Present - Home

 

Today, and for the next few days, I am “home” in Minnesota.  Only one of my adult children remained where we were all born, and I haven’t lived here since 1997, but it still feels like home.  Whether it’s the landscape, the architecture, or the (thank heavens, summer) weather, this still feels like home.

The occasion is granddaughter’s high school graduation party, but fitting in a few other things as well.  Neighbors are “tending” Oldtimer, and his daughter is checking in virtually.

As I do when I’m back in my current home, I started my day on the patio with my coffee.  This morning was lovely, with light breezes, the bluest skies, greenest grass, birdsong and rustling leaves.  I’m enjoying the scent of the petunias (long since burned out in AZ), and the light fragrance of a blooming milkweed patch.

Feeling some restoration.

Past - April 25, 2023, Wake up Call

There I was, one of my favorite places on earth, doing what I love -  a mini art retreat with dear friends.  Sedona offers art, atmosphere, vistas and shopping.  It was our first full day together, and we were actually primping a bit for supply shopping, when my iPad notified me that the Ring doorbell had been rung, and there was someone waiting for a response.  In the view of my front door I could see the uniformed arm of a county deputy.

Earlier in the day I’d been notified by the Life360 app that Oldtimer had left the house.  We had an agreement as to how much he could spend daily at the casino - his favorite activity when I’m away from home.  We had installed the Life360 app, shared with my daughter’s family, several months before because I’d noticed that with Oldtimer’s love of running errands, there were times he was directionally off kilter.  Nothing severe, it basically affected which of two major streets he turned onto.

My friend was actually seated at the desk where my iPad was plugged in, and I was answering over her shoulder.  My heart plummeted.  Had there been an accident?  No, the very stern deputy told me that he needed to speak to Oldtimer.  After some back and forth, after I offered to notify the deputy when the app told me he was back home, the deputy relented and spoke to me a bit.  His news?  There had been a complaint about Oldtimer by a woman who said he was hassling her in the parking lot of our local grocery store.  She had provided the police with photos, which I agreed were his vehicle.  

The deputy and I chatted a bit; actually eight minutes according to the video. During the conversation I mentioned an upcoming medical appointment to look into Oldtimer’s memory issues.  The deputy’s total demeanor changed to one of understanding and compassion.  He even told me of the issues his family was having with a family member wandering off.  He wound down the conversation with a word of understanding and said it was a family issue and he would leave it to me to deal with.  I didn’t care for that idea, I thought a message like this would have more impact coming from an officer than from me.

You see, for many months - ok, let’s be honest, several years - our relationship had been strained.  Gradually, almost without notice, I’d gone from being adored, practically on a pedestal, to an annoyance.  I chalked it up to way more togetherness, as he’d given up daily golf about eight months prior due to worsening COPD, plus the plain old fact of the marriage passing the twenty year mark.  Add in some pain management issues due to my back problems, and his boredom with lack of physical activity, and who wouldn’t be feeling some strain?  My gut told me that it was more than that, however, and my therapist talked to me about setting behavior standards.

I passed the rest of the day in a state of shock.  I sat in a chair and shook most of the time.  I didn’t eat.  My friends gathered around and put what felt like a protective dome over me, and my therapist checked in with a video visit.  All advised me to stay put, rather than run home.  When Oldtimer returned from the casino he called, asking why the sheriff was at the door = the neighbors had told him.  I told him what had transpired.  His response was that the crazy woman actually accused him of following her in the parking lot, when all he was doing was circling the lot, waiting for a handicapped spot to open up.  And yes, when she stood near his car and accused him of following her, he called her a fat pig.  He was just looking for a parking spot.

The maps drawn by the Life360 app told a different story.

Tuesday - wonder and challenge

 First a bit of wonder - the SpaceX launch Tuesday evening.  Filled me with joy and giddiness.

Tuesday’s health challenge - relatively minor, though the pain is real.  Skin cancer removal.  Use the damn sun blocker, avoid over exposure!

It’s Been a Journey

Posts here have mostly been missing for several years now.  I toss out photos and opinions on Facebook, and occasionally on Instagram.  But y’all… I’ve been on a journey.  A big part of it was through hell, and I’m not sure there’s not another trip or two back there in the future.  There have also been some extraordinary bright spots.

