Perfect Moments

Goals. Short term, long term, in-between, everyone has or has had goals of some sort. Essentially, goals seem to be a tangible thing that one can reach out and touch. The most common are New Year’s resolutions, which are usually broken before they are barely started…all hail those lofty goals brought in by the over-indulgences of the past year. People seem to have more luck with Lenten goals, be they giving up soft drinks, or doing a kind deed a day, but once Easter hits, boom! They are dismissed – penance served and time off for good behavior. Young people tend to make life goals – be a millionaire by age 30, be a doctor, nurse, ballerina, or cowboy. High school and college aged people just want to make it thru finals and to summer. Sometimes they are attainable fairly easily, and sometimes they are mere pipe dreams: wouldn’t it be nice if….

The mister and I were recently spending a lovely evening on the deck, listening to tunes and randomly talking when we somehow got off onto the subject of perfect moments, those events and places in time that make one smile and feel deeply contented when brought to mind. Here are a few of ours (and yes, we tended to have the same ones.)

Friday nights spent on the mister’s folk’s patio, with family, friends, music, drink, food and much laughter. Attendees ranged from teens to 60’s and all enjoyed. We were relaxed and complete.

A day at Rock Lane Lodge west of Branson, sitting in the shade of the balcony, eating, drinking, and playing endless games of Yahtzee and Zilch. I was five months pregnant, almost 40, and unknowingly about to spend the next few months in and out of the hospital, lying on my left side in order to keep being pregnant as long as possible. I recall the time as the perfect calm before the storm. Followed by that winter standing next to the crib of our miracle baby and just watching him sleep, deep in the love of new parents, wishing for him the world.

Another day at the upper pool at Rock Lane Lodge, where the kid, at approximately age eight, had us dropping our jaws as he taught himself complex dives.

Thanksgivings and Christmas Eves, laughing around the table with family, and then watching the nephew and nieces go crazy.

A night at the Tropicana in Las Vegas, where we went to the pizza parlor at the bottom level of the spiral staircase leading to the Folly Bergere, and people watched while we shared a pie and a pitcher of beer.

Bursting our buttons with pride, as the kid set a school record in cross country, and lettered all four years in track and cross country, despite having no ACL. Had it not been for knee surgery disrupting the last half of cross country his senior year, he would have been the first to go to state all four years. For a teenager to persevere in that much pain for so long is a tribute to his determination and dedication, and that alone gives us contentment in knowing we raised him to conquer the odds.

Evening after evening spent on our deck, doing nothing except talking, laughing, listening to music, with a few good snacks and libations.

I see a pattern here and it does not contain things. All those precious moments consist of being together and appreciating what we have. Other than the small amount of money it took for a couple of mini vacations, our most precious memories involve ourselves, our family, music, and time to relax. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if everyone took the time out to appreciate what they have rather than what they want? As I told the mister the other night, when I look at what I have, I have everything I really ever wanted….a family and a home. Sure we had a decent (at times) jobs that helped to purchase our home, as well as 7,593 pair of running shoes for the kid over the years, but our contentment does not lie in things, but in moments.

I challenge you to get off the possession bandwagon, and search for the peace and harmony perfect moments can give. I would be willing to bet that you find the same thing. As Hitch said, it’s not the breaths you take, but the moments that take your breath away.

Top Ten Favorite CD's.

Since my first adult trip to the lake, the biggest task has not been where to stay, what to do, or what clothes to pack – it’s been what music to take. Sometime in the not too distant past, I ran across a list (made pre-iTunes) of songs I wanted on a playlist, not all of which I owned. Those were the days of mixed tapes. If you are old enough to remember those, you are old enough.  LOL. With the advent of iTunes, every wish was granted, and it was possible to spend ninety nine cents (those were the days) and Just. Get. One. Song. I saved the list (but forgot where I stashed it) and recently (i.e. the past few years) have been making a list of my top ten favorite albums. So without further ado, and in no particular order except for my first pick, here they are.

