Ode to Jeffrey

6/30/2012

These thoughts came to me suddenly today and while they would make a great anniversary card in September for Jeff, I thought I'd say it today.

Ode to Jeffrey

You stood at my door

On May 5th, 1974

Your sister and my dad thought

You could be my Mr. Right

That one night has turned into years

and though we've had troubles

we've never looked back or regretted a thing

Thirty-eight years, over half of our life

You've been my husband, I've been your wife

If I could have only one prayer answered in my life

It would be for 38 more years with the

man who stood at my door on May 5th, 1974

Our skin now sags, our eyes are less bright

And now both of us have to get up through out the night

But still we love and still we care

And all of this from a blind date

With the man who stood at my door

on May 5th, 1974 

Love always P

Generator Jenny

6/30/2012

Generator Jenny

Several years ago after a particularly hard winter and trying to explain to a small toddler why Elmo wasn't playing on the tv, why our meals were all cold and we slept together with our clothes on, we decided we had had enough.  Our utility company had lost its power (literally) with us for the last time.

Time and money was spent (more money than time) but eventually "Jenny" a full house generator was installed at the house.  I believe our installing a full house generator the size of a small car amused our friends and perhaps even our neighbors.  We installed Jenny because we were tired of sitting in the dark, in the cold or the heat unable to heat up any food or use the computer (horrors)!  We also had a justified medical reason for never losing power - our CPAP machines.   While Jeff's sleep apnea is now very mild thankfully and he could go without his machine if need be, I am unable to sleep without the CPAP and when the power goes out well - I don't get much sleep (at least not the healthy kind). The generator was installed and we felt like we had some power over the power (so to speak). Jenny would only have to work ONE time to get all of our thousands of dollars back at least in blissful satisfaction.  And we knew that one day (or night) Jenny's time would come.

Last night was that night.  At bedtime a very large, violent storm blew into the neighborhood.  One of those heavy winds that blows everything around or over kind of storms.  The power flickered once, twice and then black.  We waited the 30 second delay in the dark and then Jenny roared to life.  Power was on and life was good.  It was bedtime so we would have been going to bed when the power went off - but we were able to have a/c and I was able to sleep.  Jeff and I high fived each other - Jenny worked!  Jenny has a test run every Friday for 30 minutes or so and yet she hadn't really been put to the test until now.

I'm proud to say that Jenny performed flawlessly.  She "ran" the house for two hours and then she developed some kind of problem and shut down.   Luckily for us the power company restored our power at about the same time as Jenny was beginning to malfunction.  Are we disappointed?  Not for a second.  When we bought Jenny she was a lightly used generator and last night was our first time really putting her to the test.  She started up like she was supposed to and provided us with power, at least for a time.  So yes, we will have to call Rich (our generator man) when we return from vacation and ask him to give Jenny the once over to see what's wrong and get her up and running again.  But for now high fives to Jenny!

P

Vacation Time

6/29/2012

Vacation Time

In exactly 8 hours, give or take an hour or two, my two week vacation will start.  I feel somewhat like a kid on the last day of school, except I don't have a stinky old locker to clean out before I can go.  "Technically" our vacation will begin on Monday when we are wheels up in Frederick on our way to Illinois and then Minnesota.  But you can't fault a girl for throwing in a few extra days for good measure.

We will be away from home for one week during which time we hope that any problems at home, or more likely, the family business remain small and few.  For seven days, Jeff and I would like to be a carefree couple out on holiday as the English call it.  

Jeff is only taking a week off from work - but I am taking an extra week because I know it will that long to slog through the pile-up of paperwork, read through the mountain of mail (this is not much of an exaggeration), iron out the prior week's problems and hiccups and sort through the various boxes and packages that will be waiting for us upon our return.  But, for seven days, we're going to try reallllllllllly hard to shove all that stuff to the dark recesses of our heads and enjoy ourselves.  So here's to vacations and hope that the one(s) you take this year will be fabulous and restful. 

Don't worry I'm taking a laptop (which I don't much care for) and will do my best to be a regular and diligent blogger.  So please keep reading because I'm still writing. 

P

My Internal Argument

6/28/2012

This is something I wrote for myself in an an attempt to try and figure out what was holding me back from clearly a beautiful trip to the Bahamas. I'm happy to say that in the end I went, the trip was fabulous and the resort and beach - breathtaking!

I sit at the breakfast table alone with my cold coffee staring at the brochure that Jeff had ever so casually left for me to see.  The brochure was touting a trip to the Bahamas with deluxe accommodations at a resort on a pink sand beach.  The pictures of the beach and the resort property is appealing, of that there is no doubt.  

When I said I was alone at the table, that wasn’t entirely true.  I was sitting with my near constant companions – fear and anxiety.  They’d been with me for years and though I had been in therapy for years (and I do mean that literally) there they sat.   They were burdens I carried with me day after day, heavy on my shoulders and burrowed deep in my mind.

It’s not that I didn’t want to go to a fancy resort and pretend that I was Bo Derek as I lounged near the ocean.  It was the plane ride - in a small plane with only one little whirly-girly blade on the front and if it stops you’re screwed, more or less.  

