Life As I see it

My First Super Bowl Party

I’m fifty and I just experienced my very first Super Bowl party. Seriously. Being from Canada, and living most of my teen life with my mother alone, my life was "sheltered" from the Super Bowl. Oh sure, we have the Grey Cup, but in the years where I may have become interested, we did not have a team in Montreal. The whole football thing went right by me.

Now that I’m married to a Texan, it is not much different. He watches, but his team was not quite up to par, so he lost interest very quickly. I never was a football widow. Sometimes I wish I were.

So when my friend called to invite us to her Super Bowl party, I was excited. Finally, I would get the feel the excitement! What food do we eat at this kind of thing? What about drinks? Is it a beer night , a wine night, a soda night? My friend said we'd have a Mexican theme. Ok. I was going to make flour tortillas, chipotle meatballs and, oh well, briskett. My husband absolutely wanted to try to smoke a briskett again. It turned out alright, but it certainly was not what I would call Mexican.

Our friends tried to explain the game to me. I couldn't quite get the personal foul, sack, interception, covering the flat, hurry up offence, encroachment, nose tackle, middle line backer, intentional grounding, … Is that even English? But that’s alright. Just watching the people enjoying the last 5 minutes of a generally boring game was fun. I thought they were speaking another language. Surely we all looked like aliens with our 3D glasses during some of the commercials. I am no longer a virgin Super Bowl partyer!

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My obituary

I’m taking a creative writing class. About time, you say? I guess so. My first assignment was to write an obituary about myself. Oh fun! In the "Seven Habits of Highly Effective People", Dr. Covey writes that the first habit is to start with the end in mind, and you are supposed to imagine yourself at your memorial service. What do people have to say about you, how do you want to be remembered, basically. This has been a strong influence in my life. Now my home is a mess, but people will, or should!, remember me as a loving, happy and empathetic person. Well, that’s the plan, anyway.

This assignment is not the same. We have to be inventive, but truthful...somewhat. Anyway, here's mine.

Michele Lemieux died this morning, her face on the keyboard of her laptop computer. Actually, her husband’s laptop computer which he had never had a chance to use. She was found by her mother-in-law at 10AM. Mother-in-law never got up before 9 and started calling around 9:15. While she waited, wondering if her daughter-in-law was hiding from her again, she thought about the dogs in the house and how they would start eating her flesh if her daughter-in-law really was sick or dead. Mother-in-law always had a very vivid imagination.

She drove to the house and let herself in with the key that Michele regretted ever giving her. The dogs did not have blood or human flesh in their mouths. Breathing a sigh of relief, or was it defeat, she walked all over the house calling out. When she came to the dining room, she found Ms. Lemieux bent over the keyboard. She called 911 but knew it was already too late.

Ms. Lemieux died from complications with toomuchstufftodowithnotimetodoit. According to the mother-in-law, she died doing what she always did. Work, look for work, write, translate and blog. She cooked a lot for the family too, but that was not mentioned. The remains will be sent back to Canada where she will be buried with her family. She always wanted to go back home.

Throughout her life, Ms. Lemieux was a writer at her high school newspaper, shoe salesperson, bank employee, wife, mother, seamstress, software salesperson, entrepreneur, software instructor, wife again, American this time, production manager, grandmother, translator, photographer, pottery maker, gardener, cook and back to her first love, writing. Putting a resume together was always a bitch…

She died still not knowing what she wanted to do with her life.

Her epitath: Nobody understood me. Might have been a language thing.

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Empty Nest

What do you call it when you don't "suffer" from empty nest syndrome, but you "relish" in it instead? I'm debating about getting a designer to make a "me" room. A place where I can watch television if I want, to read, meditate or just veg. I should probably wait at least another week. But in reality, it's not like my daughter will come back anytime soon. She's back in Canada. I’d have to wire her the plane ticket money. Hmmm.

I love my daughter, don't get me wrong. But two women in the same house is a little bit of a problem. I could not do anything quite right. I was either waking her up when she didn’t have to get up, or not waking her up when that specific class mattered. And the meals. Ah but she was picky! I put vegetables on her plate and she't eat them but not without making a face at me. We had wonderful times too. We'd always laugh at the same things... at the same people. A mother-daughter relationship is very difficult to analyze. You love each other and get on each other's nerves at the same time. We traveled a lot together and had a blast. We traveled well together, we could be in the car all day long and not get sick of each other. We’d go along with what the other one wanted to see. Our road trips lasted forever and were the best!

