My Pity Party Backfired

This actually happened this morning. Since it’s fresh in my mind, I wanted to share what happened and what a schmuck I felt like afterwards.

For about 27 or 28 years, I’ve been entering the Culinary Challenge (think Olivia Walton from The Waltons taking a cake to the Jefferson County fair) at my State Fair. For the most part I’ve had some pretty good success as winning ribbons. But there has also been some huge disappointments.

First, let me tell you that if you ever plan to, or ever have entered a county fair or state fair culinary competition, the item that you’re 100% sure is going to be a winner and put you on the map will definitely not win. The item you baked that is burned a little bit here and there and has a huge crack down the center, will be a winner. Trust me…I’ve done this far too long.

Yesterday was Day 1 Judging. I live for this every year and start checking the State Fair website right after the New Year…every year. And I check it daily until lo and behold, there is the rule book and all the options to choose from on what you want to make. I am consumed with this.

There’s a process I go through. First, I print the entire book which covers four different judging days. I read each category, highlight it if it’s something I want to try, and then I go through the book at least two or three more times just in case I missed something. After that it’s an online search for unique recipes or hauling out a box I have of at least five hundred recipes…printed or a magazine page I tore out at the doctor / dentist office.

I don’t just stop there. Once I’ve totally decided on which categories I’m going to enter, and I found the recipes I want to use, and I type up the two required copies of said recipes…I also make up the humongous grocery list…and all of this is done by the end of March.

Are you sitting? The first day of judging isn’t until the 3rd week in July. Do you know how silly I feel sharing this obsession with you? Not to mention I have Bill watching me do this while it’s snowing outside…and he’s laughing. But he knows how important this is to me.

Ok…fast forward to yesterday. The first judging day is always on a Wednesday. Monday and Tuesday I am cooking and / or baking for at least 8 hours each day. This year is kind of a light year for me because I signed up for 16 categories over the course of two judging days when I normally do twenty or more.

The very first thing I took out of the oven on Monday morning was slightly burned. I took a butter knife and tried to scrape it off, but it was a crusty bread, and it wasn’t budging. I always use my first item as a guide on how my ribbon count is going to go that year. So far this year wasn’t looking too good.

Long story short (too late), I entered 9 items yesterday and only won three ribbons. I was in shock. As I said when I started this story, the item you think is going to put you on the map doesn’t…and that held true yesterday. One of the breads I made was a four-grain bread and I’m here to tell you that it was gorgeous. The only person who didn’t get that memo was the judge. I didn’t place. The judge said it was too dense.

Today I was supposed to bake again for Saturday’s judging. I’ve got two days to get seven more things made. I woke up and was so depressed I didn’t want to bake and thought about throwing in the towel. But that’s not who I am.

The first thing I did was text two of my BFFs, told them what happened, and asked them to give me a pep talk. The three of us are on a three-way text every morning. I got my pep talk but also found out that one of my BFFs had a rough night with her adult daughter, her husband has Covid, and she’s exhausted with a sore throat. Then the other BFF shared with us a pretty serious situation going on with her family.

I want to be able to help either of them with anything they need during these difficult times in their lives, but first I have to pull up my big girl panties and stop whining about my bread not winning a ribbon at the fair. No pity party here!

Homeless in my Neighborhood

For the last several years I’ve seen a man in my neighborhood that is homeless. The first time I saw him about three years ago, he was sitting on a bench outside of the grocery store about three blocks from my house. At that time I assumed he was homeless because he was surrounded by about a half-dozen plastic bags…and they weren’t the grocery store bags. He didn’t look dirty or disheveled. His hair and beard were well groomed. His clothes looked clean and decent. He was ruggedly handsome.

At the time I didn’t think too much about it simply because he was so well groomed and clean. I assumed he had a clean, safe place to go every night.

Then I saw him sitting on the bench almost every time I went to the grocery store. Nothing changed about him or his belongings. I was strangely curious because I’ve heard that most homeless people have a level of mental illness, but I still could not comprehend carrying all of my belongings with me and walking the streets.

After quite some time of seeing him, all of a sudden I didn’t, but was still curious about him, and hoped he found a place to live. I wondered where he went when it was raining, snowing, or bitterly cold.

Spring came and as the weather warmed up, he reappeared. He wasn’t hanging out on the bench at the grocery store anymore. I saw him, with his growing collection of bags, sleeping under trees. First on one side of the street, then the other side of the street, and then several blocks away leaning against a wall at the gas station. This went on for about three or four years.

He reappeared about two months ago when the weather warmed up once again. His collection of bags was growing and growing. I often mentioned to my husband that we should get him a wagon to make it easier to move all those bags.

See, what he does is take two bags in each hand, walks about twenty or thirty feet down the sidewalk, and puts them down. He returns to his previous ‘residence’, picks up four more bags and walks them to where he put the first set of bags. He continues this practice until all the bags are moved. Then he starts the process all over again and again until he reaches his new destination.

I’ve never seen anyone approach him and was a little apprehensive myself. I’m a member of an online neighborhood group so I decided to post something about him to see if anyone had more insight. I received many responses. Several knew his name was Jeff. Some people said he was very mean as they had approached him with food and offers of a wagon for his belongings…always turning down both.

I told my son about him and he said that one day as he was driving to my house, he noticed ‘Jeff’ walking with a bunch of bags and assumed they were groceries. He pulled over and offered him a ride. Jeff told him to go f**k himself.

So it’s pretty obvious that ‘Jeff’ wants to be left alone, carry all of his belongings without assistance, and wants to sleep under trees. He’s not hurting anyone but it’s nice to know that many people are watching out after him.

About ten years ago there was another homeless man standing day in and day out at the end of an exit ramp from the Interstate. He held a cardboard sign saying he was homeless and wanted money for food. I never saw anyone give him anything, but I don’t hang out at the exit ramp of the Interstate.

About a year later there was an article about him in the newspaper. So many people had seen him and were curious enough to contact the newspaper. They sent out a reporter to interview the guy and he was nice enough to answer the reporters’ questions.

He admitted that asking for handouts was easier than keeping a job and that he did quite well at it. Florida was his winter home and he couch-surfed all the way there in fall and headed back this way in spring. I don’t recall everything the article said about him, but he seemed content doing just what he was doing.

As we’ve heard, it takes a village to raise a child. In these types of cases, that same village could help the ‘Jeffs’ of this world with food, clothing, and a wagon…if they wanted the help.

I Was Reading About My Life

(In Rod Serling’s voice) Imagine if you will, 6am, still dark outside, the house is quiet, and you’re looking for something non-electronic to amuse you.

It’s not your house and the only magazines you can find are a National Geographic and Esquire. I knew Esquire was going to be loaded with ads for things I could never afford but since I’ve never cracked the cover of an issue, now was as good a time as any.

And I was right. I had to turn 16 pages before getting to this issues Table of Contents.

A couple pages later an article caught my attention. Written by a gentleman who had apparently been in regular therapy for over twenty years, how it helped him talking to someone he could trust, and what happened in his life that lead him to therapy.

Naturally, as I can imagine in ninety-nine percent of therapy patients, it is your family, or a member thereof, that led you to this point in your life.

What the hell…I decided to read it since there was nothing else for me to do at this hour of the morning without making noise.

Although the writers childhood issues were different than mine, his feelings about them were the same.

As I continued to read his story, how he felt about situations, or better yet how different instances made him feel, I saw parallels in our lives. I almost felt vindicated because I finally have a found someone who shared my feelings.

As he shared different situations in his life, how he was affected, and how his long-time therapist helped him through these bumps in the road, I couldn’t get over our connection.

Have you ever shared something that was troubling you with someone only to have them reply, “You shouldn’t feel that way?” No, you shouldn’t feel that way, you don’t want to feel that way, but yet here we are…and that’s how I feel.

I was in weekly therapy over thirty years ago. For several weeks I focused on one issue and one day the therapist asked me what it would take to resolve this situation. I told her I wanted an apology from an individual. She asked if there was a chance I would that that apology. No. Very nicely she said, “Then let it go.”

