Category: Everyday Life

Posted on

The All-Nighter

My home has become a flop-house for exhausted men! Dave arrived home this morning after pulling his first all-nighter since retiring from the Navy.   As the proposal deadline neared, his team worked through the wee hours doing final edits and publication for delivery today.  Andy and I waited up for him until almost midnight watching an old Mystery Science 3000 movie from Netflix before giving up and crawling off to bed.

I woke up a couple to times during the night and was aware that he hadn’t come home yet.  Trusting that he was alright, I rolled over and went back to sleep.  When his alarm went off at 6:00 and he still wasn’t home, Izzie and I decided to keep to our routine.  We came downstairs, made some coffee and Izzie cried at the door to be let out.  Then I send Dave a text to make sure he was still alive.  Even though I had convinced myself I would have heard something if he’d landed in a  ditch on his way home or succumbed to a massive corinary, it was a relief to hear my phone’s melodic flourish when he responded to say he was indeed still alive and kicking.

Years ago, under similar circumstances, I would have been a basket case, working myself into a frenzy of fear.  Then, there wasn’t the easy non-evasive easy touch of texting him.  Instead, I would get up immediately the first time I woke up and found myself alone.  From there I would set a blast-off time; negotiating with myself the appropriate time to take action.  If I hadn’t heard from him in say, an hour, I’d make a call.  Calling wasn’t easy either.  Depending on where he was working, on a watch or shipboard, direct phone lines weren’t always the norm.   The combination of no word and frustration of failure to connect fueled my anxiety allowing dramatic emergency scenerios to take my mind further and further into the dark night of the soul – always unwarranted.  The next morning, and for the majority of the following day I would suffer dearly for the sleep I’d lost.  Thank God nothing bad ever did happen!  If it had, I certainly wouldn’t have been physically prepared to handle it.

I guess it’s part of that “with age comes wisdom” stuff.  I certainly don’t love Dave any less than I did then.  Simply put I have learned to trust that in most situations, everything will turn out alright.  It has taken a while to get here but I am certainly enjoying the stay!

So for today, I am sort of alone.  Andy has recovered from his jet lag and long work hours prior to his trip and is quietly working on his job applications.  Dave is snoring happily in our bed.  I am happy to have them both in the house, enjoying our non-together-togetherness.

Posted on

Do I Dare?

For the past few years I’ve been struggling to decide whether or not I want to add a dog to our family.  I love dogs.  Dogs seem to love me.  I just can’t seem to take that leap to make a lifelong commitment to another four legged friend.

For all intents and purposes, adopting a dog is like having a child.  Both require lots of patience and care.   Granted, a dog you will never defy you shout “you’re not the boss of me!”  like Izzie, my calico does that on a regular basis.  But they do need to go out to “do their business” and tend to track the great outdoors in.

On a practical note, I tell myself that a dog will provide me with another outlet for exercise.  I really would like to walk a dog, to have a buddy on my walks (which I haven’t been taking without someone to walk with).  A dog would also provide my another outlet for my need to shop – there are some really cool dog products out there.

All the pros and cons aside, my real concern is how Izzie, Calico Queen of the house, will react to a canine companion.  The bite on my hand is just beginning to fade along with the memory of her reaction the last time she had a close encounter with a dog.  She is mellowing to our doggy neighbor and no longer puffs her tail when poor Marky emerges from her back door.  Lately, Izzie meerly posses herself regally on the lawn and nonchalantly observes the canine behavior with intellectual detachment.   I still worry what would happen should a puppy actually enter our home.  It could be ugly.

I’ve been scanning the local SPCA pages with little luck.  I’d really like a small to medium sized dog and have fallen in love with the Cavalier King Charles Spaniels.  Sadly, there does not seem to be the uncontrolled breeding of these dogs that would populate an animal shelter.   I have found a local breeder but I’m torn between rescuing a dog or merely writing a check.

So, here I sit, like J Alfred Proofrock, in a state of indecision.  Do I dare get a dog?  remains to be seen whether I will find the dog of my dreams or have to lower my expections.  If I don’t, I may risk becoming a doggie spinster.

 

Posted on

Communicating with the Non-Dead

Just down the road from us is a Psychic.  I know this because there is a big sign in the yard that says so.  There are always cars parked out front, so I guess people trust that a psychic does live there.   I wonder what credentials are required to hang a sign in front of your house.  If all that is needed is a proven track record, I guess I could put a sign in my yard that says “Listener”.

There are those who claim to possess the ability to communicate with the dead.  The explanation is that spirits are drawn to those who are sensitive and bombard them with information – like an antenna picking up radio waves from the other side.  Well, I seem to be gifted a similar attraction with the living.   No matter where I go I will almost always make a connection with a stranger and come away with a bounty of personal  information about them.