Okay, so I miss her. But what can I do? She has to live her own life, make her own mistakes and decisions. I did not raise a wimp. She’s made wrong decisions in the past, lifted herself up and continued on. I’m there if she needs me and she knows that. She also knows I will not interfere in her life, I will not "interview" potential boyfriends as they do on television. But I will always encourage her, lift her spirits sometimes, calm her down other times, support her, and always, always love her.

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The Holidays are over

It's finally over

The holidays are over and I’m glad. Driving for 5 days for a 5 day visit is bad enough, but moving around from visiting one family member to another, sleeping in different beds every night takes its toll. Those of us with family far away go through this every year. Who will be graced with your presence this year? Who will you not have time to see?

We spent time with grandkids which was wonderful. They are wonderful. Didn’t get to spend time with any of my uncles and that was sad. Everyone is getting older and you never know from one year to the next if they will all still be around next time. We don’t think about that when we’re in our twenties or even thirties unless someone has a serious illness. Now I think about it quite a bit. We moved to Texas to be closer to my in-laws. They are not getting any younger either, and I'm glad we're spending some good quality time together. One day at a time, right?

I saw my mom and my son, got my daughter to her new home safely and spent a little time shopping. Have to find time for shopping! I feel quite deprived of entertainment in my own language so when I visit back home, I stock up on music and dvds. I also get cheese and some wines that we can’t get here. Of all things! But smelly cheese and fine wines are in abundance back home.

We’re now back in Texas with the dogs. The new puppy had her run of the house for 10 days. Now we're the outsiders, this is her domain. Back to square one of training.

And now it’s time to think about the new year. I don't do resolutions, it’s no use. By the 2^nd, I’ve already broken at least one. I prefer to be gentler on myself and reflect on what happened and decisions I made the year before and what I would like to accomplish this year. What would you like to accomplish?

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If only in my dreams

Have you ever had the feeling that the plans you make never seem to quite work out the way you wanted them to? We were supposed to be in Canada already… 3 days ago! But a couple of days before our scheduled departure time, my daughter and I caught a mysterious weight-loss virus that keeps us glued to the bathroom. And I have bronchitis on top of that. Imagine coughing when … well, you get the picture.

The doctor said this particular virus was widespread in the area and there was nothing to do except maybe eat green bananas, rice and crackers and drink plenty of water. Just eating was not an attractive option for us, so green bananas? I’ll pass, thank you very much.

Everybody had to change their plans. Phone calls back and forth kept us from crying too much. We really wanted to be there. Ah. but the porcelain throne beckons.

Now we leave on Christmas morning. Unfortunately, Christmas is not waiting for us. I guess it would disrupt too many other plans. We will celebrate Christmas on the 30^th. That’s alright, we can shop without too much of a crowd for last minute gifts, maybe find a few after-Christmas sales. The children will have another Christmas with presents. I’ll get to see my son and grandchildren, my mom and some friends. Chistmas is just another day after all.

How about that?

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What's it all about, "Alfie"?

My daughter went to see a friend who works in a store Saturday. A dog had wandered into their store a week before and they were at a loss as to what to do with it. My daughter called me while I was out shopping to ask if we could keep it. Of course, I didn't have time to respond before she went on and on about the poor dog not having a place to go, the dog’s vet and its owner was called. Nobody came to pick it up. The SPCA and Humane Society didn’t want it. I told my daughter to wait for me. Well, I didn’t know that she wasn’t home with it yet. So guess where they both were when I got home? Oh yeah.

My daughter said, “Let’s call her Elfie!” By now, she stopped being “it” and became “her”. Elfie? “Yeah, Santa's little helper, Elf. Elfie!" Ah. Well, no, really. We will not keep her, no reason to give her a name. No reason to become attached. Her owner is probably looking for her. Besides, she doesn’t respond much to Elfie now, does she?

She’s been here for 3 days now. Just long enough for her to become lovable. Well, she is. I don’t think our current dog thinks so. Not yet anyway. We went to the vet with her and she now has all her shots and is officially a Madison. The registered owner was finally reached and said she would like for her to be in a nice home. Oh great! Since when did we gain the status of “nice home”? So what do we do? She is a sweetheart, very affectionate and loving. I think she’s starting to get used to being here. She is even jealous of the dog whose territory this is. Don’t get too comfortable, cute little dog. Someday a family with a nice home will adopt you…

Oh and by the way, her name is Katie.

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It's Snowing

This is our first day of snow. It's been snowing all day. Very little on the ground, mind you, but it’s been coming down all day. I put Christmas music on. All of a sudden I’m in the Christmas spirit. It seems I'm the only one. Everyone around me is either stressed about the holidays, afraid of losing their job or just plain depressed.

