I’ve always loved this little poem. I remember learning it from my older siblings and feeling quite clever when I could recite it on my own. Today this Wednesday’s child is full of woe. Mr. Smith and I arrived back in Wilkes Barre late afternoon on Monday. I had woken up with a sore throat that morning but decided it would be gone when I woke up on Tuesday. I had many projects I wanted to tackle and I’m lousy at taking time out to be sick. Unfortunately, my sore throat won and I woke up Tuesday feeling quite miserable. Not bad enough to justify staying in bed, but not feeling like hitting the gym and conquering the world. So I napped a little, made a pot of soup, and finished addressing my Christmas cards.
I did also make it down to the mailroom for the mail. While there were only four catalogs in my mailbox yesterday, it’s clear that the Christmas shopping season is in full gear. Check out my blog on Sunday for my musings on Christmas shopping for my grandkids.
I will remember 2019 as the year of the road trip. I have logged many hours and miles across Pennsylvania and Ohio and down to Washington D.C. I spent time with my sister and my mother-in-law, I connected with an old friend, and spent an almost dangerous amount of time alone with my own thoughts as I drove along I-80. My favorite road trips are definitely ones that include time with my grandchildren and happily our most recent trip was all about the grandkids.
Grandkid palooza started out with a visit with our youngest grandchild, Eleanor. One of the advantages of being the youngest grandchild is inheriting the toys your cousins have outgrown. She was more than happy to be the recipient of a plethora of duplos! Thanks guys.
The other big news in Eleanor’s life is there is now a piano in the home. Grandpa Bud’s piano has arrived at its new home where it will be well loved. I have a strong suspicion that Eleanor and her father will spend many happy hours here.
Then it was on to Maryland to visit our grandsons and celebrate their parents’ 14th wedding anniversary. Life has been beyond busy for all the adults involved so we decided to keep it simple and order pizza for dinner. I did want a way to involve my grandsons in the celebration of their parents anniversary so I decided to bake a cake and teach them how to make a heart shape out of a square and a circle. I arrived in Maryland with my cakes ready to roll. I asked the boys what the official symbol of love is and they replied it was a heart. Since I had baked a square and a circle ,I asked them how were we going to get a heart. They were all set to do some “cake carving” but as soon as I cut the circle in half they knew what to do to make the square into a heart. They then got busy making some banners and cards to decorate our masterpiece.
I was a little surprised when the nine-year old twins started talking to me about doing a crumb coat on the cake! Kids Baking Championship has given them the lingo but they may still need to fine tune their technique. Nonetheless, their parents were delighted with the heartfelt, finished project. And yes, I too believe their parents were meant for each other.
We ended the evening with a fire in the new fire pit. The night was clear and cool with the smell of wood smoke in the air. The perfect end to a fine day.
Before we knew it we were off to the land of girls. Elliot and Becky headed out for 24 hours of R&R and Mr. Smith and I settled in with Olivia, Emily and Elizabeth. First on the agenda was taking the girls to dance class. While we spent many years hauling boys to karate, taking girls to dance class is a new adventure for Mr. Smith and me. Elizabeth may not have all the moves down pat, but she’s full of enthusiasm and cute as a button.
After lunch at Pizza Hut, it was back home for an afternoon of crafting. We made cinnamon applesauce cut outs that are making the house smell cozy and festive.
While our cutouts were in the oven, the girls moved on the creating some adorable masterpieces from a Cheerful Chipmunks Kit. They’re pretty sure their parents will be impressed with their creativity.
Tomorrow Mr.Smith and I will head back to Pennsylvania and settle back into our daily routines, all the while cognizant that Thanksgiving and Christmas are right around the corner. Wilkes Barre has already started decorating for the holidays, taking advantage of a mild day last week to put up festive wreaths. Soon the tree in the town square will be up and the holiday fairs and celebrations will be in full swing. My goal is to embrace the season and savor the moments and not get caught up in my to-do list. I will play my favorite Christmas music while I wrap gifts and bake Christmas treats. I will light candles, add some Christmas greens and sip a glass of wine. I’m 64 years old and know that “perfection” is highly overrated. What’s not overrated is holiday fun with friends and family and I plan to have some fun.
In addition to trying to cut back on my consumer consumption in general, I’ve tried to cut back on the number of magazines I subscribe to, but it feels like every other day there’s another magazine stuffed into my mailbox. Either a grandchild is selling subscriptions as a fund raiser or my sister sends me her “gift” subscription and before you know it, the issues are piling up. Sometimes I feel guilty because I feel like there’s never enough time to read them all and they end up getting neglected.
Last Wednesday afternoon found me sitting in my favorite reading spot taking some time out of my day and spending it with one of my many magazines. And that magazine was the November issue of National Geographic, WOMEN, A Century of Change. All contributing writers, photographers and artists are female. The issue is chockful of photographs and interviews women from all walks of life and highlights the female voice throughout history.