1.   Sting – All This Time. Recorded in Italy on 9-11-2001, it is now on YouTube, along with a separate documentary recorded earlier that day after the horror in New York City happened. Should they cancel the concert? Should any of the set list be trashed? Fortunately the concert went on, and they made the beautiful decision to start the concert with a haunting rendition of Fragile. Without a doubt, this is my number 1 CD of all time. One of the few CDs I have to listen to in its entirety, in the proper order. They are all favorite songs.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CV2sdtSCdgo

2.   Hall and Oates – Live At the Troubadour. What can I say, but time has done justice to Daryl’s voice. Cabdriver is definitely in my top 5 songs of all time.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pd8TDGd-Zqs

3.   Loggins and Messina – Sitting In Again: Live in Santa Barbara.  Be Free is my favorite on this one.       https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRGjiUklBB8

4.   Don Henley – Building the Perfect Beast. Hard pressed to pick a favorite, this is another listen to the entire CD in order selection.     https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g6z_NfTe6SI&list=PLFoEwxPErEvY9bsQeFZqmZsuPumeBRykr

                

5.   Bryan Adams  - Unplugged. What’s to say? Any Unplugged CD is exquisite, this one more so. A third full CD in order selection.           https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UMe7WdK-XKo&list=PL1T0hHFDjgDFOL7MAX9rBUMfq04aWnu5X

6.   Boz Scaggs – Lordy, this one is hard to pick a single CD for, but I’ll kind of cheat and pick Greatest Hits Live, recorded in 2004. His voice had had time to mature and mellow, and so many songs have a jazzy/bluesy note. All are fabulous, but Look What You’ve Done to Me is a particular favorite.                                                               https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wNKQ7RRXfk

  

7.   Allman Brothers – Live at Fillmore East                                 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hIRBLUh3MGM

8.   Allman Brothers – Hittin’ the Note.   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BRHy036_H4I

9.   Bob Seeger – sort of cheating again – Ultimate Hits: Rock and Roll Never Forgets.  I always forget how great he is until I listen to this.                                            https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WPSZkCt2nWM                                                                

10. Cleo Laine – Wordsongs.  Talk about your complete departure from the first nine, but her voice, subject choice, and inflection, paired with her late husband John Dankworth’s arrangements and woodwind accompaniment, is nothing short of brilliant. I sing Dunsinane Blue for days after hearing it. This is not the CD per say, but is very close (the youtube is in two parts. Much of it is Shakespeare put to music.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gBADj2eTIuM

While I thought picking my top ten CDs was hard, picking my top ten all-time favorite songs is excruciating. Do you dare to do one or the other? Let me know what they are.

Here's to the Class of 1968!

Back in the summer of 2013, my phone rang. It was high school classmate asking about our 45^th reunion. Although we had never been friends or hung out, I remembered her. At the end of our conversation (which I recall was quite long and filled with laughter), I asked if they needed any help. A few days later, I got a list of people to call, and over the next two weeks, attempted to track down and capture these classmates…only one of whom I knew (we had a class of 500+.) It was one of the best moves of my life.

That September, we all gathered in a hotel ballroom and got reacquainted with some and acquainted with others. A bond was formed that defies description. These great, wonderful goofy, men and women have become part of some of my most cherished memories the past three years.

Three of us bodacious ladies, live in a triangle, five minutes from each other and have for nearly 20 years without knowing. We decided to meet for lunch each month. Those monthly lunches have grown and moved locations, but all for the good. High school definitions of ‘friendship’ were immediately erased, and as we add to the group, we have more fun. The angels, devils, brains, popular, unpopular, and the unnoticed, have all melded into highly entertaining, bodacious, fun as all get-out 66 year olds. Some have great grandchildren, some never had children, but we all keep in sometimes daily touch, and love on each other’s offspring and furbabies.

We band together like no one’s business when one of us or ours, needs prayers. We are a fierce group of prayer warriors. Fierce. We have hula hooped outside of an Olive Garden. We have cried over the death of a parent, a friend, and furbabies. We have supported each other through thick and thin, taken countless photos, and exchanged enormous amounts phone calls, texts, FB messages and tons of hugs and kisses.

In September 2015, some of these women and their husbands, joined some of our male class members and their wives on our first annual Fun Run – we met from all different points in Branson Missouri, some on motorcycles, some in family vehicles, and had a completely wonderful weekend. Dinner on Thursday while watching a Chiefs and the Royals in a sports bar and grille was followed by caravanning to Eureka Springs, Arkansas on Friday. Saturday was spent touring Rock Lane Lodge and the golf course and just noodling around the sights outside of Branson, after which a classmate who lives there, hosted us for a wind-down evening of coffee and pie from their beautiful deck and patio. After a wonderful breakfast Sunday morning, we all headed back to our respective homes, phones and camera full of photos, and lots of memories to share. We are hooked. We’re doing it again this year.

The fellowship of this wonderful group of people is incredible, and when the large group of us join hands for prayer before our meals, you can feel the love and respect and thankfulness flow thru your fingers. We might have been nerds, outlaws, or whatever back in the 60s, but today, we are people who have lived great lives and are truly thankful for all we have earned and been given.