I should be too. I’m a freelancer, so I have work part of the time. There are jobs out there for freelance translators and writers, but as in everything else, it is slow at times. But I get to work from home. My daughter is moving back to Canada during the holidays, we’ll be driving so we can bring all her things. I will miss her. But she’s been moving back and forth for 7 years now. My husband's job is not secure. They are expecting layoffs sometime in January.

But it’s snowing. It reminds me of when I was younger in Montreal. The first snow was always magical. Especially if it snowed at night. I especially loved the muffled sound of my steps on soft snow, lifting my head and sticking out my tongue hoping to catch a snowflake. Then it got really cold the next day and the sound of footsteps was not muted anymore, it was crunchy. My hands froze when I shoveled a path for my car so I could go to work. Ah those were the days!

Take a little break, look outside at the snow and remember when you were a kid playing and relax. Actually, why don’t we just play for a little while? I read this wonderful saying the other day and it’s my new mantra: “We do not stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing.”

Have a wonderful and playful holiday season!

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Wow, am I in trouble!!

According to the emails I’m getting, I’m a sex addict with erectile dysfunction (although I am a woman). I'm about to lose my home to foreclosure, but I should buy into time shares and satellite tv. I’m fat and Linda has a weight loss blog just for me. Acai Berry will flush me and make me lose 20 lbs. I should get an education and my pet should get his nails trimmed…

I guess I didn’t know that. I’m so glad the internet told me the truth about myself. Now I can go to these websites, give them my credit card number and be assured that they will take care of everything for me.

Now wait a minute! You are telling me this is all a scam?! You have to be kidding me! Well, yeah, I don’t need Cialis because I am a woman, and my doctor never said I was overweight. In fact, I have a healthy weight. And you’re right, I am not losing my home, I certainly don’t need a time share condo and although I'm not thrilled with my cable provider, I don't know that I want to switch to satellite, even though my television will supposedly stop working in a couple of months.

But why then are all these sites trying to sell me something? According to the spam.abuse.net website, it is much cheaper for these advertisers to send out emails than it would be if they used any other media. These spammers spend probably $100 a day to send out millions of ads and we, the receivers, spend more money (in cash and time) getting rid of them. Oh and don't "opt out" of receiving any more emails from these crooks. This just proves to them there's a real email address and they'll just keep you on their lists.

What can we do about it? You can trace it and report it. You may not receive any more from this spammer, but others will still find you. You can hide your email address when sending email to companies or you can install spam email blocking and filtering. It all seems a little complicated and time consuming. But just think of the time you will save when you won't have to deal with spam anymore. Enough time to read Linda’s weight loss blog. Hey why don’t I write a blog about weight loss? Then I can spam everyone with it!

Reference = spam.abuse.net

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Magazines

I’m a magazineaholic. I collect magazines at an alarming rate. My husband is quite upset with me whenever I go visit my mother in Canada and come back with months’ worth of my favorite magazines. To the point where I don’t always show him what I come back with.

Here, I subscribe to Cooking Pleasures, Fine Cooking, Gourmet, Yoga Journal, The Writer magazine, and at least 4 more. I also buy the TV Guide every week and some other magazines on a regular basis. That is on top of the two Canadian magazines that I could subscribe to here. Do I have time to read them all? Of course not! Do you? And when I finish one, it is so dog-eared I will never remember what I wanted to keep or send to people I thought would be interested in or come back to.

I have so many magazines, we haven’t even unpacked all the boxes yet because we know that’s what’s in them. But I will not let go. There’s important information in there! Someday I’ll write about some health topic and somewhere in my magazines there is valuable research. Someday I’ll want to make that special recipe that I saw years ago in one of my magazines… In the meantime, they are stacking up, not in any specific order and certainly not by subject.

Which takes me to my point. We’re going to visit my mother for Christmas. I know she keeps magazines for me. She knows I miss home and this keeps me in touch somehow. Plus we're driving so it will be much easier to take them back. Flying costs me a fortune because my suitcase is so magazine heavy. So I ask you. Do I have a problem? Should my family stage an intervention?

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Overplanning

Are you like me? I like to overplan everything. Right now, I’m into planning my daughter’s move back to Canada. She finishes school around the 8th of December. I've got her resting and packing. 12 days. We're leaving for Canada on the 20th. We're making lists of what she needs to bring back and what she is taking from here, dishes, etc. I’m also making a list of what we will bring back from Canada because we are driving and there are things we can't get here, in Amarillo Texas.