Those four little words instantly lifted a heavy weight. I felt light and free. I wonder if someone else would have said those same words would have had the same impact. I don’t know.

Since that time I’ve tried avoiding telling someone what they should and shouldn’t feel but instead, through a short Q&A session, find out why they feel that way. A better understanding of where they’re coming from instead of telling them how they should feel.

That’s what a friend does…

The Garage Sale

In an earlier post I talked about moving my mom from independent living to assisted living. I also mentioned that she was one step short of a hoarder.

Two dumpsters and about thirty-five 55-gallon garbage bags later, what didn’t go with my mom to her new teeny-tiny assisted living apartment, came to my clean, clutter-free house.

I made a pact with myself that whatever boxes I brought back to my house, each item was going to be cleaned before I went back for more. I did this for about 14 days in a row. That meant her collection of throw pillows, sweaters, jackets, afghans, etc., were washed. Each knick-knack, and believe me there were hundreds, kitchen items, cookware and God only knows what else, were all washed in warm soap and water.

As everything was cleaned it went into my basement for sorting and pricing. That took another couple of weeks. I set the garage sales dates for April 26th & 27th, 8am to 3pm. My sister from Michigan was coming to help.

I made arrangements to borrow 5 tables. Each was covered with a nice tablecloth. I think I was hoping that the better everything looked, the more people would buy. Since it’s been about 20 years since I’ve had a garage sale, I didn’t know if anything had changed.

Social media seems to be the way to advertise so I picked three or four different sites and advertised as well as on Nextdoor and Facebook. I created a cute little ad and repeated it on each site about every other day.

Garage Sale signs were ordered from Amazon and strategically placed within blocks of my home. Everything was set up the day before so that we could have a relaxing morning the first day of the sale. Not knowing what to expect, I wasn’t sure if I should have arranged for crowd control. Someone told me that sometimes people show up the night before to get the best stuff or they show up one or two hours before the advertised start time for the same reason.

By 8:30am all I heard was crickets. My sister said where she lives, the crowds start shining around about 9am. Sure as all hell, 9am rolled around and people started arriving.

Very few people bickered on price over the course of two days. Several made comments on how clean and organized everything was. That made me feel that all that work was worth it. I don’t care for small talk but thank God my sister does. Several people just wanted to chit-chat and she obliged all of them. Our husbands graciously helped people who purchased multiple items get everything safely to their cars.

About fifty percent of my mother’s treasures sold and the rest we boxed up as soon as the sale was over and took them to St Vincent de Paul. Two full SUV’s of ‘stuff’. After we got home, we had a nice dinner, were in bed by 8pm, and my sister left the next morning. After stripping beds and doing laundry I spent the afternoon sleeping on the couch.

As God is my witness I will never, ever do this again. The reward isn’t worth the work.

Are You a Pack Rat?

All of us save or collect things. I personally am attracted to anything kitchen related…serving dishes/platters, I have a large collection of scrapers from Pampered Chef, utensils, tablecloths with matching napkins, etc. My sister loves hair-related products and gnomes. My husband collects remote controls, and my brother-in-law collects tools. I’ll stop right here so I don’t throw my entire family under the bus.

I used to collect spoons, salt and pepper shakers, decorative plates, along with teacups and saucers. The only kick in the pants I needed to get rid of those collections was cleaning them several times a year since they were displayed for others to see.

In the last several years I have adopted a minimalist lifestyle. Every six months I go through my closets, drawers, and basement. If I haven’t used something in six months, I sell or donate it.

What really got me thinking about cleaning out my house of things I don’t need or use, or something that others would find questionable if I fell off the face of the earth, was my stepmother’s passing in 1997.

I traveled to my dad’s house to help him go through her belongings and decide what was going into his annual garage sale, what should be tossed, and what was to be donated.

There was a section in the basement of her crafts that was curtained off. I found some unusual things behind those curtains that made me come home and start purging my house of anything that might be questionable.

Fast forward twenty-seven years. A very quick decision was made to put my mom into an assisted living facility. Prior to that, she lived in independent senior living. On the same property is the assisted living facility so it was an easy move to a smaller apartment right across the street…and there was an opening.

Since my sister lives out of state but would come home for the move and to clean up the apartment afterwards, I started packing things. This wasn’t going to be difficult because it was a 2-bedroom apartment and I had just shy of three weeks to get this done.

I was in for a rude awakening. I started by collecting boxes and going by mom every day for one or two hours. Each day I’d pack four to six boxes, bring them home, and wash or clean everything. Each box was the size of a paper box or larger. There is a pile in my basement for rummage sale items, donation items, and items that my mom would still need to use in her new home.

Starting with the kitchen, I did just the upper cupboards and that took fourteen boxes. Also, two 55-gallon trash bags that were half to three quarters full of garbage. By the time I was done with the kitchen, it exceeded twenty boxes and at least three or four more garbage bags. In order to stay on top of this, I needed to clean out each box each day, wash or clean each item, and take the empty boxes back the next day.

I did this for a little over two weeks before my sister arrived to help me. My mom saved everything…and hid it all very well. She had every report card from her school years (she’s almost 94), holy cards from funerals with the obituary stapled to them going back over sixty years, pens, pencils, plastic bags, gift bags, cottage cheese and yogurt containers, bottles and jars, hundreds of photos of people my sister and I didn’t recognize, dozens of rosaries and prayer books, clothes that she hasn’t worn in thirty years, all investment and bank statements, electric company statements, every greeting card she ever received in her life…and the list is endless. I don’t recall ever working this hard every day for three weeks until the move was over, the old apartment was cleaned out, and was scrubbed end to end.

Every part of my body ached. Sometimes I cried because I didn’t understand why she saved so many things. I checked in with my sister on a daily basis before she arrived and told her that she will not believe this. She didn’t believe it…until she saw it. She hid her feelings and anger a lot better than I did.

It’s over. Two dumpster rentals later, at least thirty fifty-five gallon garbage bags, tons of recycling, an expensive lesson with the Got Junk company, numerous cuts and bruises, and many sayings of the Serenity Prayer. We finished yesterday, my sister went home this morning, and at this moment it’s literally ten hours since I’ve gotten off my couch. I’m exhausted and took a very long nap today.

I’m taking some time off from everything for about ten days and then I will start going through the hundreds and hundreds of items in my basement to prepare for a rummage sale in a couple of months. I will also continue going through my closets and drawers to rid my house of non-used items. I don’t want to put my children through what I have just been through for the last three weeks.

And you shouldn’t either. Just think about it.

Let’s Talk Trash!

As I am writing this, it’s six months until my 67th birthday. So, if we go back to when I was about five or six years old, I started thinking about trash…not really trash but recycling.

A new program in our community (which was a small farming community in southeastern Wisconsin) adopted a trial trash receptacle. It was a green metal stand about 4-feet tall. A clear green garbage bag fit into it. At this time in my life, I don’t know the purpose behind it other than it was supposed to replace our round metal trash cans. I can’t remember how long we used it or why it simply disappeared one day, but I think that was the start of me becoming a mini tree-hugger!

Fast forward all these years and as far as I know I’m the only person in my circle of family and friends that recycles the way I do. First, any bottle, can, or jar gets rinsed and then washed in hot soapy water with the other dishes. This also removes the labels. Cardboard boxes get broken down after I remove any of my shipping information. I also recycle the little square plastic containers that my annuals or perennials come in. 

The long and short of it is that I actually take that extra second or two before throwing something away to determine if it’s recyclable.

When you come home from the grocery store, most likely you have the plastic produce bags that hold your apples, oranges, and assorted veggies. I haven’t used those in years because I purchased washable, reusable produce bags to reduce the amount of plastic bags that come into my house. For over twenty years now I’ve used washable canvas grocery bags to avoid all the plastic bags from the grocery store. If any plastic bags do come in my house, they go in a large plastic bag, that when full, is recycled at the local grocery store.