I am so thankful for answering that call three years ago. So very, very thankful. I love you guys and gals.

The post in which I undoubtedly piss some people off and lose a few friends

What I am royally pissed off about today is people’s “political” beliefs that because a person is transgender, gay, or lesbian, it automatically means they are a pedophile. I don’t know what type of Kool-Aid they are drinking but I wouldn’t serve it to the owner of the dog somewhere south of my house who barks all day, every day, non-stop, and sometimes into the night.

In my life, I have known and counted as my friends, non-heterosexual, non-birth-gender-dressing people. I have found them to be funny, smart, normal people in every way. None of them ever expressed a sexual interest in children or me, regardless of what the fear-mongering websites throw out as ‘statistics.” On the other hand, I have known supposedly normal hetero-sexual people who made lewd and suggestive comments about wives, girlfriends, husbands, wives, or children of the same or different gender. If your state has such a website, just look at the list of sexual predators on your area. I would daresay that the majority are married men and women, or if not married, consider themselves non-transgender, and non-homosexual. That being the case, and using the unfounded and untrue reasoning that transgender, gays, and lesbians are pedophiles strictly because of their orientation, it therefore stands to reason that any person with any sexual orientation whatsoever must be a pedophile. Lock us all up and list us all as sexual predators. Ridiculous, you say? How is it any more rididulous to say that, than to say he’s gay so he must get off on little boys, she’s lesbian and prefers little girls, or that person is transgender and preys on adults and children who dress like them?

Yes, I have been in the woman’s restroom while the person in the next stall, wearing expensive heels, peed standing up and facing the toilet. More than once. When finished, that person washed his/her hands, carefully reapplied lipstick and checked the hairdo. I might have been surprised, but not once was I harassed or made to feel uncomfortable by that person….any uncomfortable feeling came from my own fears and prejudices, and to be honest, I am far, far more concerned with people using the restroom and then exiting without washing their hands. Yes, there are going to be predators who take advantage of the situation, but guess what….they’ve been doing it for years and years.

The family restroom has been a growing trend for a few years now, and how I wish they had them when I was raising my son. I never got a second look when taking my three year old into the ladies room, but boy, the looks women gave men taking their three year old daughters into the men’s room, although because of the openness of urinals, I can somewhat understand that. Still, what is an opposite sex parent to do when a family restroom is not available? As a rule, public restrooms are busy places and more often than not, you wait in line to get a vacated stall. Can’t see much assault and perversion happening among that many people.

Overall, I don’t get it, I don’t understand it, and I am tired of people quoting Bible phrases to me in their defense. I happen to know enough Bible (and read it daily as guidance for my own life) to realize that you can justify anything with a Bible verse. If you want me to go there, according to the Bible, when my husband’s brother passed two years ago, my husband was honor and duty bound to take Bob’s wife as his own, so don’t try quoting chapter and verse to me, because I can come back with chapter and verse to refute you. For once, why don’t we try accepting people as people? Not as white, black, red, or yellow; not as skinny or fat; not as believing in God, Buddah, or no higher power; not as men or women; not as rich or poor, but instead, as people who underneath our skin have the same skeletal makeup. There will always be aberrations, and let’s strive to treat them as such, and not lump an entire class of people together. That’s what’s not fair.

Friends

We all have acquaintances we have amassed during our walk through life. People we nod to and engage in a brief conversation when thrown together at the same place at the same time. We tolerate some, genuinely like others, and a few, if we are lucky, become part of a deeply bonded friendship. The older I get, the more I value those wonderful people I call friends.

My first one came in kindergarten. God help me, but I cannot remember her name, even while staring at a photograph my mother took, but I do remember the bond we shared: finger painting was cool, jacks were hard, Miss Muncil, our teacher was like the best grandma, and Charles P. was a pest. She taught me that common interests were fun.

In 4^th grade, I remember a girl named Helen who was badly scarred from severe burns. She cried when I held hands with her because no one else wanted to touch her. She taught me that a kind word or deed can do so much to help heal a heart. I only remember her in 5^th grade…I don’t recall her before or after and assume she moved. I often wondered if kids got kinder or more cruel as she got older. Did she find a wonderful man who could see past her outer shell and have compassionate children who grew up knowing that different is not to be shunned? Do others value her now, the same way I did in 1960 or 1961? I hope and pray she has had a fabulous life.