I’m also planning what meals we will prepare for my in-laws when we’re gone. And of course, the best planning of all… the new year. What do I want to accomplish in the new year? I can’t say we because my family thinks I get carried away with my lists. So what if I have a master list telling me where and what all my lists are? At least I'm organized. Well, as long as I don’t forget I have a master list, or where it is, of course. Sometimes I start the same lists over and over again. But I digress.

Why do we like to plan so much? Is it because we like to know what will happen, no surprises? Or is it because in this chaotic world, we like to have some sanity and purpose? Regardless, I have found that no matter how much planning I do, something always comes up to change my plans, therefore my lists.

My husband indulges me. He even encourages me to make lists sometimes. Methinks he's having fun at my expense. Just the other day he said, “Honey, you need to make a list of the television shows we won’t be able to watch in January with everything you have us doing in the evenings.” Ya think?

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Letting go

What does letting go mean? I just said goodbye to a friend who is leaving for Romania. Am I letting go? Heck no! I would hang on and keep her here. Now I’ll be thinking about her for a long while. Then maybe when I don’t think about her so much, I will start to let go. My mom never quite let go of me and I certainly have not let go of my children! Especially now that my son’s fiancée has given birth to a beautiful little boy. They are 1200 miles away and I feel so bad that I can’t be there. I should, shouldn’t I? But life today is that way. We don’t stay in one place like our ancestors did. We have international jobs, international lives, the internet keeps us connected and we think, this is it! The best of both worlds, get to see other parts of the world and everyone lives their own lives. Our kids are grown now, they have their own lives to live. They won’t even miss us. But do we miss them! And it’s not the same. You can’t hug your adult son on Messenger. You might not be able to hug him in person anyway, but you still feel bad about it! I know I do. My baby just had a baby! But maybe the reason I want to be there is so I can tell them what to do.

Today I learned that someone who I loved very much has died. He died yesterday, and his daughter, my friend, told me by email. Of course, I’m 1200 miles away, but a phone call would have been nice. This man was a second father to me. I went to the countryside for the first time with them when I was 6 or 7 years old. He was always very caring and patient with me. Both of my friend’s parents were. One of the last times I saw him, I introduced him to my then-future now husband. At the end of the evening, he gave me a big hug and said, “You’re not asking for my approval, but I will give it to you anyway.” I called my friend as soon as I picked up the email and asked how she was holding up. He had been sick for a while, it was kind of like a relief, he was in such pain!

Psychologists say that it takes a whole year to heal completely after a loss. You have to go through all anniversaries and holidays making new memories.

There are times I question the wisdom of moving to another country. I was doing well in Canada. Real well, in fact. I had my cute little apartment, with my daughter in a beautiful city, Montréal. I had my friends, my mother, my family and a great job. Why then? Was it because I absolutely needed a man in my life? No. Was it because I was so in love with my American that everything else took second place? Yeah. I don’t regret it. Really. But sometimes I wish I had not been so rash in my decision. But then when would I have moved? When both my kids were settled in a permanent relationship? Define permanent. Maybe when I was rich enough and could go back and forth between the two countries? Well, that might never happen. And it sure is nice to be in a place where summers last so long, where you can start your garden in the middle of February.

I don’t think we ever truly let go. We might not think about it, but then something reminds us of an event or a person and we’re back to square one. But why? Why are we like that? Do birds think about their little ones once they throw them off the nest? We’re emotional people. Are we all like that? Do we all, to some degree, just cope?

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The haircut

Cutting your own hair may be hazardous to your health

Now you tell me, with the way women do their hair today, turned up and down and all around, is it that important to have straight-cut hair?

You see, I cut my hair today. I didn't just cut my bangs either. My mom thought it was the funniest thing when we talked later. Well, the thing is, when I was a little girl, I would cut all my dolls' hair. It mortified her back then, and now, I cut my own hair and she thinks it's funny. Go figure.

My husband said it looked all right. I should say we have only been married for a few years, so he is still nice. My daughter had no such qualms. “Are you crazy?? I hope you go see a ‘real’ hairdresser before you drive me back home. I don't want to be seen in public with you!” Now wait a minute! Okay, so I had to recut a little bit here and there because hair was hanging out on the sides, but it's no worse than the last time I went to a “real” hairdresser. She missed my sides too!

Actually, I didn't do a bad job.