Zip Lock bags. Great invention. Handy. Convenient. Billions are in the landfills every year. When I was a kid, and some of you may remember this, your mom and / or grandma washed bread bags and other plastic bags and reused them. I don’t go that far but I do recycle all of those types of plastic bags…and I purchased silicone zip lock bags, wash them, and reuse them.

All of this sounds good in theory except that most friends and family that I know do not do any of this. Plastic bags go in with the regular trash. Bottles, cans, and boxes go in the regular trash. When I see this while at someone’s house, it bothers me, but I can’t tell other people what to do with their recyclables. I did once and the friends invited me to come to their house once a week, sort through their trash, and separate everything. I declined.

One friend went to far as to ask me if I know what happens to all of my recycled items once the garbage / recycling truck hauls them away. I don’t. I assumed that the truck carrying the recycled items drives to the recycling center, drops them off, and then some process is followed to clean and process these items for reuse. 

In the last several years I’ve had a couple of family members point out to me, as well as show me online articles related to recycling, that only 8% of cardboard, tin, plastic, glass, etc., is actually recycled. EIGHT LOUSY PERCENT!

I’m dumbfounded. First, when you’re me and doing all this label removing, washing, and preparing items for recycling…and nobody else that I know is…I’m spinning my wheels. I’m not doing this because I’m some big Save The Earth heroine. I’m doing it because I was asked to by our community. But…if others aren’t following this to the letter of the law, why should I?

To me this is no different than yielding to the car on your right…or going 55mph if that’s the speed limit…or paying your taxes…or obeying any other God or man-made law in our society. Simply…why wouldn’t you?

All of this has become second nature to me for more than half of my life and I just do it without thinking…but why should I? I’m seriously considering not doing this anymore. The population of the United States is approximately 340 million. If…IF less than one-fourth (for arguments sake) is recycling like I do, the landfills are still filling up and will continue to do so until this is taken seriously. There are more people, more products, more ‘throw-away and buy new’ attitudes than ever before. One person is not going to make a difference. It takes a village.

Ok…I’m off my soapbox. 

Family Reunion

Families are or can be a strange breed. My family isn’t particularly close as a whole, but some family members are closer than others.

I’m jealous of those families that are close, there whenever you need them, see each other on a regular basis, sometimes disagree, but still love each other.

My husband, Bill, comes from a close-knit family. They are Greek and the Greek culture is very family oriented. Bill has two sisters, neither of which he’s ever, even in childhood, had an argument or disagreement with. You could say they live in harmony. They respect each other.

Recently my sister who lives in another state said she and her husband were going to come visit for Labor Day weekend. Great! She also mentioned that her son, his girlfriend, and his children were planning to come for the same weekend. They live out of state also. Coincidentally my oldest son who lives in Miami said they were planning to come for the same weekend. This was an absolute first on every level.

Hells bells…it sounds like a family reunion.

My other son who lives about 45 minutes from me, has a beautiful home on a lake and it was decided that the weekends events would be held there. Let the planning begin.

The lake house has needed some updating for some time and my son just never felt an urgency to get it done. Now he felt the urgency.

Immediately my mind went to the menu and helping my son get his house in order. Being a single guy, it’s always picked up but with family having never seen the house, we wanted to make sure it was in tiptop shape.

While my son was making plans with his contractor for a few projects, I jumped in by stripping the house of almost anything that wasn’t nailed down and washing it. I stripped every bed, took down almost all the curtains, grabbed very pillow, throw pillow, pillow sham, comforter, and anything else that I felt needed washing.

Over the course of two weeks, I drove back and forth a couple times a week picking up more laundry and dropping off what had already been washed and hung outdoors to smell absolutely amazing.

My son even went so far as hiring a cleaning crew to clean his house top to bottom. There is also a large living space above the garage, as well as a sunroom on the front of the house facing the lake. We met at the house a couple of times, moved furniture, hung pictures, and found places for all the extras he was purchasing.

The contractor installed cabinets and a sink to make a kitchenette in the room above the garage. New floor tile and walls went into the bathroom up there also. There is a small wall in the kitchen of the main house needed that ‘something’ extra and wainscotting was installed and trimmed out. A tufted storage bench was placed against that wall with some beach house-related throw pillows. The contractors wife painted the guest room in the main house as well as the bathroom in the in the room above the garage.

We sprayed everything for weeds, cleaned up the beach / firepit area by the lake, took inventory of lifejackets for the water activities, and ordered any extras that were needed.

Two days before the ‘reunion’, kayaks and paddleboards were delivered, put in the water and tied to the pier. The pontoon boat was gassed up, cleaned up, and ready to go. A trampoline and jungle gym were installed in the backyard for all the kids.

Everything was beginning to take shape. It’s amazing what you can all get done in a short period of time when you’re on a mission.

My son and I were exhausted the Friday before Labor Day because in addition to all the preparations, I still worked two days that week, my son still worked, my mother had 2 dental emergencies, and I still had my own house to clean and meals to make. Oh, and I had to bake two cakes for the weekend and make three salads for our main event on Saturday. An absolute labor of love.

Friday I drove to Chicago to pick up my son and his wife, my sister arrived at my house, my nephew and his family arrived at my house later in the day…and then we all hopped back in our cars to head out to the lake for a good old-fashioned fish fry followed by fishing from the pier and a bonfire.

Saturday. It was finally here. Back in the cars and headed out to the lake for breakfast. The afternoon was food, drink, swimming, water sports, and whatever you wanted to do. A cousin and her husband stopped by for a few hours to visit with family they haven’t seen in years. Evening came with a pontoon boat ride to see the sunset on the other end of the lake, a bonfire, and fireworks display compliments of my son. It was simply magical.

The weather the entire weekend could not have been more perfect. Everybody had fun, relaxed, laughed, talked, and compliments flew to my son and I for all the work we put into setting this up. There was even mention of doing this every year. Nothing, absolutely nothing, went wrong.

It truly was one of the best weekends of my life.

It’s Been a Year Since I Retired!

I started thinking about retiring a year before it actually happened. I didn’t want to be one of those people who retired without a game plan.

Here’s what I wanted to do. Starting the day AFTER my last day of work I was going to walk a couple of miles every day, learn to play Pickleball, spend more time taking care of my yard/garden, paint my bedroom, clean out closets, travel, join Cemeterians (a local group that goes to various cemeteries to clean and stabilize old headstones), take a cake-decorating class, and go to the shooting range more often.

What I did do the day after I retired was to leave on a 2-3 week road trip with my husband. Since this was the first time taking a road trip with no time constraints, I envisioned taking back roads and actually seeing something besides the scenery flying by at 75 miles per hour. We did NOT take back roads and everything flew by at 75 miles per hour.

The first 8 days were spent in Miami with my son and his family. Their Nanny was on a trip and we were the ‘replacements’. Going home was going to be more leisurely with some stops that I was very excited about.

One stop was going to be two days in Charleston SC because I wanted to see the historic old homes. A guided tour was booked with horse-drawn carriage for the full experience. What I got was checking into our hotel room, a storm warning that prompted the tour company to cancel our tour, and leaving the next morning for my second planned stop. Mount Airy NC.

SO many years of my life has been invested in The Andy Griffith Show that I felt it was my duty as a fan of the show to see Andy’s home town. On the way we saw Pilot Mountain…Mount Pilot in the show. From the minute we drove into Mount Airy, it absolutely felt like home. There’s something about that southern drawl, “yes ma’am, no ma’am,” that makes you feel at home. The people were over-the-top friendly. I found the ‘sheriff’s office’, took pictures sitting at Andy’s desk in the courthouse, saw Emmett’s Fix-It Shop, and the mayor’s office. We stopped at a diner where pictures of the entire cast of the show hung on the walls. To say the least, I was in hog heaven.

From there we headed to Advance NC to visit some friends for one night with plans to head to Memphis for some blues and ribs, and then onto Dyess AR to see the birthplace of Johnny Cash. You see, I was country when country wasn’t cool. After that we were headed home.