A few days ago, I got an update from a friend’s Substack account, which left me wondering if I should start chronicling this crazy journey there - but I’m not an author/writer.  I’m not trying to promote my work, I just want to have an outlet to chronicle these events, and maybe help someone else along the way.

So here we are - 18 months into the worst of the journey and now I’m going to start chronicling?! Yes.  Maybe I’ll use that currently fashionable writing technique of dual timelines.  Since we’re starting midstream let me give you the basics:

• My age is now early 70s
• Eighteen months ago my husband added behavior problems to memory issues
• We’re divorced; he still lives with me
• It took 18 months of crying, threatening, faxing and more to get answers
• My network of close friends is amazing
• My kids are also amazing, but a couple of them scared me with health issues during this journey
• I’m into year four of therapy

So buckle up - we’ll start this journey at the mid-point. 

I remember…

 I’m an old broad.  I was in high school in the 60s in Minneapolis.  I remember:

*My employed, single aunt applying for a credit card, which she could not get without a male signature.  Her unemployed brother signed for her, and she got it.

*The four married couples in my graduating class; all of them “had to” get married and in one case waited for the boy to turn 16 to be able to get married.

*Abortions weren’t legal - there was the abused girl who knew her father would lose it if he found out she was pregnant, so she douched with bleach; and the girl who tried her own coat hanger approach to an unwanted pregnancy.

*Condoms were kept behind a counter, and had to be requested from a pharmacist.  You had to be age 18 to purchase.

*Only married, or about to be married women could get a birth control prescription.  My doctor required me to produce a marriage license to prove I was going to be married.

*In the early 70s, when my husband and I tried to buy a house, my income could not be considered - only the man’s.

Also, in the good old days girls had to wear dresses or skirts to school - no slacks or jeans; teachers were allowed to slap, pull hair, and use paddles; teachers could decline a hall pass for a girl who unexpectedly got her period at school; employers could fire women who became pregnant.

When my now-husband and I got together, I told him I factored in a political candidate’s stance on reproductive rights in my decision making.  He told me I shouldn’t be a single issue voter, that Roe v. Wade was the settled law of the land.

Men.

This morning I had a rare day of truly being up before the birds.  Cosmo, the cat, decided that we were lie-abeds by staying there past 4:30 AM.  My Oldtimer, bless him, got up to see why the cat was so tortured, but it was too late - I was awake, and got up at 4:45.  After my usual morning routine of “bisquiting” the dogs, checking the litter box, and making a large cup of coffee, I was on the patio to greet the day - in the dark!

I’ve been out early numerous times, but the hummingbirds are always out to greet the day with me.  Today I even beat the hummingbirds.  No birdsong to enjoy - just the early morning commuters, and the trash trucks positioning themselves to start working the neighborhood at 7:00 AM.  I realized how much I take for granted, being able to work from home, starting my day with a cup of coffee on the patio, while the commuters are already on the road, and the outdoor laborers start their day before the sun rises, to beat the often-unbearable heat.

Now, as of 6:15, the sun is brightening the clouds (we have clouds today!), the hummingbirds are chittering nearby, the finches are trying to work the hummingbird feeders, the grackles are zooming overhead.  It won’t be long until I get a morning “caw” from the raven who stops at the electric pole behind our fence almost every day.  Looks like a lovely day.

*Photo at top is the brightening sky above me. Photo at bottom is from yesterday - my little buddy hummingbird, who loves to sit on the bare sticks near my chair.

Self Care/Self Image

Preface - I've written - and deleted - this post at least a dozen times in the last couple days.  It's been tough trying to sort my brain and express it all.  Tonight, after watching the movie "Poms" I decided to just lay it all out here.  Maybe it will encourage other women of a certain age.  Here goes:

About two weeks ago, I left for a visit to my hometown, the place I spent the first 45 years of my life, on a fairly indulgent vacation.  I descended on my daughter and her family - in the midst of a total kitchen gut and renovation - and made their home my base of operation.  Operation "it's all about me!"

I've tried explaining to a few people the way my brain is - or isnt - working of late, and have had a few pooh-poohs, and a whole lot of  "I don't know what to tell you."  Short version... I've been dealing with being triggered during the presidential election, some intensity on the job, some hyper-awareness that I have now achieved the same age my mom was when she died.  That last one has been brutal, despite everyone's assurances that I'm healthier.  All of a sudden, life really is short.  It's too short to carry around low self-esteem, and the baggage of personal issues.