It all started out when I looked at myself in the mirror this morning. The grey is starting to show again, so I need hair color as well. I saw my old aunt looking back at me. No way! I've been wanting to go to a hairdresser for weeks now. My old hairdresser skipped town after I got her so stressed out because I just kept fretting about my hair. Since then, nobody wants me to come back. Actually, I gave myself a better haircut than at least one of the so-called professionals I've been using lately.

I went up the stairs to my “styling salon” backward. I knew I shouldn't do it. I really knew better. I was thinking that if the phone rang, or if someone came to the door, then that would be my sign that I shouldn't do it. Nobody called, and nobody came, so up I went. When I looked at the mirror again, I kept thinking it can't be that hard. You just pull out strands and cut. I had seen hairdressers do it often enough, you take a thin row right up on top. There, that wasn't so bad. But now I had to continue. I kept thinking about the old joke of cutting one side shorter than the other, side after side after side. Oh my God!

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I'm a 50 year-old student

I'm a 50 year-old college student. I'm actually enjoying being at school. I'm exercising my brain, learning new things. I'm usually the oldest person in my class, and that's alright. I'm usually older than my teachers and that's not alright.

I decided to go back to school so I could understand what I was doing at the time at my job. I was taking company logos and creating some kind of library or loyalty cards with them. Since during most of my career, I was in software sales, this was quite a challenge. I'd always dreamed of doing something creative that didn't involve a sales presentation. Well, I got it. But after the first semester, I didn't have that job anymore and taken a photography class that I liked so much I decided to change my major from graphic design to photography. My photography teacher was older, maybe that's why I liked it. Actually, I did like the old school type of teaching. He taught us to build a pinhole camera, really old fashioned. Then we spent the semester in the darkroom printing our pictures. Oh man, I loved it! I liked thinking that Ansell Adams and Edward Weston did that too. That they would spend hours on a picture until it was exactly as they wanted it. What passion!

That was in South Carolina. We're in Texas now. It is not a bad school, it's pretty much like the rest of the schools in the country. All going digital. The students don't even know what an aperture is, or what happens when you stop up or down. The basic stuff. Oh yeah, they can use a graphics computer program much better than I can, but if they are presented with a problem, they don't know what to do, they never had the basics, they were born in the computer age. They didn't grow up with it. I might even say they didn’t grow up. “I can't take more than one class, I have a baby at home!” “I got into a fight at the bar and if you think I look bad, you should see the other guys.” Poor babies!

We had a business of photography class yesterday afternoon. Most of the kids were doing email on their computers. I and another couple of "older" kids asked questions about copyright laws, business plans and rates. I was hoping they were paying enough attention to learn something! After all, they are still young enough to multitask. I probably would have done the same thing at their age. I now try to read about the subjects that interest me. Remember I have to get my brain busy if I don't want to have Alzheimer's. Actually nobody would realize it if I did have that disease because it wouldn’t be much different from today. But that is a topic for another time.

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I could have saved my marriage

I could have saved my first marriage. If only I’d known. But I was only 16 when I met him, you see. I did not know what relationships were supposed to be like. And my father died when I was very young so I did not have a male role model. Those males are different! In my 16 year-old naivete, I thought I wanted to get married and have children. We married when I turned 20. I really thought it was for better or worse.

Our first year of marriage was not ideal. We’d never talked about separation of chores. He was expecting me to clean the toilet and my mom had always done that. I thought it would magically get cleaned. My cooking was not great, but it was okay. I was willing to experiment and he was willing to get sick every now and then. I learned. He was not sick very often.

Then we did what most couples do, we bought a house, had children and worked. He figured since he was making more money than I did and working longer hours, I should bear the brunt of the housework. I was young. I took the responsibility.

For most of our life together, I did as much as I could. I was not perfect, the house was less than spotless. Mothering was my thing. I adored my children and took good care of them. So did my husband. But our communication was terrible. I could never bring up something that bothered me without it turning into a huge fight where I invariably thought our marriage would not survive. He would always win, of course. I told him he should have been a politician. Always turning things in his favor. I just gave up, kept my mouth shut and did what I had to do to save my family.

Until I turned 40. I don't know if it was the hormones, or if it was just time, maturity, but one morning I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered if this is how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. Being unhappy, overweight, middle-aged. Hell no! I joined a fitness club, healthy eating group and started working the outside. My husband had stopped looking at me for so long now that my new thinner tighter body did not get a second glimpse.

I guess he’d given up too. When I started working on the inside, I knew this was the end of my marriage. It shocked him to find out I wanted out. He did everything he could to not let it happen, tried to be romantic for the first time in twenty years. He wanted to go to marriage counseling, it didn't work. For me, it was already too late.