We did NOT get to Memphis or Dyess. We left Advance and drove straight through all the way home. There were more storm warnings that we wanted to avoid and we were running out of steam. Johnny’s birthplace will still be there the next time, as will the blues and ribs.

Once I got back home, here’s what I didn’t do…walk a couple of miles every day, paint my bedroom, join Cemeterians, or take a cake-decorating class.

In the last year I have been to Miami every other month for a week to spend time with my son and his family. I also spent three weeks in Kefalonia Greece with family. I’m working two part time jobs…one every Tuesday and Thursday morning, and the other every Monday and Friday morning. The latter one is slowing fading away which is fine with me. Wednesday’s is my day off and is spent trying new recipes. We also wintered in Naples FL this past January and thoroughly enjoyed that. I even went kayaking for the first time with a tour group through the mangroves…and that is now off of my bucket list. On the way home from that trip, we booked the condo again for next January. Being a Type A personality, I have found the adjustment of going from working 40 hours per week to about 20 hours per week much easier than I expected. Little projects around the house have kept me busy also. Some of those projects were necessary and others I simply pulled out of thin air.

What has been on my mind is that this is the last chapter of my life, which sometimes gives me pause that this is actually the last chapter of my life. With that said, it’s time to start thinking about walking those couple of miles every day, continue with Pickleball since I managed to have 2 lessons in Florida, go to the shooting range, and continue to travel. I’m still on the every-other-month rotation in Florida, going to Greece in June (our final time…this will be our 6th time in the last 13 years), and hopefully another road trip out west this fall to Glacier National Park.

In the past year, all of these trips, jobs, adventures, family, friends, and dreams have made me realize just how blessed I am considering that a short 20 years ago I didn’t have two nickels to rub together. My husband and I are celebrating our 10th anniversary this year and he is my biggest cheerleader and support system.

I do not look in the rear view mirror at what could have been, should have been, or would have been. God put eyes in front of our heads to look forward…not backward. We cannot change the past and to be honest, all the good and bad things from my past have made me who I am today. I like who I am. I’m living my best life in this last chapter.

It’s All Greek to Me!

Many people, myself included, think that going on vacation to Greece is out of their reach. I’m here to tell you it’s not.

Greece averages 35+ million visitors per year. That many people wouldn’t be going there if it was outrageously expensive.

My first opportunity to visit Greece was in 2010. My husband is Greek and has 4 first-cousins who live there. One of his cousins, along with his wife, came to visit in 2009. They used to live in our community, him coming from Greece to work for a few years, and she was an American-born Greek who lived in our city. They met while he was here, married, and moved back to Greece where they have been ever since.

While here, they invited us to come visit. It was a dream come true. We spent about 4 days in Athens seeing the sites, and then rented a car to visit the family in southwest Greece. There we spent 5 days with the family before heading back to Athens to catch a flight home.

My sister and her husband came along on this trip. I love traveling with them and could not imagine experiencing my dream of visiting Greece without my sister.

Our accommodations in Athens was a two-bedroom, two-bath apartment that I found on VRBO. The cost was $400-$500 for the 4 days we were there so that was about $200-$250 per couple. Our rental car for the entire trip was about $800, or $400 per couple. We split the cost of fuel. In southwest Greece there is a beautiful rental next door to ‘the family’ with two bedrooms / two bathrooms, that we again split and I honestly don’t remember what the cost was. Our greatest expense was the flights. Since then prices have gone up but if you travel with family or friends, it’s affordable.

Since 2010 we’ve been back there 3 more times…2015, 2019, and 2021. We are scheduled to go again this year.

The fact is that if I had not met and married my ‘Greek Man’, I most likely would have never been able to, or thought I’d be able to, go to Greece. The first two trips were spent on the mainland and the trip in 2019 we spent some of our time on Santorini. My husband’s sister joined us for this time so while planning this trip, I wanted to get to at least one island. Everything I ever dreamed of related to Greece was on Santorini.

I’m sure almost everyone has seen pictures of the Greek islands, the blue water, the white buildings with blue domes / roofs. The mainland did not show me the pictures I had in my mind but Santorini did. And yes, the blue water that you see in pictures is actually that blue.

While researching Santorini, I saw pictures of rentals, houses and restaurants nestled in the hillsides overlooking the sea. The pictures I saw are what was in my minds eye and I knew I had to see it this time. In my research, I found a restaurant that had good reviews, amazing views, and an excellent menu. I emailed them to set a date and time for dinner. The day we arrived for dinner, the restaurant was virtually empty because of the time of day. Most Europeans eat later in the evening…unlike this American who eats dinner at 5. The host told us to pick any table we wanted. As I walked along the outer row of tables overlooking the sea and the Caldera, I chose a table. As soon as I sat down and really noticed the view, I burst into tears at the amazing beauty that I never dreamed I would see. It was more than breath-taking.

Our trip in 2021 included my husband’s son and his wife. We did the usual ‘Athens tour’ so they could see the Parthenon and then we headed to Kyllini (a port town on the western coast) to catch a ferry to Zakynthos – an island in the Ionian Sea. I found amazing accommodations for us in a two-bedroom / two-bath house out in the country. Not far from town, new construction, immaculate, swimming pool, garage, security gate and system, and amazing owners. With our rental car we toured a lot of the island, ate amazing food, shopped, and just explored.

This year we’re going with more family members and will be visiting yet another island in the Ionian Sea. I just can’t seem to get enough of Greece. I love the people, the culture, the food, the weather…and everything else they have to offer.

Greece is heaven on earth! Life is short…book a trip!

I am Retiring….

It’s time to retire. Well…not really. I’m still capable of working several more years but have been thinking of retirement for about a year now.

No…I do NOT have that million+ dollars ‘they’ say we should have before we retire. In fact, I’m not even in the same galaxy as that. I have faith, am not an alarmist, don’t worry about anything, and if history is any indication of the future, I will land on my feet.

The first time retirement popped into my head, I had no idea how one goes about retiring. I knew I had to make sure I could financially survive month-to-month, had to have a game plan of what I was going to do each day, but most importantly I wanted to maintain my current lifestyle. Please keep in mind that none of this is financially motivated. The ONLY thing I knew for sure was that I didn’t want to go backwards in my lifestyle once I retired.

Without telling anyone about my plan, including my husband, I had to do the obvious…check out how much I was going to get from social security, a very small pension from a job many years ago, and my itty-bitty savings (401k). I wanted it to equal what I was currently bringing home each month with my job.

Just to back peddle a little bit, I was not raised to think about money or taught to save money. We were middle class people growing up and I never had an inkling as to how much money my parents made or what their bills were. I knew my mom was frugal because she clipped coupons for every grocery store in town and shopped at each store for those items. My mom sewed most of our clothes too. But I never heard my folks talk about money.

College was not a word that was EVER mentioned in our house. My dad was the main bread winner and my mother raised my sister and I to be housewives. We learned how to set a proper table, scrub a floor, get stains out of clothes, sew, vacuum, dust, iron, etc. We were going to be proper housewives…not executives in a multi-million dollar corporation.

With that said, neither my sister or myself had a goal to achieve other than getting married, having kids, and keeping house.

In 1993 I had an office job but wanted more. I went to the local community college for a 3-night ‘test’ to determine strengths and weaknesses so you could find out what career to pursue. At the end of those 3 days the results told me to either be an office manager or a travel agent due to my organizational skills. Since I always heard that travel agents don’t make any money but have wonderful travel opportunities, I decided to go to night school for office management.

Same community college for Administrative Office Management and Leadership Development. Fabulous teacher. First and second semester my GPA was 4.0. I was thrilled. The company I was working for offered tuition reimbursement so I got my first year paid for 100%.

During that first year, a gal that I worked with told me that she bought office supplies from a small family-owned business and they were looking for an office manager. I met with them and everything clicked. I was hired. In my mind, experience is the best teacher so I decided not to go back for the second year at the community college.