First motivator for the trip - my 50 year high school reunion.  For over 50 years, I have retained a stiff-necked and outspoken pride about the often-maligned high school I attended.  We've already lost about 60 in the class, and despite being an introvert (who is often not recognized even by people who know me well), I decided to put myself out there, walk into a room all by myself, and attend.

Second motivator for the trip - my granddaughter's ninth birthday.  I've missed too many of these milestones with my far-flung children and grandchildren.  As much as I'm trying to be frugal, I need more visits with my children and grandchildren. In fact, this was my second trip this summer to visit my children - I had a week at the NC beach with my son and his family, who always make me feel treasured.

Third motivator for the trip - my Minnesota daughter has opened her own boudoir photography studio.  I wanted to have a session with her.  After listening to her tell me about the shoots she's done, and the women she's met, I finally understood the idea of this type of photography being empowering and bold.  I need to be more bold.  (There's way, way more to all of this than I'm writing here, but trying to explain it is what has kept me from posting.  Suffice it to say - it really is all about trusting your body, taking a leap, and feeling empowered.)

Fourth motivator - through her work, my daughter met a Reiki practitioner; she experienced some incredible healing.  I was going to have a session.

The reunion was phenomenal.  I didnt get to visit with nearly enough people, but there were at least four that I never really knew or talked to in high school, that I sat with and had long getting-to-know-you conversations.  I got to talk to one person who was gracious and kind, even though the last time I saw her, I was not kind.  I got to relive old jokes, hear about favorite teachers, and listen to a speech by our foreign exchange student that confirmed for me that our much maligned high school truly was an extraordinary place, that we came from a unique and good place.

My Reiki healing was incredibly moving and revealing.  I received great guidance for self care, and guidance about paying attention to both my spiritual and health needs.  I've put several things into practice already, and am seeing the difference.

Finally, the boudoir shoot.  I was so nervous, I was almost sick.  I told Bekah (my daughter) that one of the things I hoped to get from the session was to see myself through someone else's eyes.  She took an extraordinary amount of photos.  I tried to justify it all to myself saying I was going to gift the photos to my husband.  Underneath it all though, I knew I was doing it just for me, and that was ok.  How often do women of our age do something just for themselves, really?  When I was about to go to my gate for my flight home, I hugged my daughter and told her the one word that overwhelmed me about the time I spent back home was "grateful"  I can't tell you how intensely grateful I feel for the wellness and boost to self-image I acquired over my long week of self-exploration, for the family I have, and the friends - new and old - that became part of my life again.

The photos?  I've ordered an album of 17 of them, and a canvas print of one.  I have only shown my husband one - the one I'm about to share here - and will probably keep the rest just for me.  They are incredible, in my opinion, but I'm going to treasure them privately, at least for now.

The emotion, the gratitude, the absolutely stunning healing I received from everything from the reunion to the reiki will stay with me for a long time.  Seeing myself through someone else's eyes - invaluable.  Boudoir shoots - what a gift.  I would encourage every woman my age to do it for themselves - don't leave all that luscious self-esteem for the younger generation!  (And if you haven't' seen the movie Poms, do so!)

Photo by New Light Boudoir, Lake Elmo, MN
https://www.newlightboudoir.com/

Book Review - Mrs. Everything, Jennifer Weiner

My reason for posting a book review here is simply because I think that all the women I know, my age, would be as moved by this book as I was.

My online review elsewhere read:

Right now, I want to sit down with Jennifer Weiner, look her in the eye, and tell her 100 things. I want to take her hand, to make sure she hears what I say, and tell her how she captured my growing up era. I'm a baby boomer; we all have stories we want to share, and we all think our stories are the most important. Maybe they are.

I finished this book not five minutes ago. The tears aren't dry yet. I don't do a book synopsis but let me just say, this covers it all, from the perspective of two (fictional) sisters just a titch older than I. It's simply but extraordinarily well done. It's been four years since the last Weiner book, and I can see why. This has to be a true labor of love.

To Jennifer Weiner - I know I can't take you by the hand and tell you my 100 stories, so let me just say this, as simply but deeply as I can... thank you.