Now, ten years later, I understand more. I should have insisted we sit down and discuss what we were expecting from each other before we married. And after, I should have been more mature and when discussions came up, I should have taken things into perspective and made sure we could talk calmly. I should have insisted he listen to me, take what I said seriously. Who knows what would have happened? I guess still today I'm taking responsibility...

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Family is important

Years ago, I went on a mini ski trip with my then-husband and another couple. Yes I am making a point, I promise. We didn't take many vacations except as a family. I never liked to stay away from my children for very long. I guess it was because my birth mother abandoned me when I was two years old and I never wanted my children to feel abandoned. Maybe I need to see a shrink... but I digress.

We were in the car, the men in front and my friend and I in the back chatting and knitting. We talked about different things, nothing of consequence, until she asked me if I liked my job. I was a sales rep for a software company. Yeah I liked my job, I got to travel to different cities in the province where I lived and even across the country some. She worked part time at a butcher shop.

She started rambling on about how she couldn’t understand me and my ambition because to her, family was the most important thing. Well, I'll say! I was a little surprised and hurt that she would think family is more important to her than it was to me. After all, we’d known each other for at least five years; we’d been through the birth of our youngest kids together.

I got me thinking later that women are so petty and jealous. We have to find fault with someone with a career and children because we know we can’t do it all, and we think they can.

I did get my little schadenfreude (look it up at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schadenfreude I love the word!) later that year. Our oldest children went to a week long school trip and were coming back a Friday afternoon. I was two hours away at a sales call with the president of the company I was working for. At 2PM, I excused myself and explained the situation. I had to get home and pick up my son who was coming back from a school trip. He'd been gone a whole week and I missed him. Everybody was understanding and my president drove me back to the office so I could pick up my car. I got to the school just as the bus was pulling up. My friend, who worked ten minutes away, could not take a half hour to pick up her daughter. She sent the babysitter instead. Family is important indeed.

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Wednesday morning

One beautiful Wednesday morning last winter. A beautiful day! It’s been awhile since we’ve had one of these gorgeous winter days. Trust me, to a Canadian, South Carolina winters are gorgeous!

I will write outside today. Okay then, I need to get the laptop ready. It’s older, so I need to give it more time to boot, and I absolutely need to plug it in, the battery is worthless. I need an extension cord. Oh where did we put those? We cleaned up the closets and rearranged where the “hardware” was going to be. Maybe still in the closet in the laundry room. Of course not. Let’s see if it’s in the closet upstairs by our bedroom, that’s where my husband put those aluminum shelves. Ok, it’s there, the big yellow rolled up cord. I bring it downstairs out on the deck and plug it in the outside outlet.

I come back inside and unplug the computer. I’m not sure if our internet cable will be long enough, but I’m not going outside to do “research” on the internet. I’m going to write. Seriously. Where do I put the dog? It’s cruel to leave him inside alone on such a beautiful day. I get his leash and he gets all waggy-tailed and excited. But I need to get everything ready before I take him outside.

Now I’m sure I will be thirsty, so I should think about bringing something. I might like water or tea. Might as well bring both just in case. Then if I want to take a break from writing, I may decide to read for a little bit. I should bring a magazine, which one? I have two thousand unread magazines lying around all over the house, just in case. Then again, I started reading a book that I got from the library that maybe I would prefer to read. Oh yeah my husband loved that one. “You have about three hundred books in the house that you haven’t read yet, and you pick out books from the library???” Oh well, let’s bring a few things outside so I’ll have a choice.

Okay, the computer’s outside, the magazines and books. Yes, by now it’s more than one book. Some paper in case I need to take notes. The phone as well, I’m waiting for a phone call from an editor. My tea and water. Oh and my writing notes. Am I forgetting something? The dog, but he’ll come out with me.

Finally I sit. Oh bliss! The reflection of the sun on the lake is spectacular, of course by that time it’s 4PM! The warm breeze feels so good on my skin, the birds… what is that noise I’m hearing? Someone can’t seem to get his trailer out of the water at the pier so he guns his motor to give it more power. Bright. And the neighbor across the lake decides to trim down some trees with his chainsaw, and the dogs next door want to make sure we know they are waiting for someone to play with. Oh swell! I won’t get any work done now, I might as well go inside and get a beer!

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At the Beach

It’s not like I hadn’t heard it before. My mother told me my whole life. I even said it to my kids. “Don’t forget to wear sunscreen!” So why did I?