I learned a lot but working for a very tight-knit family business had it’s drawbacks. Their business practices, in my opinion, were from another century and although I was with them for about five years, it was a difficult five years personally and professionally. With three months of savings to cover all bills, I turned in my resignation and left.

After a week of sitting on the couch in a daze wondering about this bad decision I just made, I went to Cancun with friends for a week. It was just what the doctor ordered. Once I got back I started job hunting not realizing at that time that office managers were a dying breed. Company’s were exploring different methods of covering the tasks that office managers always handled. But lo and behold, I found a position at a small one-girl real estate appraisal firm about 5 minutes from my house.

Loved the job, the location, and the people I worked with. Then the 2008 real estate market collapsed and real estate appraisals were dwindling. After 2 pay cuts I decided to look for another job.

I found one in short order and it was a start-up company looking for an office manager. To this day, it was my dream job. We grew fast and furious, I was valued, I had a lot of responsibility and when a new office was opening in Chicago, I was tasked with getting the new office up and running. Back and forth almost weekly on the train to Chicago. Loved every minute of it. Got the office going. To give you an idea of how fast we were growing, it was my responsibility to purchase the Christmas presents for our employees. In late August I found the perfect give and needed 28 of this item. By October I needed a total of 60. In hindsight the job was getting away from me and the HR director, and it was decided that we hire a controller. I was involved in the hiring process. Hired a gal and in less than a month I was let go because she was taking over my responsibilities. That was a kick in the teeth that took a long time to recover from.

Fall off the horse, you get back up. Found my current position and now it’s time to say goodbye.

So why I am retiring before I really need to? There are several reasons. I don’t respect the owner as I find some of business practices immoral and unethical. When I told someone about this, they replied, “Everybody does that.” Like my mom used to say, “If everybody jumped off of a bridge, would you?” Just because everybody does something doesn’t make it right. Another reason is my husband is 10 years older than I am and has been retired for about 8 years now. We want to travel more. I want to continue with some hobbies and try out others. I did secure a job for one day a week that I’m exited about.

There are many reasons people finally decide to retire. These are mine and this is my story. I know I’m going to be fine and I’m really excited about this next, and last, chapter of my life.

We Share a Common Bond

Olga is from Columbia, South America. I am from Wisconsin. She speaks very little English. I do not speak Spanish at all. Well…ok…I know one phrase. “uno cerveza por favor” (more beer please). I only learned that from numerous vacations to Mexico.

Olga lives in Miami and I’m in Wisconsin.

So what is our common bond? My grandchildren…JP (boy, age 2) & GK (girl, age 1). She is their Nanny and she is absolutely wonderful.

I have always prided myself as a multi-tasker, very organized, great cook / baker, excellent housekeeper, and always on top of my game. That is until I met Olga. She could run circles around me.

Olga plays with them as I would. Kiss’s and hugs them as I would. Makes sure they’re well fed with fruits, veggies, and proteins…as I would. And she loves them…as I do. She speaks softly to them either in Spanish or using the little bit of English she knows. JP cannot pronounce ‘Olga’ so he calls her ‘Olda’.

I have had the pleasure of ‘tag-teaming’ with Olga twice in the last two months and will be ‘tag-teaming’ with her again in about two weeks. I call it ‘tag-teaming’ because without a lot of communication, we get the job done for my son and his wife. She handles GK and I take care of JP. My son and his wife are both executives at their respective company’s, therefore, a good share of maintaining order in the house and caring for the children, falls to Olga…and then to both of us when I’m there to help out. I help out when my DIL travels for business and is gone for three or four days at a time. Since Olga leaves at 5pm, I’m there to make supper, play cribbage with my son, give the kids their baths, and get them down for the night…just as my DIL would do if she were there.

Through our very obvious language barrier, we have a found a way to communicate. She looks up words on her phone in Spanish and translates to English and occasionally I will do the same or I will motion for her to follow me to show her something. Last week while we were tag-teaming, I knew one of the little projects I wanted to accomplish was to reorganize the linen closet. While explaining to Olga a project I was going to tackle in the garage, she said the word ‘towels’…and I knew she meant linen closet. We were both on the same wave length and started laughing. While I was working on the linen closet, she was tackling the kids closet that was overflowing with lots of clothes and shoes thanks to wonderful grandparents, aunts, uncles, and friends.

Olga arrives each morning at 8am. During the day she is nothing short of a calm tornado, if that makes sense. She moves through the house like a Ninja. Olga is a quiet, middle-aged woman who does not have any children of her own but has been a Nanny for many years. The first thing she does when she arrives each morning is to greet the kids with hugs and kisses, and then her day starts. Daily she empties all the waste baskets in the house, makes the beds, starts the daily laundry, empties the dishwasher, and in between attends to whatever the kids need. JP attends a morning pre-school program so it’s just Olga and GK. When the kids are not sleeping or eating, she is always, always on the floor playing with them.

When I make the daily run to the grocery store, Olga has a sixth-sense when I’m returning because she’s always coming out the front door when I arrive to help carry in the groceries. This woman just amazes me. (Maybe she’s got a GPS tracker on the car??? LOL)

There is a car seat for each child in her car so she occasionally takes them to the park. Sometimes she has to pick up JP at school and needs to take GK along. Once it’s lunch time, she makes a wonderful lunch of leftovers or she whips up something she knows each child likes…and makes sure they have fruit at each meal.

Once the kids are down for their afternoon naps, I tell Olga to grab a coffee (espresso) and we both sit on couch, try to have a conversation with our phones nearby for assistance, and just relax from the hectic morning. I do not know how many years she’s been here or anything about her life in Columbia. I know she is married to a man from Peru whom I have met. He is very cordial and friendly.

I am so happy that my grandchildren have such a wonderful Nanny in their lives. There is peace of mind from many miles away that the kids are well cared for and loved all thanks to Olga.

Ding – Dong – Ditch!

Several weeks ago I was standing in my driveway when a boy about the age of 9 was on the sidewalk. He saw me. It didn’t matter. He picked up one of the decorative rocks – that I stupidly paid $2 each for – out of my flower bed, and threw it at a hornets nest in a nearby tree. It all happened so fast that I couldn’t stop him from throwing the rock.

However, I did ask him to pick the rock up and put it back where he found it and he just ran away. Am I surprised? No. Kids have no fear or respect of adults or authority today.

Since the rock he threw landed in the street, it cracked in half. I was angry that the rock was broke and that he ignored my request to pick it up and put it where he found it.

Being we have the technology that we do today, I went to my security camera and captured his image. Again, using technology, I posted his picture on our community website with a description of what he did. I asked if anyone knew him because I would like to talk to his parent(s).

Surprise, surprise! I received three responses from adult neighbors telling me to forget about it because ‘boys will be boys’. All three said the same thing. Now I want to tan the backside of those neighbors for being so ignorant to today’s problem children and lack of parenting and respect.

What prompted me to write about this today was something I saw on Facebook earlier. In a small community about 45 minutes north of my home the local police chief posted a picture of a young man wearing a baseball cap and a mask over the lower part of his face.

Apparently this young man ran through a neighborhood at 11:15pm and rang everybody’s doorbell and ran…hence, Ding-Dong-Ditch…as the chief called it.

The young man was caught on someone’s doorbell camera and the chief is asking if anyone recognizes him. Why? The chief said that people were unnecessarily woken up and he wants to sit down and talk to this young man.

I burst out laughing when I read that. He wants to sit down and talk to this young man??? Seriously?????

With the lack of respect today, that kid will simply tell the chief what he wants to hear, he will apologize and tell the chief he will never do it again, and as he’s walking out of the cop shop, he will most likely flip off the chief.

Being who I am, I replied to the chief’s post on Facebook and told him about my situation from a few weeks ago. I ended that reply with, “Chief…boys will be boys.”

I gave him the same kick in the teeth I got from my community.

All of these little incidents may be insignificant but I can tell you that a dear price would have been paid for these things when I was a kid. And if an adult told you to do something, you did it. There was fear and respect…and the kids today have none of that.

