Another year is coming to an end, and with it another decade. It flew by just like all of the others in my recent memory. It seems that once we pass 30, there must be fewer days on the calendar. Or we forget half of the things we did, so time appears to have gone faster. Whatever it is, I don't like it.
However, since one of my New Year's resolutions is to look for the silver lining, I have to try spinning the warp speed passage of time in a positive light. To paraphrase one of Erica's favorite quotes by Abraham Lincoln, it's not the number of years in your life, it's the amount of life in your years. Abe really has something there. If we can pack as much living into however many years we have, does it matter how fast they go?
Each of you take a minute and look back on 2009 to brainstorm the "living," good and bad, that you did. It would be cooler if it were a photo montage set to music, but we'll have to settle for this. I'll use my oh-so-exciting 50th year as an example: life list, San Diego, dogs, blogging, boxes for the troops, Fred, family, wedding dress shopping, Harley riding, river rafting, campfires,writing letters and sending cards, bowling, mothering, two houses, meeting a soldier and sailor, funerals, weddings, wonderful friends, reading, crying, LAUGHING, reunions with college and high school pals, cats, football, walking and coffee with Cindy, golfing, meeting Cathi and Sara, trips, the cabin, yardwork, phone calls, surprise party, 25th anniversary, photography, holidays, good health, lots of driving, self-analyzing...you get the idea. Now to do it all again in the upcoming year, maybe with a few more risks and positive additions.
I have had a blessed year, knock on wood. I wish the best one ever for you in 2010--and I hope I will share in some of your good times.
**The Good Old Times
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Friday, December 18, 2009
Bat Outta Hell
Yes, that is the title of the greatest Meat Loaf album ever, but it's not my topic today. When I was younger, I liked the song "Little Old Lady from Pasadena." It was amusing--the idea of a granny with a red sports car who could give the young guys a run for their money on the highway. Well--those little old ladies aren't just in Pasadena anymore; they're here in the Northwoods, too. And I no longer find them so amusing.
The other day I was crossing from the parking lot to the grocery store when a large ugly car came barreling across my path. It had a Green Bay Packers license plate, and hunched over the wheel was a gray-haired woman in a Packer jacket with a determined look on her face. It was as if she were racing to get to the end zone and anyone in her way could just get plowed under. I jumped back out of the way, thinking I'd at least be happier getting run over by her than a Viking fan.
Later the same day, a blue-haired lady in a Lexus careened out from a stop sign right in front of me, rudely spraying slush and forcing me to brake abruptly to avoid her rear. Just where are these elderly women going in such a rush? A speed dating event at the senior center?
I understand that having one's independence as we age is important; a driver's license equals freedom, mobility, and the good feeling that we don't have to rely on others to get where we want to go. But wisdom is supposed to come with age, not a lead foot and disregard for the rules and etiquette of the road. I have noticed that old men tend to drive 20 mph like they have all day to get to their destination; it's the elderly women who are channeling Dale Earnhardt.
On the way into town today, I followed a PT Cruiser with paneling on the sides and a license plate that read GO GRNNY. I rest my case! And I do relaize that, God willing, I will one day be one of these old ladies behind the wheel. But I can assure you, I will not have blue hair or drive like a maniac. I'll probably let my much younger boyfriend do the driving.
The other day I was crossing from the parking lot to the grocery store when a large ugly car came barreling across my path. It had a Green Bay Packers license plate, and hunched over the wheel was a gray-haired woman in a Packer jacket with a determined look on her face. It was as if she were racing to get to the end zone and anyone in her way could just get plowed under. I jumped back out of the way, thinking I'd at least be happier getting run over by her than a Viking fan.
Later the same day, a blue-haired lady in a Lexus careened out from a stop sign right in front of me, rudely spraying slush and forcing me to brake abruptly to avoid her rear. Just where are these elderly women going in such a rush? A speed dating event at the senior center?
I understand that having one's independence as we age is important; a driver's license equals freedom, mobility, and the good feeling that we don't have to rely on others to get where we want to go. But wisdom is supposed to come with age, not a lead foot and disregard for the rules and etiquette of the road. I have noticed that old men tend to drive 20 mph like they have all day to get to their destination; it's the elderly women who are channeling Dale Earnhardt.