We were having a wonderful day at the beach. It was sunny and windy and it was the last trip my daughter and I would be taking together for a very long time. She was moving back to Canada to study medicine, or more precisely anthropology or maybe it’s something else, I can never remember.

So one beautiful Thursday morning in South Carolina, we headed out to the beach. I stopped for gas at my regular place in our little town and the manager asked me what we were doing today. I said we were going to the beach. He looked at me funny because he knew my daughter was in school. “How long will you be gone?” “We’re coming back later today.” The look of astonishment on his face was priceless. What? It’s just a three and a half hour drive. We’ll get there around noon, have lunch, stay at the beach for a couple of hours, walk around town and drive back home. No big deal, we’ve done that hundreds of times.

I must admit we are a little odd. One time, back in Canada, we took my mother to dinner three hours away just because she wanted to go to Red Lobster and they had closed all the restaurants in Quebec, we had to go to Ontario. But I digress.

We stopped at a nice seaside restaurant for lunch, food was great, company was even better. Our times together are very special.

Then we drove to the beach. We jumped on the hot sand, found a nice uncrowded spot and laid out our towels. We put sunscreen on and went in the water. Oh glory! The water was perfect, the waves were just exciting enough, and no sign of a shark. We stayed in the water for a while, then went back to our towels. At this point, we put some more sunscreen. I didn’t put any on my face since I had not been underwater. I figured I was safe.

After a couple of hours, we decided to go back. I felt a little burn as I was trying to put my clothes back on, but I thought it was just because my skin was still humid. My daughter looked at me a few times and laughed each time as I was getting redder and redder. By the time I got home, my face and shoulders were as red as a lobster. My husband couldn’t believe his eyes and my stupidity.

By the next morning, I couldn’t open one of my eyes and my whole face was swollen. Enough so that my husband didn’t want to go anywhere with me, he thought he’d get arrested for domestic violence.

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Where have the women gone?

And I’m not talking politics here. We should be up in arms about those television commercials. “With pets, children and husbands, who has time” What is that? Actually, men should be insulted as well, these commercials make them look stupid and helpless. Like the sales commercial for a major department store, the man walks into the room and his child is making a mess. All daddy can say is “Where is your mother?” Say what!!

I remember when my husband-to-be and I were talking one evening about our future life together. I said that I was concerned that I’d be having to take responsibility for the house, cleaning and everything. His reaction was of course not, I’ll help. That should have been my ticket out right there. You will help!? This is your house I’m moving into. I was really looking for a partner, not a helper.

Needless to say the word help is a four letter word at our house. Well, it is a four letter word, but it’s a bad word for us. I told this story to a friend of mine a few years ago and she thought it was the strangest thing. I should be happy my husband is willing to “help”. The thing that bothers me is that whenever I talk to other women, they always complain about their husbands not doing enough around the house. There was even an article in a Canadian magazine recently about women feeling like they do most of the work.

Don’t we kind of do this to ourselves? We are historically so used to doing everything, like cooking, cleaning, getting the kids ready for school, etc. that when our partner wants to do something, we almost prefer to do it ourselves. We know how to load the dishwasher efficiently. We like our towels folded just so. Well, you know what? So what if the towel is folded the wrong way, it’s folded, isn’t it? When I pick up a towel after my shower, I don’t really care which side was facing up, I just care that it dries my skin.

We have to let go. Eventually, we’ll have to let go of our children. Why don’t we practice some today?

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Friends come and go

There are friends that last forever. I have two such friends. I met one in grade school and the other one in high school. Mary soon became my best friend. I neglected my other friends so we could spend time together. I’m sure she did the same. We went to the park, we went shopping, I spent a lot of time at her house. We swooned over the Osmond brothers. Knew all the lyrics to every song. Oh what good times we had! Then one day, it all stopped. I can’t remember if something happened or we just fell out of childhood friendship. I called her a few years ago and it was like we’d never lost touch. Of course, things happened to both of us. She is a psychologist now, she married and divorced and was living in the same city. I married, moved, had two kids, divorced, changed careers three times, moved again and remarried. Well let’s just say I was never the stable one in our relationship.

John, I met in high school. He was a football player. I was considered one of the boys and if anyone said differently, John would take care of it. There was an attraction once but neither one of us did anything about it. I always thought that our friendship meant more to us than a love story that may turn sour. We are still friends. He married, had two kids as well. Funny thing, his wife never really took to me, don’t know why… We both had to grow up, no more playing football together in the school corridors. But we were always close. No matter what happened to us or what separated us. We don’t speak often, in fact almost never anymore. And I can’t always see him when I’m in town. But I know that it doesn’t matter. We see each other when we can.