I know, I know…I’m preaching to the choir.

Am I Really Getting Old? Yes…and I like it!

As a kid I remember adults telling me that the older I got, the faster the days, months and years will fly by. It’s true.

Today is September 1, 2021 and many kids are going back to school. That includes my twelve year-old granddaughter. I refer to her as Miss V. Her mother texted me a picture of her standing on the fireplace hearth at home and holding a sign that said ‘First Day of 7th Grade.’

That simply cannot be. It was yesterday that I received a frantic call from my son that the ‘normal delivery’ was now going to be an emergency C-section. I left work and raced to the hospital. Everybody was fine. My son was exhausted from being up all night. I sent him off to get some sleep. Mom was sleeping from being up all night and the C-section. That left me and Miss V…who was also sleeping.

A nurse came in and said I was welcome to stay so I sat in the rocking chair next to the bed. The nurse handed me my granddaughter and a doll-sized bottle of formula. I held her for about 8 hours with intermittent feedings and diaper changes. The hospital room was almost dark except for the TV that was quietly on.

So now fast forward to a 7th grader, aged twelve…but going on 30. She says words that I have never heard of so I Google them. Miss V is strong-willed, knows what she does and does not like, and although her parents as well as myself are outgoing, gregarious people, she has a shy side.

This past May I was proud to perform the wedding ceremony for my oldest granddaughter, Savannah. She is 21. Again, it is simply not possible that she is 21.

Since I always wanted to be the type of grandma that I didn’t have, I made sure I was involved in her life as much as I could considering she lived 5+ hours away. I surprised her at a school event one time, and I showed up for her prom so I could personally see her in the beautiful gown she chose. She entered the Wisconsin State Fair Culinary Challenge with me for several years and won ribbons each time. For her high school graduation I told her to pick anywhere in the world she wanted to go. She chose Italy because at the time she was learning about Pompeii and Mount Vesuvius. Off we went on the adventure of a lifetime…and it was her first time on an airplane.

I doubt that her date for prom (whom I will refer to as Mr Sunshine) was as excited to see me as she was. Savannah’s parents and myself followed Savannah and her date to the high school for the dance. He got out of his truck and started to walk towards the school entrance WITHOUT opening Savannah’s door and escorting her into the school.

Since I’m old and believe in manners and courtesy, I made Savannah and her parents stop just short of the school doors and wait. Wait for what? Her date walked into the high school without once glancing back to see where she was. I don’t think so bucko!

We stood there for maybe 2 minutes and he finally came outside to see where we all were. He walked towards us and I told him that he should have escorted her into the school and held the door for her. By this time, other prom attendees and their families were gathering around. I told Mr Sunshine to hold the door for our group and while he was standing there, he can hold the door for all the other folks that were standing there also.

I’m sure Savannah wanted to crawl in a hole but I know that her folks were on my side. I was wondering what pack of wolves raised him with out manners.

With that said, I may be getting old but there’s always a lesson to teach younger people. I’m glad I have the respect, manners, courtesy and common sense that the kids today don’t have. That’s ok…I’ll share mine with them just like I did with Mr Sunshine.

It Was Shall We Say…A Yellow Day

The skies were blue, the sun was shining, and a soft breeze filled the day.

This celebration was at the home of one of Jim’s sisters. A beautiful old Tudor, on a hill, and surrounded by a variety of mature shade trees. As I sat in a beautiful floral-covered chair under one of those stately trees, at short intervals folks were walking up the driveway. Most brought lawn chairs…many brought a dish to pass…lots of ice and coolers, babies and toddlers…and most wore yellow. The driveway and the yard was dotted with bouquets of yellow balloons…you didn’t need the address to find this house. You just looked for yellow.

Yellow was Jim’s favorite color. This gathering of family and friends from near and far, came to celebrate the life that was taken from us on May 31, 2020.

As I sat and listened to the chatter, watched kids laughing and playing made-up games, babies giggling or fussing, the distractions made no difference to anyone. Friends or not…this was a family.

Soon it was time to eat and in short bursts adults and children walked up the brick stairs to the house, got in line, still chatting, and waited for their turn at the amazing buffet that was contributed to by all. On the dining room table was a vase of yellow flowers, a bowl of lemons and yellow peppers, a candy dish with lemon drops, and other treats of yellow. The kids found this treat table in no time at all.

While everyone was enjoying the feast, as with all large gatherings, it got quiet. Soon things picked up again after tummies were full. Children running and laughing, babies cooing, and new small groups of folks starting up new conversations.

Shortly after dinner, there was a gathering in the make-shift theatre to watch a presentation of Jim’s life on a big screen. There were tears before the presentation started. Everyone knew it was time to see a tribute to Jim’s life and we didn’t want to see it on the screen. We wanted Jim there to make us laugh, to tease the kids, to hug loved ones, and to take the pain of this loss away.

What do we take away from an afternoon like this? We take the new stories and jokes we heard that day. We take the new memories we made while recognizing and honoring one hell of a nice guy that is so painfully missed among us.

Jim would have really liked this party…

Family…It Isn’t Always The Walton’s

There are topics that some people prefer not to discuss. Politics, religion and salary to name a few. I’m sure there are more but I was raised to not discuss those three topics with anyone outside of our four walls. Today everything is a free-for-all from slamming our political leaders to coming clean about your thoughts on organized religion…or just simply not being a believer at all. I remember years ago hearing about citizens in other countries being thrown in jail for saying anything negative about their leaders. Nothing would satisfy me more than going on social media and letting everyone know how I feel about certain subjects but I’m not strong enough to handle the backlash. Because of this I keep my mouth shut.

I am still old school about ‘what is said within these walls, stays within these walls’. Today nobody has a filter on their mouth because of ‘freedom of speech’ and the fact that nothing will happen to you personally if you share your views. Except on Facebook. You can go to ‘Facebook Jail’ for saying the wrong thing or posting the wrong type of picture. Hell, if I said everything on my mind, I’m sure I would get a personal call from Mark Zuckerberg offering me a monthly stipend to stay off of all social media…including Facebook.

There is somewhat of a taboo subject that is rarely addressed. Family. Every Mother’s Day and Father’s Day social media is inundated with tributes for having the greatest Mom or Dad on the planet. There is also Sibling’s Day which draws out millions of posts on social media about how much everyone loves their siblings.

It is rare that you see a comment from someone who isn’t actually fond of a certain member of their family. Why? Because of the backlash. That backlash is coming from people who can’t even fathom having a Mom, Dad or sibling that doesn’t deserve a nod on any of the holidays created for family members. If they grew up in a house with parents like ‘John and Olivia Walton’, then so did everybody else.

Out of respect, most family’s keep their mouths shut publicly about a relative that they are stuck with. Since I read the local obituaries several days a week, I get a feel for what kind of person the deceased was…and since every obituary is written by family members, the deceased was nothing short of a gift from God, and if given the chance, they could probably walk on water. There are no scathing obituaries because family’s aren’t going to spend hundreds of dollars to announce that their family member was hated and / or despised. They’re family…you’re stuck with them. While they’re alive, you may have to tolerate them for holiday’s and an occasional family wedding, but now that they’re gone, it’s simply good riddance. Forget the obituary…let’s take that money and go out and celebrate that they’re gone.

I have seen the following obituaries before because they are a novelty. Why? Because someone actually had the balls to speak their mind publicly about the deceased. While these are novelties, people who grew up with ‘John and Olivia Walton’ are appalled by this.

Kathleen D She married Dennis D. in 1957 and had two children, Gina and Jay. Kathleen became pregnant by her husband’s brother, Lyle D., and moved to California. She will not be missed by Gina and Jay, and they understand that this world is a better place without her.  

Dolores A Her family will remember Dolores and amongst ourselves we will remember her in our own way, which were mostly sad and troubling times throughout the years. We may have some fond memories of her and perhaps we will think of those times too. But I truly believe at the end of the day ALL of us will really only miss what we never had, a good and kind mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. I hope she is finally at peace with herself. As for the rest of us left behind, I hope this is the beginning of a time of healing and learning to be a family again.