On the way into town today, I followed a PT Cruiser with paneling on the sides and a license plate that read GO GRNNY. I rest my case! And I do relaize that, God willing, I will one day be one of these old ladies behind the wheel. But I can assure you, I will not have blue hair or drive like a maniac. I'll probably let my much younger boyfriend do the driving.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Ine's Gift
I wasn't planning to write a blog today. We got about 6 inches of snow overnight, and it is still coming down, blowing around, and drifting. I went out to take care of the dogs, and they had snowy faces and wagging tails, like, "WOW, Mom, isn't this the greatest??!" I shoveled the front steps and came inside to wrap presents and work on more Christmas cards...but then I looked at my Christmas cactus and decided to blog instead.
I am not a good plant person. I forget to water them, and was never adept at carrying on a conversation with them. My best friend Mary gave me a plant in 1981 that I managed to keep alive for 25 years, but it finally up and died from lack of companionship.
Two years ago our dear friend Ine moved into a nursing home. I have written about her before; she was the girls' babysitter from the time they were newborns until Erica started school. When she moved out of her apartment, we inherited a good share of her belongings--including her Christmas cactus. I felt bad for the plant, knowing it was probably resigned to a slow, painful death in my care. I had it sitting on an end table in full sunlight, and a friend told me they do better in a cool environment with indirect sun. Duh! In the past I have gone a month or two without watering it, and finally give it a drink when I see the leaves wilting. But it hung in there, and last December rewarded my neglect with a single beautiful blossom.
Well, I haven't treated the plant any better this year--but I noticed a few days ago that it had at least two dozen buds ready to blossom, on almost every stem!! (or whatever you call them). And last night--some were blooming!! It is definitely a miracle, because by all rights that plant should be dead, or at least in intensive care. I am thinking of its profuse display of beauty as a Christmas card from Ine, and a sign that all is well in Heaven with her and Pop--who died 12 years ago today. To them and all our other loved ones who aren't with us anymore, we love and miss you! You're always in our hearts.
Merry Christmas! And maybe Santa will bring me a plant book this year.
I am not a good plant person. I forget to water them, and was never adept at carrying on a conversation with them. My best friend Mary gave me a plant in 1981 that I managed to keep alive for 25 years, but it finally up and died from lack of companionship.
Two years ago our dear friend Ine moved into a nursing home. I have written about her before; she was the girls' babysitter from the time they were newborns until Erica started school. When she moved out of her apartment, we inherited a good share of her belongings--including her Christmas cactus. I felt bad for the plant, knowing it was probably resigned to a slow, painful death in my care. I had it sitting on an end table in full sunlight, and a friend told me they do better in a cool environment with indirect sun. Duh! In the past I have gone a month or two without watering it, and finally give it a drink when I see the leaves wilting. But it hung in there, and last December rewarded my neglect with a single beautiful blossom.
Well, I haven't treated the plant any better this year--but I noticed a few days ago that it had at least two dozen buds ready to blossom, on almost every stem!! (or whatever you call them). And last night--some were blooming!! It is definitely a miracle, because by all rights that plant should be dead, or at least in intensive care. I am thinking of its profuse display of beauty as a Christmas card from Ine, and a sign that all is well in Heaven with her and Pop--who died 12 years ago today. To them and all our other loved ones who aren't with us anymore, we love and miss you! You're always in our hearts.
Merry Christmas! And maybe Santa will bring me a plant book this year.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Wally World Wip-off
I don't like shopping at Walmart, even on a good day. There are several reasons for it--the main one is philosophical regarding the way they treat employees; the others are just the annoyances of too many people, not enough check-outs operating, chaos in the parking lot, etc. The only reason I go there every week is because it carries the dog and cat supplies that I prefer for our pets. Well, today I discovered another reason to be wary of Wally World.
Awhile back I received a forward in my e-mail, warning of a scam going on at various Walmart stores. In a nutshell, it said that when a customer uses a credit card at the check-out, "cash back" money was being added to their total without their knowledge. Then the clerk would take the cash and give it to a friend, the next person in line. The customer wouldn't realize what had happened unless he/she made a point of checking the receipt, or until they received their credit card statement--and how could they convince the bank days or weeks after the fact that they hadn't received cash back??