The depiction of drug use, as well as sexual abuse will be hard for some readers. I had to power through a couple spots; it was so worth the effort. 

It is also notable that my daughter - daughter of a baby boomer - was equally moved by this book.  Here is part of what she said about it:

"This book was exquisite.  I have so many feelings, and just cannot seem to find the words for them.  My mother grew up in the same generation as the main characters of the story, and I feel like Jennifer Weiner did such an amazing job of capturing that era.  I feel like I have a better understanding of my own mother, who I have always been very close to, her struggles, what it was like to be a child of the 60s, with Depression Erar parents and societal expectations pushing her one way, while movements, peers, and the world seemed to be pushing another."

Looks like my daughter is a better reviewer than I!  Also, just in case others are as slow on the uptake as I am, I read an interview with Jennifer Weiner, which caused me to take a closer look at the title.  It's more significant than I realized, because of the pun...  Mrs. Everything, OR "misses everything."

Thanks to Net Galley, and the publisher, Simon & Schuster for the Advance Reader Copy.  I also purchased a final edition, because this one is worth owning.

Recent Completed Art Projects

Strange how it takes a while to realize I haven't put up photos here...  I guess Facebook has taken over my brain.  Here are some recent art projects:  some collaged "Block Babes,"  two dolls from an online class with Paula McGee, a batch of fabric pumpkins with real stems, and another doll I've named Wisteria.  All thoroughly enjoyable art - and more on my table to be completed soon!

 Block Babes

 Block Babes

 Celeste - face

 Celeste - all

 Terra - face

 Terra - all

Fabric pumpkins

Wisteria

The Moon, Soap, a Book, Other Randomness

We had a full moon last night - it was just dark enough to show well, and just light enough to finish our walk with the dogs, when I took this photo.  Not bad for a phone photo, but it would have been nice to capture the real impact of a late September moon behind drifting clouds.

We're enjoying our return to evening walks.  Right around the time the heat became too outrageous to take our furry pals out, I managed to sprain my ankle, so we had a good excuse to lay off for a while.  There's no describing how excited and agitated the dogs get as soon as walking equipment makes an appearance after dinner.  They love their walks; it's still warm enough that we wait till dusk, and we only walk a mile, but we all enjoy it.  The biggest surprise to me?  Mosquitoes!  I feel so cheated!  I thought moving to a dry climate meant no mosquitoes, but those little creeps have eggs that can wait seven years in a dry spot, plotting for the right rain deluge to set them free.

Yesterday I got an email from a woman who wants to buy soaps as client thank-you gifts.  It's been so long since I had a soap client, my inventory is quite low.  I've said it before - I'll never stop making soap, I love it so, but it always surprises me when I get orders.  My family says I'm not allowed to stop making it, but what they really want are lotions and creams.  While I agree my skin care products are outstanding, it's the soap creation that makes my heart sing.

In the Oldtimer and Lily days, I made about 5,000 bars of soap a year, and had this lovely place to display, and a convenient workroom at the back of the store.  There are so many things I miss about having that store, even though the income was lousy to non-existent!

One of the other things I loved about the store was selling books, especially to the high school kids.  I miss the glow of their faces as they realized there was an adult who would talk to them about Harry Potter, or any other favorite book.  I miss the excitement of a grade-schooler, tugging at her mama's sweater and jumping up and down saying "Books!  They have books, mama!"  I miss the pleasure on the face of the high school counselor who realized we brought in a supply of each of the required reading list for each grade, all in affordable format, and we were passing them on at our cost to the students.  I'm just sorry that our small attempts at being good citizens of the community weren't enough to keep us there; you don't pay bills selling things at cost!  (Don't ever ask me to create your business plan.)

Speaking of books, I just finished an ARC (Advanced Reader Copy) of Jodi Picoult's newest - A Spark of Light.  Picoult never shies away from controversial subjects - in this case a shooting at an abortion clinic in the south - and this book is no exception.  The way she manages to put together a compelling, readable story, that is so clearly well-researched, leaves me in awe.  This one was uniquely told in a reverse timeline fashion that worked surprisingly well. #ASparkofLight

Soon, I'll be traveling for both business and pleasure.  I hope to return to blogging more often (she says for the umpteenth time).

Education

This morning, I dropped my five year old granddaughter off for Kindergarten, just as I've done (four days a week, mostly) since she began her Kindergarten career last July.