Leslie Ray C was born in Galveston, Texas on November 20, 1942 and passed away January 30, 2017, which was 29 years longer than expected and much longer than he deserved. Leslie was surprisingly intelligent, however he lacked ambition and motivation to do anything more than being reckless, wasteful, squandering the family savings and fantasizing about get rich quick schemes. Leslie’s hobbies included being abusive to his family, expediting trips to heaven for the beloved family pets and fishing, which he was less skilled with than the previously mentioned. Leslie’s life served no other obvious purpose, he did not contribute to society or serve his community and he possessed no redeeming qualities besides quick witted sarcasm which was amusing during his sober days.

What can we learn and take away from this? We live in a troubling world and society. Be kind. Let someone cut in front of you that appears to be in a hurry. Family’s are made up of all different personalities with likes and dislikes that might not be the same as yours. Every now and then a few feathers get ruffled and when they do, talk it out and put it behind you.

I Am In Love With…..

The Durrells.

Let me start by saying that I only like feel-good shows or comedies. I don’t care for any program or movie that involves things blowing up, car chases or bad things happening to good people. I think you get the picture.

I also hope that I learn something from the shows / movies I watch. Here’s a great example. About 25 years ago my cousin asked me to join her in entering the Culinary Challenge at State Fair. I never thought of entering a county fair much less THE State Fair. I’m a reasonably good baker / cook but…I took the challenge.

I wanted to only enter one item to see how the process works and to find out if this is something I would like to do in upcoming years. So many categories to choose from…where do I start.

My pecan pie has always been a hit so I decided to enter that, but what could I do to make it special. Then I remembered an episode of The Walton’s that I watched years before where Grandma entered a pecan pie into the Jefferson County Fair. She added one tablespoon of whiskey to the pie. That was her secret ingredient. What the heck…I had nothing to lose. But I did one better…

I had some honest-to-goodness moonshine from the hills of Tennessee in my possession. I’ll just add one tablespoon of that.

On judging day I dropped my pie off and went to work. It was a couple of weeks later that I received something in the mail from State Fair and it was a blue ribbon. My pie actually took first place.

I guess adding booze to a recipe is something I learned on TV. 😉

So which show am I in love with? It’s currently playing on Amazon Prime and it’s called The Durrells in Corfu. It’s a four-season series, takes place in Corfu Greece, and it’s about a family from England in the mid to late 1930’s who moves to Corfu. And it’s based on a true account of this family journey written through the eyes of the youngest son, Gerry.

Greece holds a special place in my heart. My husband is Greek and we’ve been to Greece three times in the last eleven years and we’re going back in three months. And we’re going back as a big family trip in June of 2022.

I’ve never been to Corfu but enjoyed watching the show and seeing familiar things that probably occur on every island that is a part of Greece.

So what could I possibly have learned from The Durrells? I learned the acceptance and patience from Louisa, the desire to be something great from Larry, the hard exterior and soft interior of Leslie, the dreams of Margo, and the passion and beliefs of Gerry. Most important I watched a love, friendship, and respect grow between Spiro and Louisa.

I finished watching the series for the second time last night and was still excited at the beginning of each episode and still cried at the end because I didn’t like the ending (although it actually happened) and because I didn’t want the series to end.

We have so many series and movies available to us through Amazon Prime, Netflix, and many others but I know I will come back to The Durrells again. I urge all of you to watch this heart-warming, funny and amazing family.

Why Do I Talk?

This question is a standing joke between my sister and I. Why? Because we don’t know why we talk because nobody listens.

Anything I told someone today is a repeat of yesterday.

If my husband tells me he’s going to the grocery store tomorrow, he will then ask if there’s anything I need. I reply with the one or two items I need. Usually there’s nothing because I stop at the grocery store a couple of times a week. In the event I need something, I tell him what it is. He replies, ‘OK’.

The next morning I’m sitting at my desk and my cellphone rings. My husband calls every morning to say hi and see what’s going on for the day. Before he hangs up, he asks what it is again I wanted from the grocery store. Since he knows he’s got a bad memory, he should have written it down. Why do I talk?

I make appointments for my boss with customers for him to meet. The appointments are documented on the Outlook calendar. If a customer tells me that he needs to ring the side doorbell instead of the front doorbell, I write that in the notes. If the customer tells me that they have dogs and would like to secure them before he arrives, they will ask that he call them when he’s on his way. I write that in the notes. Out of the four to six appointments that he has daily, there is at least one who gives me special instructions that I document in the notes. So this is a regular occurrence.

Before printing out the calendar appointment for my boss, I use the highlight feature for these special instructions so he can see them. Then I print out the appointment, in color, so the bright yellow highlighted notes are visible. He comes back after the appointment and tells me he didn’t know he was to go to the side door or that he was supposed to call while on his way. Why do I talk?

I call my mother 3 times a week to check up on her. During the conversation I may mention that I’m getting my things together for an upcoming trip or I met friends for dinner the night before, etc. Then she asks me why I didn’t tell her this before. I did. I told her this 2 days ago when I called. She denies I did. Why do I talk?

Since I have power of attorney for my mom, her doctor’s office calls once a month with the results of her blood test. She goes monthly for bloodwork because she’s on blood thinners. Each month they call and leave a message on my mother’s machine asking her to call back to get her results. Mom then sends me an email asking me to call the doctor’s office and get the results. Mom doesn’t like talking to the girls from the doctors office because they talk too loud and too fast…even though she used to ask them to talk slower and quieter. Why does she talk?

Anyway, after I get the email from my mom about calling the doctor’s office, I make the call. When I get the gal on the phone with the test results, I mention that they’re supposed to call me with the results and not my mom. The gal always checks the computer and says, “You’re right…sorry about that.” This has been going on each month for over a year and each month my mom gets the call, I get the email, and I tell the doctors office that I’m supposed to be called. Why do I talk?

My granddaughter (age 12 – straight A student since first grade) is standing up in a wedding in May. Her dress was ordered before Christmas and I’ve been asking her almost weekly if the dress came. The answer is always no. Since my granddaughter spends every Tuesday afternoon with me and we have dinner together, this is pretty much a week question about the dress. Yesterday (Tuesday) I asked about the dress again…because it really should have been here by now. She told me it came in a month ago. I asked why she didn’t tell me this a month ago when I’ve been asking every week, if not every other week. “I forgot” she replied. I needed to know this because if the dress needed alterations, I was going to take her in to get this done. Why do I talk?

This goes on every day with almost everyone I know. As a society, are people not listening when others talk? Are there so many other things on our minds that most things people say go in one ear and out the other?

I’ve been told several times that I am the exception to the rule. Anyone who asks me for a recipe, to meet them for breakfast / lunch / dinner at a restaurant, to pick up something from the store, and anything else, I immediately write it down so I don’t forget. If I don’t have paper or pen, I send myself an email from my cellphone. Since I check my emails daily, I will see it.

But it doesn’t stop there. I don’t just scroll thru those email reminders. I take care of each one immediately and then delete it.

This is the same courtesy I want extended to me.

2020 In My Rear View Mirror

A short, VERY short, eleven months ago we all heard about Coronavirus / Covid 19. If we hunkered down for two weeks, it would all be over. I actually wonder if the entire world stopped for two weeks, would this virus be in our rear view mirror. Unfortunately we will never know.

What are the facts? The numbers are inflated but we don’t know to what degree. Some hospitals are hearing crickets chirp and others are busting at the seams. Unemployment is at a record high but I see Help Wanted signs everywhere I go. Some folks still haven’t seen that first unemployment check. Tons of commercial buildings with For Sale or Lease signs are on the front lawn because so many people are working from home. Malls are filing for bankruptcy protection. Businesses have closed like never before. A second stimulus check never materialized. At times things got better and the ‘rules’ relaxed. Then things got worse and the ‘rules’ were reinforced. The list is endless.