From 4^th though 6^th grades, I had a friend named Norine who was the only Jewish child in a sea of Catholics, Episcopalians, Baptists, Presbyterians, and Methodists. For her 11^th or 12^th birthday, her mom invited me to come to dinner or lunch for Norine’s birthday (I was the only guest) and served her best Kosher spaghetti. From Norine, I learned that people of other “unusual” religions were no different from me, even if their customs were the opposite of mine. Writing this prompted me to try and find her, and I think I found her on Facebook and shot her a message. Grinning like crazy here. I have been lucky enough to re-connect with three other elementary school friends and have a photo of the three of us taken almost 3 years ago. We laughed and talked and looked at old photos that night. What a fun time it was.

Junior high school (grades, 7 thru 9) brought more friends, and also teenage trauma, as my family switched school districts halfway through the first year, and I was ‘forced’ to leave my friends behind. Fortunately, I made new ones, and still have a few of them. We moved again halfway thru my sophomore year of high school, and the find new friends cycle started anew. Not surprisingly, there were a few kids from my old elementary and junior high schools, and although some of us had not been close friends before, just seeing a familiar face made that teenage angst of being possibly not liked a little easier. Most of us kept up with each other right after graduation, but as the world turns so do our lives, and we mostly lost track of each other as we moved for college, work, married, had children, and our lives started revolving around our own little nuclear families. Neighbors, parents of our childrens’ friends, co-workers, and friends of our partners became our new friends, and because of the lessons we learned from our childhood friends, our circles became even wider.

Then at some point in life you receive that dreaded high school reunion invitation in the mail, and those danged teenage insecurities rear their ugly heads. My insecurities came with my 45^th reunion invitation a few years ago. Initially, I was excited and almost giddy. Newly retired, I jumped in and volunteered to help track down and make calls to classmates who had not responded. I was part of the crowd that melded unnoticed into the background…making those calls to kids who were way cooler than me, albeit 45 years ago, required an enormous amount of courage. Some of them didn’t remember me at all, but a surprising number did, and wanted to talk, even though we had exchanged all of a dozen words in three years of school. I started to form new old friendships. The reunion weekend arrived, and although I approached it with much trepidation (after all, I was a lot older and heavier than then), but quickly found my fears unfounded. My Facebook friends expanded, and I am so enormously elated to say that my true friends also multiplied.

We are now a couple years away from a 50^th reunion, but a number of us haven’t waited for it to get together again. We gals try to have lunch monthly, weather and proximity permitting. Last year a group of us got together for a motorcycle, classic car, and general “fun run” long weekend. Another is planned for this year, and as long as we are able, plan on making it an annual event. I adore these people. They bring me delight every day, and as we age, lose parents, spouses, siblings, become grand and great-grandparents, face illnesses, trials, and tribulations, we seem to be growing closer and more dear to each other.

So, my advice to you is take a chance and look up some friends from childhood. In this age of the Internet, it isn’t all that hard, and I can vouch for the richness of the reward when you connect anew and make an old acquaintance a new friend and make an old friendship even deeper. As we sang in Brownies, “Make new friends, but keep the old. One is silver and the other, gold.” Here's to hearing from Norine.

The one where I attempt to conquer sheer terror

On March 31, I did it. To be factual, I didn’t actually do it, but committed to it. Come to think of it, I didn’t even commit…..I just let them pick a date for it to be done seven weeks a three days from then. How I went from seeing the orthopedist about pain management for my knee and ending up with a surgery date for total knee replacement, I have no idea. I do know that Tracy, the physicians assistant, ended up just handing me the box of tissues because I couldn’t control my emotions. By the time she brought in the surgeon, I was starting the wailing all over again.

In the last 25-1/2 years, I have had a c-section, gall bladder removed, repair of a strangulated hernia, a complete hysterectomy, and cataracts removed from both eyes with iol’s implanted. I am no stranger to surgery, hospitals, and recovery. The cataract surgery scared me because I did not understand how I would not see scalpels and stuff doing evil things to my eye. Reassurance from everyone who had undergone the procedure didn’t help, consequently, it took a lot of Versed for the first eye, and one dose for the second (since I was an old pro and all.) This time, however, I am terrified.

Once again, I know at least a dozen people who have had successful TKRs, and they have all assured me that it is well worth it. I have no doubt of that, but after literally spending many completely sleepless nights with my son after his three knee surgeries, seeing the level of pain he went thru for ACL, meniscus, and kneecap repair, I am practically frozen with fear about having parts of my bones cut, shaved, and replaced with mechanicals that will have to probably be screwed into surviving bone.