I've received many e-mail warnings over the years, like don't lick envelopes because the glue has rat pee in it; or is it that pop can tops have rat pee on them from sitting in the warehouse? I can't remember--but this particular warning about Walmart, I did file away.
Today I was there getting my weekly stuff, and at the check-out I used my Discover card. On the screen it asked if I wanted cash back and I said NO. If I had been putting stuff back in the cart, I may not have noticed what came next--but I was paying attention. The next screen said: "You have requested $60 back in cash." What???!! I told the clerk what it said and that I did NOT want cash back. "Oh," she replied, "just press 'no'." She was a young woman, didn't seem nervous or strike me as trying to rip me off--so is it the whole Walmart POS system that's pulling these shenanigans? Can the clerk, from his/her side of the register, override your "no" and put "yes" to cash back if you aren't paying attention? I would think that at this time of year, with everyone in a hurry and millions of people shopping for the holidays, this scam could mean big bucks to a lot of employees in a lot of stores.
So when using plastic, carefully read every screen and check your receipts immediately to make sure you haven't been charged for money you never asked for--not just at Walmart, but everywhere. Pass this on to your friends and family (I can always use more readers!)
Awhile back I received a forward in my e-mail, warning of a scam going on at various Walmart stores. In a nutshell, it said that when a customer uses a credit card at the check-out, "cash back" money was being added to their total without their knowledge. Then the clerk would take the cash and give it to a friend, the next person in line. The customer wouldn't realize what had happened unless he/she made a point of checking the receipt, or until they received their credit card statement--and how could they convince the bank days or weeks after the fact that they hadn't received cash back??
I've received many e-mail warnings over the years, like don't lick envelopes because the glue has rat pee in it; or is it that pop can tops have rat pee on them from sitting in the warehouse? I can't remember--but this particular warning about Walmart, I did file away.
Today I was there getting my weekly stuff, and at the check-out I used my Discover card. On the screen it asked if I wanted cash back and I said NO. If I had been putting stuff back in the cart, I may not have noticed what came next--but I was paying attention. The next screen said: "You have requested $60 back in cash." What???!! I told the clerk what it said and that I did NOT want cash back. "Oh," she replied, "just press 'no'." She was a young woman, didn't seem nervous or strike me as trying to rip me off--so is it the whole Walmart POS system that's pulling these shenanigans? Can the clerk, from his/her side of the register, override your "no" and put "yes" to cash back if you aren't paying attention? I would think that at this time of year, with everyone in a hurry and millions of people shopping for the holidays, this scam could mean big bucks to a lot of employees in a lot of stores.
So when using plastic, carefully read every screen and check your receipts immediately to make sure you haven't been charged for money you never asked for--not just at Walmart, but everywhere. Pass this on to your friends and family (I can always use more readers!)
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Totally Cellular
I lived the first 40 years of my life without a cell phone, and have now had one for the past ten. At first we just had one phone, used only when necessary. Then as the girls got older and started driving, we got a 4-phone plan so they would have one to carry with them for emergencies. Well, as anyone with teenagers knows, "emergencies" soon became multiple minutes of overtime charges on the monthly bill. Then they discovered texting, so we got the basic texting plan. This also turned into extra money, with Fred and Erica being the biggest culprits. Now we have unlimited texting and seldom incur overages on anything.
What amazes me about these phones is that we all got along fine without them for so long, and now it's like losing a limb if we forget it at home when we walk out the door. Or if the battery goes dead and the charger isn't available. Or if I'm in the hills of Mindoro or the remote Amberg Hilton, where good signals are few and far between. It's not that I talk on it that much, and 99% of my calls are with Fred, Erica, and Katie. I just like to know that it's there if I'd really need it.
I try to be polite and not answer calls or texts when I'm with a friend--that's what voicemail is for, right? However, it's obvious that some people are so self-absorbed that every call has to be taken immediately--or when they are supposed to be spending time with you, they are calling other people instead. It's like, "This person is boring, are you doing something better?"