We’re all grown now. Maybe not matured, but grown. Our parents are either gone or older. We worry about them, we worry about each other. But always we love each other.

I’ve had friends come and go. Really good friends. Sometimes, you have to make a decision on friendships. Some are heavy to carry, sucking all the life and energy out of you. I’ve had friends like that too. It hurts when you have to make the choice to lose those friendships, but when you cringe when they call, or when you feel like it’s a burden to spend time and money on a meal together, maybe it’s time to let go. We should cherish the relationships that make us happy. Life really is too short.

As we grow older, we lose some friends anyway, and sometimes we may even reconnect with other old friends, like I did with Mary. I can’t dwell on the friends I lost. I must cherish the ones I have.

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Stephen and his dog

“Don’t you ever come near my wife again! The No Trespassing sign in front is for you!”

I looked at the dog that I was bringing back, and for the first time, I could see the resemblance. Physical I mean. The little dog was much friendlier, his tail was all wagging. It was missing the glasses, but the hair color was pretty much the same, shaggy brown-grey, the unshaven face, hair all over. But I may be wrong, he scared me, the man I mean.

“Call animal control, do what you want to do, but don’t come here again! My wife was trying to rest Saturday morning and you and your husband showed up and…”

He was rambling on and the only thing I could remember was that the wife in question looked like a wet dog, humm… Maybe I do have a thing about dogs. She said I did, that I didn’t like dogs. I like them just fine, just not in my tulips or my wildflowers. Especially not the little brown balls they leave behind. But of course, I am being totally unreasonable. Doesn’t that work as a fertilizer or something? And besides, I don’t quite see his logic here. I can’t walk on his property but his dog can poop on mine. Let me think about that one for awhile.

Oh well, I guess I shouldn’t make too much of a fuss about it. There are dogs everywhere here. Can someone tell me why people have this uncontrollable urge to own dogs? And dogs that bark and poop, no less. And that for some reason can’t stay in their yards. Maybe I’m on to something. Control. But actually who controls whom? Sometimes I think dogs are slowly training their masters. Look at how some of them talk to their dogs, little crooning noises. “Tootsie, tootsie, lookie, lookie, mommy, mommy. Hoooo such a pretty little baby!”

Anyway, eventually I came back home, he had run out of steam. After a while, I heard the kids running and yelling on the street. If I had bothered to look, I bet you I would have seen the little offending dog. Poor smooch! He doesn’t even realize he’s a star, that people are making such a fuss over him. Eventually the kids got tired of making the racket, and I’m sure my friend felt really good about himself. “That’ll teach her!” Ooooh he taught me alright. I don’t know what, but I’m sure he taught me something.

Now what do I do? Maybe I should just roll over and play dead…

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We're raising a generation of wimps

I’m not the one saying that. Psychology Today wrote the article bck in November 04 But I can’t say I disagree. We’re getting rid of … in playgrounds because little Roscoe broke a tooth. We’re talking to Lia's coach because she doesn’t have enough game time. We talk to the dean of the college where our little Brent will go in the fall to discuss security and grades. And we wonder about binge drinking? Those poor kids are so unprepared for college, of course they will do crazy stuff!

This came back to me a couple of weeks ago when I was in Canada visiting my son and his family. Here are two adults, still too young in my opinion but I’m just the mother, in their mid-twenties with two young children and who take their roles as parents very seriously. They both work, and in retail where hours are crazy, and they come home and it’s all about family and the children. These children are learning how far they can go, and the parents are consistent in their limits. They were perfectly balanced, well behaved and happy children. We went to a park and had the best time. We went to a restaurant and had the best time. We were never concerned about fits or yelling. I was never so proud.

I read somewhere else that raising children is now the responsibility of society and not of parents anymore. Have you ever seen a brat at Wal-Mart and tried to tell the kid or the mother to behave? I guess I’m not what we call “society”. That’s a bunch of bull. It starts with parents. We are responsible for our children. They don’t have to be spanked all the time. They can understand that there are things that are just unacceptable. They can also be sent out to play for a while. Falling down and getting back up is part of life. We as kids did it all the time. Why would it not be good enough for our kids?

When we were growing up, there was probably not enough emphasis on safety. We knew if we did something wrong there would be consequences, either we’d get hurt or we’d go to the principal’s office. Oh and if daddy found out… That’s how we learned to survive in this world that is not fair, not balanced and certainly not safe. We are not helping our children by doing everything for them, or by letting them do whatever they want without consequences.

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