stars dotted the blanket of blackness overhead. The street lights across the bay twinkled as if they too were stars fallen from heaven. I heard something splash in the water, maybe a fish jumping, or a seal. The sound of the splash echoed off the still waters and a ripple traveled into the moon light. Sweet salt water permeated the heavy air. I’ve always thought if we could bottle that smell we’d make a fortune. Moon light was cast all the way across the bay. In my mind I could see a ship slowly passing by or a whale gently breaching by the light of the moon. But nothing actually did. There was only stillness and deep quiet. Occasionally, a loon would call out and be answered by another far away. I saw something…
Chocolate and Sleep
Two things I just can’t get enough of; chocolate and sleep. I have recently become a closet connoisseur of fine dark chocolates, hiding them in my car or in my backpack. On those busy days when two in the afternoon rolls around and I feel myself slipping, I sneak a nibble or three and am energized for a few more hours. Then it happens again, around four. What’s another little bite? I’d prefer to have a little chocolate with a nap, like fries with a burger. A few small nibbles on the chocolate bar, slowly biting down on the solid chunk of heaven, making sure all the taste buds have a chance to revel before chewing and swallowing. Then, I’d curl up with my favorite quilt and softest pillow and close my eyes for an hour or so. Dogs next to me snoring softly, sunshine peaking through the windows. A little breeze rustling the leaves. Heavenly. If we don’t have our dreams, what do we have? I think this is what I’ll request for my birthday next year; the whole package and maybe throw in a massage or a pedicure. Chocolate goes really well with those, too. I’ve decided…
Good Times with the Old Timers
“I’ve been working all day,” I defend myself to my ninety two year old neighbor. “Just look at me!” I indicated the mess that I am, as surely anyone can see. “I haven’t even had time for a shower!” “You need to do something. You’re just lazy. And you need to clean yourself up. You’re a mess.” “But I’m not lazy. I’ve been working since seven o’clock this morning! And I know I’m a mess. I’m going to clean up as soon as I’m done cleaning the house, re-potting my plants, pulling weeds, dead-heading the flowers, and scouring out our bathroom. ” “Look at your dogs,” she reaches down to pet one. “They’ve been locked in the yard all day. They haven’t even been over to see me.” She peers closely into Rita’s eyes and asks, “Does she ever take you for a walk?” “I walked them first thing this morning as I do every morning. Really, they’re spoiled beyond reason.” She continues to pet the dogs while talking to me. “You are a terrible dog owner. You should give them away.” “I am not a terrible dog owner. They get a good walk every morning and they get…
Imagine That…or maybe not
Not that I think it was the Loch Ness or anything like that. I mean I was under water, and swimming in salt water, so it could have been clouding my vision. The salt water is hard on my eyes and it always takes a while to adjust and for the initial sting to go away. Yet, it wasn’t the usual life in the water, like a seal or an otter. It certainly wasn’t a whale. And it was absolutely not a jelly fish or an octopus. It was….well, I don’t know what the heck it was! That’s the problem. I’ve never felt uncomfortable swimming in Puget Sound. I love the salt water, the cold invigorating temperature that snaps a person right to attention, just in case one was tempted to fall asleep as if in a nice warm bath. That will never happen in the waters surrounding the Puget Sound. Yet, in the same vein, one will never encounter a strange, large, unidentifiable…what should I call it?…a sea creature. Right? There I was with the only other people on the beach being the neighbors who were out wake boarding. I new if I panicked I would most likely…
It’s All in the Family
As I watch my eight year old nephews face break in to a huge smile, I see my niece from another brother. I watch another nephew pull a goofy face and I can’t get over how much he looks like one of his uncles. I have two nieces that mirror my own daughters in mannerisms that make me laugh. It’s all in the family, isn’t it? Our daughters narrow shoulders came from my mother, as does her determination. Our son’s short stocky frame is his grandfathers as is his jovial laugh. My younger sister is so much like the brother we lost; I wonder if she knows it? I hear my mother’s voice coming out of myself all the time. It’s kind of nice. I don’t miss her so much knowing I’ve got a little bit of her in my personality, like her sense of humor. Inappropriate at times, yet good to have. I remember times it got her into a bit of trouble, just as it has me. When we are all together it is apparent we all belong together, the family resemblances glaringly obvious. Yet none of us minds, at least not that I know. We’re an okay…
A Tree With No Limbs
I met a woman years ago I consider more of an acquaintance than a friend. We met through a mutual friend but have never gotten together on our own. Perhaps we feel we wouldn’t have anything in common without her, the elastic band that stretches between us. Or, maybe we fear it would be unfaithful to get together without our mutual friend. Whatever the case may be, I’ll never forget a particular conversation we had one day, the three of us, while meeting for lunch downtown. The mutual friend and I were discussing our families, particularly our daughters who know each other well. Suddenly, the acquaintance blurts out, “I feel like a tree with no limbs.” We looked at her with questioning eyes. A tree with no limbs? What was she talking about? She went on to explain how sorry she was she never had children. Regardless of anything else people may or may not have in common, nearly everyone can talk about their kids. It’s a topic that guarantees conversation. She said it doesn’t matter where in the world a person lives, where they work or what they do, women with children have something in common and it’s a…
Nothing Like the Auroma of Fresh Coffee!
When our son was a toddler, he followed me to the coffee maker every morning. He waited for the beans to be freshly ground and then he’d give me the signal which was a tug on my leg. Before anything else could happen, I would bend over to offer him a good long wiff of the fresh ground beans, then I’d make a pot. We always knew he’d be a coffee drinker. For years he poked his nose in the grinder and inhaled all the way to the bottom of his toes. He’d smile and walk away having his fix. When he was about nine or ten he asked me if he could have coffee with us. We explained that he couldn’t for many reasons. The poor guy was going to have to wait. Now days he makes his espresso nice and fresh every morning and revels in the luxury of rich gourmet blends invading his senses. I don’t know what it is about the aroma of fresh coffee dripping in the pot every morning, like a welcome mat set out for a fresh new day. I think it has a lot to do with holding…