Most mornings are pretty routine, although we get a bit of variety when, say... it's spirit week.  I'm particularly fond of pajama day, when one of the teachers is at the door in her footed puppy pajamas, greeting the children.

Since our ritual began last July, I've been tickled to have these few minutes with my granddaughter each day.  Taking her to the gate of the "Kinder playground" is pure pleasure - teachers and aides greet us with smiles and high fives; 99% of the "kinders" run to the school with anticipation and pleasure.  My granddaughter is always alert, asking if we are arriving in time for her to have plenty of playground time before her day starts.

This morning, she was worried... the Kinder playground was empty.  "Are we early?"  No... we're right on time.  "There's no one on the playground!  Are we late?"  No... we're right on time.  I parked, helped her adjust her backpack, and held her hand as we crossed the lot.  We stepped into crossing guard territory and I asked what was going on.  "Oh... there's a stray puppy who has been greeting all the children, and we've confined him to the Kinder lot until we find the owner."

Sure enough, there was a large pit-bull type, panting happily, and surrounded by staff in red shirts.  Did I miss a memo, was today a spirit day?  As I returned to my car, I saw a mom in a red t-shirt with a Red for Ed logo.  It dawned on me what I'd missed, and I wished I hadn't dressed in lavender.  I spoke up, saying "I just realized what the red shirts are for today!"  She looked a little concerned, but acknowledged me.  I told her the movement had my full support, and we chatted a bit.

She was eager to tell me that she worked in the district office, and it really wasn't about raises, it was about science equipment and other things to benefit the kids.  Raises would be nice, but that wasn't all there was to it.  I mentioned that I was originally from Minnesota, but before I could finish my thought, she said "OH!  Then you get it!  Their budget is double ours!"  We talked a bit more, mostly about the fact that despite what others think, we senior citizens do indeed vote in favor of education bills and bonds, despite our concerns that it might not really be getting to the place it's needed.

It seems like a simple enough conversation, and you are probably wondering why I detail it here, but it triggered so many thoughts.  Since moving to AZ, I've been shocked at how poorly the state's elected officials treat education.  I've been shocked at cuts to education funding, I've recognized poor teacher pay, and more.  And I thought about what I've seen in the few months my granddaughter has been in school - teachers with special outfits for spirit day, or working to protect the children from a stray "puppy" that happens to be a largish, eager, pitbull-type who stands at least waist high on the children; asking if parents could pleases help stock the classroom with much needed items like facial tissue or glue or maybe a snack once in a while; the fact that we are always greeted with a pleasant face; the number of teachers who line the sidewalk for the arriving buses.  They aren't just punching a time clock, and putting in their straight eight - they are involved, committed, and doing extra odd jobs without complaint.

Arizona, you could do so much better.  Educated, well-rounded students make good citizens.  Like all employees, well-recognized teachers would only give more of themselves - and not just use their time here as a notch on the training belt to take their experience elsewhere.  What could possibly be more important than giving a good foundation to our future?

Sweet Autumn

(photo of an autumn past)

Early Saturday morning, first cup of coffee on the patio, comfortable in real slippers and a light flannel robe... brought a great deal of reflection.  It began simply enough, with the thought that in other places I've lived, comfortable at this time of year on the patio in a robe would have been surprising in that the weather was warm enough, not cool enough, as is the case now.  I never realized until moving to the Phoenix area, how many of my memories are accessed by visualizing what the seasonal indicators were at the time.  Were there leaves on the trees, was I wearing long sleeves or short?  Though we see seasonal changes here, the most notable is simply the temperature, so the year-round warmth keeps me confused, and I find my year slipping past, thinking once again that it's still summer.  I may never adapt.

This was a rough summer for me.  I've been secretly proud of how relatively untroubled I've been by July's high temps the first few years we lived here.  This year was different, and I found myself thinking summer would never end, wishing for a break.  Lolo always said to be careful of wishing your life away...

Perhaps the long hot summer, or the awareness of blessed coolness, caused me to dip my toe into a bit of melancholy, thinking of autumn activities such as trips to apple orchards and pumpkin patches, wandering the farmer's market filled with the colors of fall in gourds and pumpkins and apples.  Every memory, from our first taste of a fresh apple cider doughnut to pumpkin carving with the kids came clear, and I felt a longing for fallen leaves and the scents of autumn.