In reading the issue, I was particularly taken by a quote from Christine Amapour, chief international correspondent for CNN:
The most important challenge is still being considered second-class citizens, and the most important thing for us is to get men on our side, period. This has to be something that men help us with, it’s not a question of just swapping who’s dominant. We’re not looking for female dominance, we’re looking for equality and to level the playing field – and we can’t do that without men’s buy-in as well.
Women have always made important contributions to our society, they just haven’t always been given the credit. Hedy Lamarr, Ada Lovelace, and Rosalind Franklin are just a few of the women who made brilliant discoveries only to have them stolen by greedy men who took all the credit, published them in journals, won prizes for them and earned millions of dollars from them! I’m hoping that my grandchildren growing up today with women visible as scientists, lawyers, doctors, Supreme Court justices, athletes and in every other walk of life, will have no doubt in their minds that men and women are equals and celebrate the accomplishments of ALL people.
National Geographic was started in 1888 by 33 men of science and letters who gathered in a wood-paneled club in Washington DC and voted it into existence. There was not a single woman in the room. Since its inception the magazine has had ten editors. The current editor is Susan Goldberg. Ms. Goldberg is the first woman editor and in her November Letter from the Editor promised to “…aim to bring more women’s lives into the light – and more women’s voices into the conversation…”
I’m hoping you get an afternoon to spend some time with this amazing issue. And I’m hoping Ms. Goldberg keeps her promise.
The calendar says it’s the first Sunday in November and as Mr. Smith and I drive I-80 across Pennsylvania and Ohio, the fall foliage agrees. We’re on a mini-vacation which includes visits with all our grandchildren. Mr. Smith is doing the vast majority of driving, so I am free to admire the fading fall colors and let my mind wander. As well as thinking about some plans for the approaching holiday season, I reflected on the past couple of months and decided I wanted to provide a recap of my life in the not so fast lane!
I just finished reading The World That We Knew by Alice Hoffman. It takes place in Nazi-occupied France between 1941 and 1944. Following the lives of three young women and their struggle to survive, the main theme for me was the strength of a mother’s love. The book weaves history and myth. At first I wasn’t sure I was going to like it since myth and folklore aren’t genres I normally gravitate towards. Hoffman’s writing is so beautiful I was able to suspend my belief system and accept the premise of the story. I believe it is well worth your time to read.
Next up for me is Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry. I read it many years ago with my book group back in Indiana and now I’ll be reading is with My Three Son’s Book Group. It will be a fine read from my perch up in my nest, while watching for the first snowflakes to fall.
Recently on a dreary, rainy Sunday afternoon, Mr. Smith and I decided we needed to blow the stink off and get out of the apartment. We grabbed our umbrellas and headed out to the movie theater to see Downton Abbey. We had enjoyed the series and decided an afternoon our old friends Mr. Carson, Mrs. Hughes and all the others would be as comforting as a cup of tea and a biscuit. While it had its moments, I agree with Jeannette Catsoulis of The New York Times, “Lacking the nutritious story lines of the past, the movie is mainly empty calories.” My favorite scene is near the end and involves the Dowager Countess played by the marvelous Maggie Smith. For those who haven’t seen the movie, I’ll leave it at that.
A couple of weeks later, Mr. Smith and I were faced with another rainy, gloomy Sunday afternoon. But this time we were happy to stay in, pop some popcorn and watch On the Basis of Sex. We’re a little behind on our movie watching as this movie came out last year but I’m so glad we’re catching up! If you haven’t seen this yet, I highly recommend it. The movie is based on Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s early legal career and her fight against sex discrimination. Her nephew, Daniel Stiepleman, wrote the script. Some reviewers thought the movie didn’t do justice to Justice Ginsburg, but I thought it was fascinating to see her start her journey towards being the notorious RBG! By the way, RBG has seen the movie three times. I might do that also.
My Best Friend
I thought you might enjoy a little update on my best friend! Rest easy that we are still as close as ever. Mr. Smith and I needed to deliver a tub of building blocks to our granddaughter Eleanor on our road trip. With rain forecasted for the day we were going to leave, I wanted to get them loaded into the car the night before. With Mr. Smith at work, I again called on my friend and she came through for me. The tub was too heavy for me to lift, so I simply loaded the majority of blocks into a bag in the cart and then we were off to the elevator. I think it’s time that I take my loyal friend out for a pedicure.
If you check back on Wednesday, I’ll tell you about my favorite November 2019 issue magazine!
Are you ready for Halloween tomorrow? Do you have a big bowl of candy ready for all the trick or treaters who will be appearing at your door? Even though I’ve never been a huge fan of Halloween, the sight of all the little ghosts, witches, princesses and superheroes running up and down our street back in Indiana always made me smile. Except for the teenagers, I had a hard time with kids bigger than me who couldn’t be bothered to come up with a costume wanting a treat.