Most of the time, the encounters are short lived and interesting.  Last Monday, while Maggie and I were winding our way through one of the many local antique shops, a very tall elderly man approached us.  I inquired about a scale I spied on a shelf and he explained to tell us it came from a local factory where his mother worked just after the war.  She worked there for over twenty years and died in her nineties of a heart attached.  Sadly his wife died two years ago after a lengthy battle with alzheimer’s.  His son owns the store.  OK, that’s not that much information but it’s probably more than most people would get out of him.  After he stopped talking, he had a funny look on his face as if he was wondering what triggered the information dump and walked away.  I never found out how much he wanted for the scale.

Occasionally, my encounters are longer, trapping me in a place when I really would rather move along.  After Mass on Sunday, we went up to the Hall for coffee to chat with a couple we knew from Hampton Roads.  By the time I got to the pot, it was empty.  I decided to have a cup of tea.  In the time it took to open my Constant Comment packette and pour water over the bag, a short, plump older woman with a cup of coffee in each hand crossed my path.  “Oh dear, I got my husband a cup of coffee and he already has one.” she said.  “He’s Italian, from Italy.  He didn’t even speak American when I met him”  She said.  That was her jumping off point.  She cheerfully told me about her grandmother, who escaped from Germany to Hungary during the war, married a man thirty years her junior and then came to the US.  She already had children and they lived happily until her death at age 86.  Her husband was so despondant, he only lived two years longer and was dead at 58.  I also learned that her husband and her brothers always carried decks of cards with them, ready for a game whenever the opportunity presented itself.  All the while she talked, I waited for the chance to excuse myself to go chat with my friends.  Finally it came and I was able to break away from her voice.

I really don’t mind these information dumps.  Mostly I feel honored that total strangers see something in me that invokes immediate rapport and trust.  Their stories are sacred as is the sharing.  Although these examples are benign, there are times when the information is so very personal that perhaps the only way it can be shared is with a stranger.   These stories I do not share.  They are wrapped tightly and tucked away in a safe place.

A couple of years ago at my Grandma Gray’s memorial service, my cousin Monica’s husband eulogized that my Grandma had a talent for making you feel as if you were the most important person in the world.  Her brow would furrow over her twinkling blue eyes as she listened intently.  I was given her name.  I can only hope I will live to earn the reputation she had to be such a good listener.

 

 

 

 

Posted on

After….Shock

It’s funny how recent history can affect the way you react to even the most routine events.  This morning as I was pouring my first cup of coffee I heard a rumble.  Thinking “here we go again, I scurried to the nearest door frame to take refuge.  Then, as I looked out the front window I saw the source of the noise – the waste removal truck across the street picking up the neighbor’s weekly garbage.  Even though that truck has been picking up there every Friday morning since we moved here seven weeks ago, I reacted to the most recent of experiences.

I remember after Hurricane Isabel, it was much the same.  Anytime we lost power, even for a few minutes, I broke into a cold sweat.  Even though 99% of the time we had lights out prior to that storm power was restored in a few hours at most, Isabel proved that there is always that 1% that you will need to get by for several days without it.

This morning, as Hurricane Irene heads up the coast, while I may be miles inland where we’re looking at sustained winds of 20 mph, my heart is still in Virginia Beach, mentally inventorying the flashlights, batteries and bottled water.  I’ve offered an open invitation to anyone who would like to come party for the weekend but so far have had no takers.  If I can’t make pancakes and popcorn for you all, I will hold you close to my heart.

Posted on

Life…. on the Road

I passed a major milestone yesterday.  On my way home from the grocery store the odometer on my CRV turned 100,000 miles.  I’ve never put that many miles on a car before.  Even our late Nissan Sentra (RIP) which we also owned for eleven years had less than 50,000 on it and when it was hit.  Such a long distance – four times around the earth – where had we been in my sporty little Honda?

Mostly, the miles were short trips, back and forth to work, church or the store.  I remember the first time I drove it to work when it was bright and shiny red and had that “new car smell”.   My office pals all came out to the parking lot to watch politely as I proudly opened all the doors.  They oohed and aahed when I pulled out the back wheel well cover and pulled its legs revealing a card table in disguise!  Practical and utilitarian, my CRV was all I wanted in a car with the added bonus of providing me with an elevated view of the road – something nature had denied me.  Never again would rain flooded streets keep me from arriving at my destination.

Aside from the day to day commutes to and from work and the errands of life, the CRV has taken us on many road trips.   The first was to take Maggie to Longwood for Freshman orientation.  With its abundant cargo space, my little red car was ideal for carting kids back and forth to college.  That fall, it was Maggie, the next fall was Andy’s turn.  One Thanksgiving, when car pools fell through, we took a round trip with Maggie to Farmville and then headed south to drop Andy off in Durham.  Sadly , we will remember that trip as “the time we hit the fox”.  Fortunately that is the only one notch on our bumper.