In the past, I was never thoroughly able to enjoy fall, because the specter of winter loomed, grinning, over the sweet colorful landscape.  I rushed through those brief fall days, mostly concerned with battening down the hatches, winterizing the yard, and wondering if kids' costumes would fit over winter jackets.

Just as I was about to dive into full-blown melancholy, the sun rose enough to tint the sky peach, lavender, palest blue.  The hummingbirds, usually the first to work the yard in the morning, began their aerial maneuvers overhead, with occasional dips and swoops that defy logic.  Hearing an odd noise to the left, I looked up just in time to see a Gila woodpecker gripping the hummingbird feeder tightly, surely giving me a dirty look for letting it go empty.  These are the memories of autumn in suburban Phoenix, and this is where I'm supposed to be now.  I put down my coffee cup and headed to the kitchen to make hummingbird nectar.

Quick Project Update

Not too much to say today, but because it's been a while since I posted photos of completed projects, I thought I'd share a few photos.

 Tags made on laminate samples, using primarily Tim Holtz ephemera packs for the images.

 Mixed media decorative canvas.

 Things with Wings shrine.

 Decorative pillows from cutter linens

 Painted and redecorated master bedroom.

Junk journal (cover)- some printed digitals, some old papers and junk.

 Inside the junk journal

 Again, inside the junk journal.  (Printed digitals from Ephemera's Vintage Garden.)

 Small mixed media canvas from a class at Craft Fusion - Class by "Blooming Gayls."

Grandmother Clock shrine using base from Joggles and Graphic 45s Halloween in Wonderland.

That's all that I've completed for now.  I seem to have been bitten by the junk journaling bug, and am enjoying using a mixture of purchased digital images, old papers, new papers made to look old, and more.  I'm primarily journaling in Traveler's Notebook sized inserts, but am also enjoying altering old magazines and digital printouts.  I have a couple dolls in the works, but we know how that goes... I'm terribly slow in finishing.

Childhood Sounds

(Dad in his wheelchair)

As a child, one of my favorite things to do was lie in bed and listen to the grown-ups talking in the kitchen.  Sometimes it was late at night, and they were sitting around the kitchen table, discussing the things they didn't want the kids to hear (that's how I found out one of my aunts was expecting her third child).  Other times, it was a late night game of hearts, being re-hashed as to how a hand should have been played.  My favorite time, though, was Saturday morning, when my dad didn't have to go to work, and I could listen to him wheeling around the kitchen; he would sing and whistle, and his wheelchair tires would squeak on the linoleum floor.  Someone, probably my mom, made it a rule that I couldn't get out of bed before 7:00 AM on Saturday, so I would snug down under the covers and just listen.

Weekdays, mom usually made the pot of coffee the night before.  In the morning, she would set it over the flame to re-heat, and I could hear the tap-tap-tap of her wedding ring against the Corning Ware pot, as she tested to see if it was warm enough yet.  Mom hated early mornings, but got up every day to pack dad's lunch, and fix his breakfast - one fried egg, two pieces of bacon, a piece of toast with marmalade (which he dunked into his egg yolk, a taste I never acquired).  As soon as he left, she went back to bed.  To this day, the thought of the tap-tap-tap of a wedding ring against the coffee pot is incredibly comforting.  Those sounds signaled that the routine was in place, and all was right with the world.

Next week, my dad will have been gone 34 years.  It's been longer than that since I've heard the wheels squeak on the floor, the whistling, the songs.  Longer still since I've trailed into the kitchen on a Saturday morning to see his bright blue eyes welcome me, and then have him whisper "it's almost 9:00 o'clock, go in and tell your mom it's time to get up."  I wonder if he knew I could tell time, and knew that 8:15 was not "almost 9:00 o'clock."  He just wanted her to get up to share the morning with him...

Books, Books, Books...

For the past three years, I've given myself a personal challenge to read at least 50 books per year for the Goodreads Reader's Challenge.  Right now, I'm just four books from my goal for the year, and am close to finishing one.

I'm curious - what would all of you recommend as compelling and enjoyable to close out my year?  You can see what I've read in the side bar, where my book montage is featured.

(Currently reading The First Fifteen Lives of Harry August.)

You're up - give me something compelling...