Since leaving Indiana, we have not had one trick-or-treater. Our building is locked, you have to be buzzed in, so it just doesn’t work. I must not be the only one missing the little ghosts and goblins. A neighbor down the hall has a festive wreath on their door and a cauldron of trick-or-treat candy out for grabs in a nod to the holiday.
Luckily I have grandchildren and parents who send me photos of them in costume.
I hope you have a wickedly fun Halloween. And watch out for black cats…
Every decade brings its own expressions and buzz words. In the Seventies, I was running around in miniskirts and hip-hugger jeans hoping that using expressions like Far Out and Groovy would make me sound cool and hip. Miniskirts are a thing of the past for me and my hip-hugger jeans have been replaced with ones that hopefully disguise muffin top, but I still find the English language fascinating.
Sitting in front of my sister’s fireplace on a chilly fall evening with our glasses of wine, we reminisced about some of our favorite slang from the Sixties and Seventies and then moved on to the present. If you want to get my sister Jeanne riled up, just suggest she practice “mindfulness”. For Jeanne it connotes cultish-ness and airy fairy thinking. She prefers logical, well-reasoned discourse. I will be mindful of that.
An expression that drives us both crazy is “gone missing.” We hate it and think it’s wrong. Either you’re missing or you’re not, you have not gone missing. But I must confess, Merriam Webster disagrees. Despite what Webster has to say, the jury is still out on this one for me and I’m hoping “gone missing” falls out of favor soon.
One of my trigger words is “selfcare”. A few months ago when I was dealing with purging, packing and moving and getting a bit stressed, I actually had a friend ask me “are you practicing selfcare?” At the time I found it amusing, but then began to wonder what exactly does that mean? Search selfcare on the internet and you will find more books on the subject than I could ever read, along with a monthly selfcare subscription box you can purchase “to live your best life.” Apparently selfcare runs the gambit from drinking wine and binge-watching Netflix to Michelle Obama spending her Sunday at the gym. Even Good Morning America wants you to get in on some selfcare.
Recently when I again found myself getting stressed, I decided to take the bull by the horns and give selfcare a try. My gym has a sauna and a steam shower which I had never taken advantage of and they became part of my plan. I decided I would sign up for a gentle yoga class and then indulge in all my gym had to offer. I packed up some my favorite toiletries and headed off to find my bliss.
Since I arrived a few minutes early for class, I peeked into the steam shower to check it out. With no laminated wall posters to explain how it all works, I went to the front desk to ask some questions. The two young women said, you mean the sauna? No, I mean the steam shower. They didn’t seem to know that there was one but gamely followed me back to the women’s locker room and we had a look. With their somewhat vague directions, I moved onto my yoga class.
Following my gentle yoga class, I applied a deep conditioning hair masque, plopped on a shower cap and headed into the sauna.
I did find the sauna relaxing and calming and hope to make it part of my regular routine. Then it was onto the steam room. Based on my earlier conversation with the gym employees, I thought I knew what to do. All I could think while trying to get the steam shower to work was “I’m in an episode of I Love Lucy, minus my sidekick Ethyl.” It would have made a hilarious episode of Funniest Home Videos with water spraying everywhere from hoses I couldn’t get under control. Happily, there are no videos or photos of my adventure. And luckily the gym provides plenty of towels and I was able to mop up my mess. I never did get any steam.
But I’m not giving up on my selfcare routine and I will master the steam shower. Perhaps next time I’ll dig out my mood ring and consult it first to make sure the conditions are right. Wouldn’t that be groovy?
I am on what I hope is my last solo trip to Michigan for the time being. Driving across Pennsylvania and Ohio on Monday was gorgeous. I’m not sure it was peak color, but Mother Nature certainly did her part to provide a spectacular backdrop for my drive.
After a day of hanging out with my sister Jeanne, she gamely agreed to accompanied me on my trip up to the thumb of Michigan today to meet a piano mover at my late mother-in-law, Pat’s, condo. When her husband, Bud, passed away in 2015, he had wanted our son, Adam, to have his piano. Pat had spent many delightful hours listening to Bud fill their home with their favorite music. In 2015, while trying to adjust to the loss of her husband and his companionship, she decided she was not yet ready to deal with the loss of his beloved piano too.
Now that Pat has passed, her children have the sad job of clearing out her home of over 20 years and putting it on the market. The process of going through a parent’s belongings is often a necessary part of the loss of a parent. While it seems straightforward, it can be a minefield. Each sibling comes with their own agenda. In the end, should it not be a labor of love and kindness? The last service you can offer a parent.
Mr. Smith and I believe our children may have at easier. We have downsized and culled our possessions through years of moving and our shrinking household. When we make purchases theses days, Mr. Smith is quick to remind me we’re no longer buying heirlooms. Our kids have made it pretty clear they have their own “stuff” and don’t need or want our leftovers. Except for Winged Victory. I think we may have to have a lottery for her.