I was rear-ended once on my way home from work.  It was a rainy evening and the guy behind me just barely hit me, ripping my wheel cover and badly damaging his front grill.  We both deemed it unnecessary of policy or insurance company involvement but exchanged business cards.  He actually called me the next day to make sure I was OK.

The CRV is great for toting things.  We proved this with our three local moved in Virginia Beach.  It is truly amazing what can be crammed into that car.   Over the years we have hauled furniture, shrubbery, mulch, loads to the Goodwill and did pick-ups from the Food Bank and BJ’s to the St. Mark’s Food Pantry – not mentioning the countless trips to and from college campuses.  One time, while shopping at Sam’s Club, we saw an old woman and her son attempting to fit an oversized television box (not a flat screen) into the trunk of her car.  No way was it going to fit.  We offered our assistance and followed her home with the TV in the back of our car!

The CRV is also a great beach car, easily holding all the chairs, coolers, umbrellas and assorted beach stuff needed for a day or even week at the beach.  Because of this, I’m ashamed to admit that my car has not been the tidiest vehicle on the road.  Many times its carpets have been dirt and sand covered and the litter bags overflowing with tissues and candy wrappers, bearing witness to my season allergies and life long sweet tooth.  Once I won a bet and a couple of my friends were supposed to have it detailed for me, but somehow that never happened.

I do love my CRV.  Sometimes I see a newer model or even another kind of car and think it might be nice to have a new one but then I’ll come out of a store scanning the lot to see where I’ve parked and see the now faded cherry red paint of my car, with the cheery Jack In The Box clown ball on my antenea and fall in love all over again.  God willing and the creek don’t rise over my wheel wells, I’ll be driving my CRV for another 100,000 miles!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted on

The Magic of Tupperware

I spent most of yesterday in the kitchen measuring, chopping, dicing, beating, baking and cooking preparing a meal for people I didn’t even know.   Such is the life of the corporate housewife.  (Can you picture me in my frilly apron, my sweaty brow smeared with flour?)  Dave wanted to welcome a couple who were relocating to the C’ville area.  Having made so many moves ourselves, we know what a difference it makes when someone takes the time to help you settle in so we in turn, do the same.

My first task was to choose a menu.  I dove into my cookbooks and then onto the web to find the perfect recipes eventually deciding on a honey lime pork tenderloin with mango salsa and rice pilaf.  For dessert I chose a cream cheese pound cake from Southern Living.  Easy enough, right?  Thanksgiving dinner looks easy enough on paper too.  But, when the pantry and frig  doors  open and all the ingredients are strewn across the counter and the actually preparation begins, time quickens to warp speed until you realize that you’ve spent most of the day on your feet, there is still much to be done and the house is not quite as you would wish it to look. Whew!

I’ve discovered that the best weapon in my arsenal to handle these three ring circus meals is Tupperware.  Yes, Tupperware.  With my arsenal of brightly colored bowls and gadgets, I can prep my ingredients and keep them organized for each step in the cooking process all the way to serving.  I never really realized how much I depend on these treasures until at one point yesterday I surveyed my counter and there were no less than a dozen Tupperware products in use.  I had bowls with burping lids, choppers, measuring cups and spoons, a citrus juicer and pitcher in a kaleidoscope of colors containing  the lime juice, mango, peaches, raspberries, peppers, carrots, celery, onions and garlic ready for action.  How did this happen that so many items purchased at parties throughout the years could be gathered to work in concert towards one end?  I don’t know.  I do know that yesterday I was able to justify all those bits of plastic that fall so clumsily from me cupboards when least expected!

As for the dinner itself, the food was tasty and the couple who entered my front door as strangers left as friends making the hours of toil and today’s aching muscles well worth the effort.

PS.  This has been an uncompensated endorsement of Tupperware.  Thanks to all of you Tupperware Ladies who have through the years carted your station wagons and minivans laden with your wares from house to house to share the marvels of the magic burping bowls.  I couldn’t have done it without you!

 

 

 

Posted on

Stuffy Head – Clear View

I’m not feeling very peppy today.  My nose started running as soon as I was up this morning and soon the sneezing began.   I had planned a trip to Lowes to get materials to customize my pantry.  Well, after dropping Dave’s car off for it’s state inspection, I did make it to Lowes but now that I’m home, my energy and motivation have left me.  The good thing about this (if there is one) is that in my current state of unemployment anything I don’t do today can be done some other day – like writing a witty blog.

I did change to header to my page.  I was going to “borrow” a photo of the Blue Ridge from the web when I remembered we had some snaps in a box we took on our honeymoon.  Notice the grainy effect.   This photo was taken with an Cannon 35mm camera from the last century.  The image may be old, but not so nearly old as the view.  I am gifted with vistas similar to this when I drive to Lowes.  Even with a stuffy head, I know how special that is.