I've heard phones ring at weddings, in theaters, and in classes. Movie theaters are alight with phone screens right before the show starts, as if everyone has to check for any up-to-the-second communications before turning it off for 90 minutes. I only recently learned how to put my phone on vibrate--before that I'd just leave it in the car. For all I know, my little LG can bake a cake--but I've never taken the time to explore how to fully use it.
This morning I did some shopping in Rhinelander, and I was treated to several amusing examples of the "I'm in Public But Nobody's Listening" syndrome. Why do people think that they can talk at full volume in close quarters, but no one else will hear their private business?
Standing in line at the Walgreens pharmacy, I got to hear a young guy in his 20s arguing with his girlfriend. "Don't you care enough to come over here and see me?" he demanded. Ah, a long distance relationship. "What's so degrading to you about that?" a few minutes later. Only hearing one side of the conversation, I was left to imagine to what he referred: some weird fetish? A girl from the big city dissing little old Rhinelander? Next I went to Kohl's and encountered a snarling woman with a cartful of holiday items: "I'm not hauling out all the Christmas crap this year, it's too much work! Nobody cares anyway!" Joy to the World!
The best, though, was in the toy aisle at Shopko. A frazzled-looking mom was talking to a kid who was apparently home sick. She said, "I'll be home in a half hour; can't you wait till then?" Pause. "Well go in the medicine cabinet and it should be on the second shelf. But don't take your dad's pills!!" she warned emphatically. Hmm, I wondered. What's he taking? Viagra? Arsenic? All three people were standing right next to me as they shared their private lives, but none acted as if I were even there.
So yes, the wireless revolution is wonderful, annoying, rude, convenient and hilarious. It makes us want-- Oops, gotta go. My phone is ringing.
What amazes me about these phones is that we all got along fine without them for so long, and now it's like losing a limb if we forget it at home when we walk out the door. Or if the battery goes dead and the charger isn't available. Or if I'm in the hills of Mindoro or the remote Amberg Hilton, where good signals are few and far between. It's not that I talk on it that much, and 99% of my calls are with Fred, Erica, and Katie. I just like to know that it's there if I'd really need it.
I try to be polite and not answer calls or texts when I'm with a friend--that's what voicemail is for, right? However, it's obvious that some people are so self-absorbed that every call has to be taken immediately--or when they are supposed to be spending time with you, they are calling other people instead. It's like, "This person is boring, are you doing something better?"
I've heard phones ring at weddings, in theaters, and in classes. Movie theaters are alight with phone screens right before the show starts, as if everyone has to check for any up-to-the-second communications before turning it off for 90 minutes. I only recently learned how to put my phone on vibrate--before that I'd just leave it in the car. For all I know, my little LG can bake a cake--but I've never taken the time to explore how to fully use it.
This morning I did some shopping in Rhinelander, and I was treated to several amusing examples of the "I'm in Public But Nobody's Listening" syndrome. Why do people think that they can talk at full volume in close quarters, but no one else will hear their private business?
Standing in line at the Walgreens pharmacy, I got to hear a young guy in his 20s arguing with his girlfriend. "Don't you care enough to come over here and see me?" he demanded. Ah, a long distance relationship. "What's so degrading to you about that?" a few minutes later. Only hearing one side of the conversation, I was left to imagine to what he referred: some weird fetish? A girl from the big city dissing little old Rhinelander? Next I went to Kohl's and encountered a snarling woman with a cartful of holiday items: "I'm not hauling out all the Christmas crap this year, it's too much work! Nobody cares anyway!" Joy to the World!
The best, though, was in the toy aisle at Shopko. A frazzled-looking mom was talking to a kid who was apparently home sick. She said, "I'll be home in a half hour; can't you wait till then?" Pause. "Well go in the medicine cabinet and it should be on the second shelf. But don't take your dad's pills!!" she warned emphatically. Hmm, I wondered. What's he taking? Viagra? Arsenic? All three people were standing right next to me as they shared their private lives, but none acted as if I were even there.
So yes, the wireless revolution is wonderful, annoying, rude, convenient and hilarious. It makes us want-- Oops, gotta go. My phone is ringing.
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