I had Covid in February, it came in two waves four weeks apart, and I didn’t know what Covid was. The rumblings of this virus were in their infancy. All the symptoms were there and to be kind, I will not share everything that my body went through. Everything I did to ‘relieve’ the symptoms of what I thought was bronchitis, only made things worse because at the time what we should or shouldn’t take weren’t known yet. Let’s just say I took EVERYTHING that is now known to be bad for Covid. Only one day I prayed for death because I knew it was going to relieve what I was going through.

Shortly after the second wave hit, I took Prednisone and within three hours I was whistling Dixie! I slept a lot, had plenty of fluids, rested, and got better from there.

This is only my story and I know there’s many more stories out there. I’m still working because I work for an essential business. This year has flown by for me and I’m looking forward to 2021 for several reasons.

First, I believe several vaccines will be available. Second, I’ve got several trips planned for next year with the guarantee of refunds if I need to cancel due to Covid. Third, I simply cannot imagine next year being worse than this year. That doesn’t mean it can’t be…I just cannot imagine it.

This year I saw people being kinder, helpful, and more considerate than ever before. If you’re going through a difficult time in your life and you’re the only one going through it, you can bitch to the high heavens about it. But when the entire world is going through it, it puts things into perspective. There is no ‘Oh Poor Me’ because you’re not alone.

I have a deeper faith this year than ever before and I pray for everyone that the New Year brings hope, love, charity, kindness, health, and happiness. God Bless 2021.

Are You Blessed…or Are You Lucky?

Exactly what is the difference? If you consider yourself blessed, does that mean you have a strong faith and a connection with God? If you consider yourself lucky, does that mean you were born under the right zodiac sign and everything you touch turns to gold?

At some point in everyone’s life something truly great happens to them. It doesn’t have to mean that you chose the winning numbers in the lottery. I’m saying it doesn’t have to be anything about money or material things.

I don’t know if it’s because 2020 really sucked worldwide, but I have been very reflective this year. During all of that reflection, I realized I am truly blessed…and luck had nothing to do with it.

Don’t get me wrong…there have been plenty of really unsettling events in my life, and upon reflection I can truly say they most of them were initiated by me. I’m not proud of that fact but it’s a fact nonetheless.

In recent years I’ve allowed ‘sayings’ to get me through frustrating times. I’ve heard some of them from other people, read some on Facebook, and good old Dr Phil has helped me out with a few also.

One of my favorite by Dr Phil is, “No matter how flat a pancake is, there are two sides.” Let’s face it, most of the time we only hear one side of a story and immediately believe it’s true.

Another one that I use a lot is, “What’s supposed to happen is going to happen.” I LOVE George Strait. Several months ago there was a promotion that if you make a donation to a charity he was supporting, your name would go in a hat. Then a name will be pulled and the winner would have a one-hour happy-hour via Facetime with George. I made a donation and as sure as I’m sitting here I knew I was going to win. Well, I don’t have to tell any of you how that turned out. Instead of pitching a fit about not winning, I simply told myself that if it was supposed to happen, it would have happened. End of story. You can’t win if you don’t play! If I would have won, I would have considered myself blessed AND lucky.

If you think those skeletons in your closet are buried, think again. “The footsteps of the past step on the heels of the future.” At some point something from your past is going to rear it’s ugly head. How you handle it will determine your future.

Did you ever make a decision about something and down the road you had that ‘aha’ moment because it all made sense how things turned out? I don’t think that was luck.

With learning how to handle some of the things life throws your way, maturity comes into play. I’m too old for drama or to care what anyone thinks of me. I spent too many years with drama and pleasing everyone. I cannot get those years back.

So, now back to the topic at hand. Luck or blessings? It wasn’t luck that gave me healthy children and grandchildren. It wasn’t luck that I’ve worked at some great company’s with great co-workers. It wasn’t luck that has provided me with the opportunity to travel to other countries as much as I have. It wasn’t luck that I survived breast cancer.

I have some amazing people in my life and they are in my life by choice. You want people who lift you up, laugh and cry with you, and someone you can call any hour of the day or night. Also people who can make you laugh. If you want to put friendship to the test, don’t call anyone for a month and see who calls you.

The reality of it all is that I am more than blessed and luck had little to nothing to do with how things in my life have turned out. We are all our own gate-keepers and for the most part we can keep anybody and anything out of our lives if we make the right decisions.

As this year draws to a close, the New Year is almost here. Most of us make new years resolutions and very few of us keep them. New Year 2020 I made a resolution and have kept up my resolution about 98%…of which I’m very proud. It’s the first time I’ve ever kept a resolution and I can tell you that I experienced a huge return on it and will keep it going into the New Year!

I am blessed and I ask God to bless 2021….

How And What We Learn Through Crisis

Four days ago was the 19th ‘anniversary’ of a very horrific day in the history of the United States. While there were many tributes on Facebook and other social media sites, a few folks mentioned September 10, 2001 and September 12, 2001.

Remembering September 10th is quite easy for me. From my perspective this was a relatively safe country. Unbeknownst to any of us, when we got out of bed that morning, it would be the last time for a long time, that we felt happy and secure. People went to work or school, children played outside, folks traveled without hesitation, and every now and then it crossed our minds that we lived in the greatest country in the world. Maybe I’m sugar-coating it a bit…but that is how I would like to remember it.

I woke up on September 11th and went to work. No radios or TVs were allowed in the office so the attacks on our country were in full swing before I heard about it. I remember one of the co-owners of the company coming in the door with panic in her voice. She asked if I had heard about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center. No…I had not. Initially, I just assumed an aircraft hit the first tower due to a medical issue with the pilot.

It didn’t take long to realize that was not the case.

A short while later, the other owners came into the office and were very upset. Early reports were saying terrorist attacks. Being the wonderful employers that they were, they told me if I was scared or upset I could go home…without pay. Being self-supporting didn’t allow for being scared or upset without pay.

We all know what happened during the rest of that day and although it was a very horrific day, the sun did rise the next morning.

Less than 48 hours later, September 12th arrived and folks were glued to their TVs, hoarding groceries, canceling travel plans, and a thousand other things. At this point none of us were quite sure how this was going to end…or if it would ever end. The one thing we were all sure of was that nothing would be the same again and we would have to learn a ‘new normal’.

Some good comes out of every bad situation. A lot of other countries came to our aid, once again some of us learned to appreciate who and what we had in our lives, and to simply take nothing for granted. Maybe some family members who weren’t talking decided to bury the hatchet. There were fund-raisers of every kind for anyone who needed assistance from the fallout of 9/11. We came together and we were united.

Like everything else, all good things must come to an end. Nineteen years after 9/11, we are in the middle of a pandemic, the media is out of control, there is racial tension, police attacks, rioting, burning, and looting. We (the United States) are, in my opinion, the laughing stock of this planet. For a country that used to be thought of as having gold-paved streets, it is suggested that we now de-fund police departments, we have some political candidates that keep the late night talk show hosts cracking jokes, families and friends being torn apart because of political egos, and to be honest, the list is endless.

Our citizens have made a mockery of religion, politics, and the law. We’re out of control and the world knows it. If anyone thinks for one minute that this country is safe and sound and another attack is impossible, think again. We let our guard down almost 20 years ago and now that all this other bullshit is going on, our guard is down again because our attention is directed at trying to curb all the unrest going on.

I will always support the United States of America and will always believe that the American dream is possible. I will always stand for the National Anthem and the Pledge of Allegiance. I do not discuss politics or religion because I was raised to believe those are subjects you do not discuss with other people.

It would never occur to me to speak badly about a candidate running for the presidency or any other political office. It absolutely boggles my mind that people publicly ridicule others for their political beliefs, and not to mention the damage being done to our children and grandchildren who hear adults calling candidates every name under the sun.

There are ways for each of us to handle situations and people we don’t care for. I’m no better than anyone else and Lord knows I have my opinions about the current issues going on in the world and this country, but I speak about them in my own home