I am a big baby when it comes to pain. I hate it and cannot bear even a paper cut. That said, the amount of knee pain osteoarthritis has produced sent me for my first cortosteroid shot in September 2014 and every 3-4 months after that. Last year, they basically quit working, and not only was the mere act of walking crippling to my knee, but because of how I limped, became crippling to my lower back as well. I can now no longer make a sandwich without sitting down halfway thru, and the 15 stair steps from the bedroom level to the living level are some days completely impossible. At night the pain is so intense I’d play solitaire on the computer from 11 until 5-6am, then grab some sleep until 10 out of sheer exhaustion. Facing extreme pain on a daily basis, finally let me say yes to the surgery to give me a bionic knee, despite the terror it invokes in my heart and mind.

They tell me that because of the steep stairs at home, I will probably spend a couple of weeks in a rehab facility, until (a) they feel I can come down all 15 without going ass over teakettle, or (b) Medicare/Blue Cross reaches their limit. After all the rehab places my dad went to, I am NOT looking forward to that scenario no matter how pretty they are. Like Eric, when the pain got the best of him, I want immediate relief. I do not want strangers to hand me the pill I asked for two hours ago then walk off to their computer game. A friend of my son is a therapist and told Eric that I need to get placed where he works. I need to talk with Curtis myself and learn from him what to expect/look for in case they are not on my doctor’s list.

One thing I know that I don’t want is visitors and that includes family. I remember being in a drugged haze after other surgeries, and feeling like I had to entertain the people who were there, when all I wanted to do was to be left alone to sleep, watch tv, or read. A patient has precious little time to themselves while hospitalized and for me, visitors are worse than being awakened every three or four hours for vitals. It’s probably why I tend to stay away from hospital visits when friends or family are patients. So, when late May and early June get here, before you ask what you can do or bring me, my answer is peace and quiet. It’s not that I don’t like/love you….it’s because I don’t want to feel like I am a sideshow attraction in the circus, there for people to watch and for me to entertain them with witty conversation when all I want to do is scream with pain or frustration.

I am ready for this (kinda.) I have a new knee length robe, hospital appropriate pajamas, and sneakers for twice a days while I am in the hospital. I have already determined what comfortable clothes to take to rehab. I have a stockpile of books on the Kindle, and my Amazon Fire to keep in touch with everyone. I have even given Tom’s number to the kid who mows our lawn so he can remind Tom to leave him payment. I am not taking my phone. Email will work just fine, because I can answer it when I feel like it. Between the hard work that I know therapy will be, and making sure Tom and Eric fend off visitors, I am going to treat this like a spa vacation, then come August when I hopefully am driving again (my right knee is the ornery critter in question), I am scheduling myself for a real one.

Restaurant Food Has Now Gone Plaid

Who decided we need a half pound burger? Seriously? Add in an oversized (and I mean extra thick) “artisanal" bun, be it pretzel, brioche, challah, ciabatta, a half inch to three quarters inch or more of condiments (extra thick home style pickles, tomato, onion rings/straws, peppers, and whatever the heck else, the single burger is now a 4” tall knife and fork meal.

Mind you, I don’t eat out any more but read menus like 13 year old boys read their dad’s porn magazines, and I am now seeing 10 and 12 ounce burgers becoming the norm. Give me a GenDare from Fritz’s (a local burger place) any day of the week. Reminiscent of an old-time bowling alley burger, Fritz’s uses about 1/10-1/8^th of a pound of ground beef (smushed flat and slightly crispy on the edges), mustard, pickles, grilled onions, a normal, flat, grilled bun, and for the piece-de-resistance, a small layer of crispy hash brown potatoes. The entire sandwich is maybe 2” tall. The only thing that could make it more perfect is a fried egg.

In my internet menu stalking, I have noticed that while burgers are becoming unmanageable unless you bring a crane, in “fine” restaurants, the food is becoming smaller, and precious to the point of making it appear the chef is going for his degree in fine art, not cooking food. I can't even identify this plate of alleged food.

Even favorites like Mexican and Italian are getting in on the stupid sized food act. Must chefs compare the size of their schwartz's even in the kitchen? Who really wants 10 layer lasagna or a 22" burrito? 

Now they are getting crazy with giant and artsy fartsy desserts. Is there a plate big enough for a slice of pumpkin/apple/pecan pie-cake?

What about a cheesecake that takes longer to decorate a slice of than to eat (and looks like a hyperactive three year old high on Halloween candy built it)?

And lastly, is it even possible to get a frosty malt and wooden spoon at a baseball game these days or are we forever doomed to precious little piles of fluff like a churro dog? I am afraid for the fate of normal food. As they said in Spaceballs, we've gone plaid.