Over the years I had become more willing and able to fly over land, probably because it was just that – terra firma.  If there was a problem, and there never had been, at least you were still going to have dry feet.  Flying over the ocean was a different deal all together.  The trip, in a small plane, takes 90 minutes over the deep blue sea and that was the problem.  A huge problem for me.

To be sure we’d be wearing life vests, have a raft on board and be flying pretty much together with other pilots anxious to be rid of winter, even if just for a few days.  There was just something about being over the ocean, which is way over my head.  I don’t swim and have a fear of water if it’s above my knees.  

While I contemplated my decision to go/not go, I grilled Jeff on proper disaster etiquette.  When and how did you get the raft out of the plane?  As a non-swimmer I wanted to be clear about how I was going to even be able to get in the raft.  Did he expect me to jump?  That hardly seemed likely.  The Nervous Nell in me wanted answers.

I brooded over my decision for a entire day.  The brochure remained in place on the table.  I knew three things for certain: (1) I could delay my decision until there would be no room at “the inn” for us.  If that happened then I would be absolved, in my mind, of denying Jeff this wonderful trip; (2) declining, no that’s not the right word, refusing to go altogether based on any number of made up excuses; but, fear and anxiety not being among them; or (3) pull up my big girl panties, and decide that I was going to go come hell or high water (funny).

I went on the web – whatever did we do before it was invented?  I know we didn’t just drop everything and run to the library and consult with an encyclopedia.  Remember those?  I checked out the resort – pricey but beautiful, read the reviews and knew without a doubt that I/we deserved these few days in paradise.  The cost of the room was way out of my Jeff's comfort zone, not to mention what it was going to cost us in fuel for the plane, rental of life vests and rafts, etc. You get the idea.

In the morning I still hadn’t been able to come up with a decision.  As I was leaving for work, I penned a note on the brochure, “I’m thinking.”  On my way into the office that day I argued with myself.  I knew as did everyone around me, that we deserved this trip.  Everybody needs something to look forward to and unfortunately we usually only looked forward to work and more work (we work full time and run two family businesses on the side – can you say drama).   I argued about the “what if’s”.  What was the worst, the absolute worst, thing that could happen to us?  You already know the answer – we don’t come back.  And, if that were to happen I sure hoped it was on the return trip!  

Once at the office, I polled my co-workers.  Would you go? Even in a small plane over the ocean? The answer was a resounding yes.  Apparently, my co-workers know me almost as well as I know myself.  I showed them the website and several of them said they would be happy to go in my place and would take their chances over the ocean.

I talked to a close friend who doesn’t even like flying commercially and he told me to go.  He, as well as Jeff and I, have both suffered losses in our family that have changed our lives and who we are forever.  He understood my fears and said “go for it.  Everybody needs some happiness now and then.”

I was convinced.  With the picture of the ocean and the pink sand beach on my computer screen, I called Jeff.  All I said was, “Book it Dan-o before I change my mind.”  He took me at my word and made our reservation that day.  As a condition for going, and he would have done it anyway, I asked that the plane be checked from top to bottom – or whirly gig to tail more appropriately.

I have nearly two months before it’s “wheels up” but I’m already on Ebay, which is my all time favorite shopping site, looking for some kind of lacey cover-up which will allow me to embrace my inner Bo Derek as I walk along the beach.  

For now, I have kicked fear and anxiety to the curb, at least as far as this trip is concerned.  Will they return?  Likely, but I’m determined to go anyway.  I’m going to drink something that comes with an umbrella on the side and for just a few days soak my body and soul in the Bahamas sun.

Some Oldies but Goodies

6/28/2012

Some Oldies but Goodies

When I don’t have anything else to think (worry) about, I then have to find things to think (worry) about.  Yesterday, my brain was sitting on idle and I sat down figuratively pen and paper and made a list of things that I remember that either aren’t around anymore or are no longer the “norm” - whatever the heck that is anymore.  Maybe you can add a few oldies of your own to the list:

Oleo

Harassment in the workplace

45, 33 and 78 rpm

American Bandstand and Dick Clark

No air conditioning in the car

Crank down windows in the car

Wind-Wings - perfect place for Dad to blow out his cigarette smoke

Listening to Gunsmoke on the radio

Hanging your clothes out to dry

1960’s beehive hairdos

Rolodexes - the desk kind

Typewriters (they are still around but not everybody knows what to do with them)

Shorthand (a dying art)

Lawrence Welk

See the USA in your Chevrolet Show with Dinah Shore

The Loretta Young Show

Queen for a Day

Dark Shadows

Laugh In

Father Knows Best

Lassie

Lindy pens (my favorites: gold and turquoise)

Double feature movies
Bobby Sox
Petticoats - now called slips

Letters – now referred to as snail mail, which nobody uses anymore

Going steady and wrapping his ring in angora yarn so it fit

Pen pals

Kingston Trio

Peter, Paul & Mary

Radioactive red Fiesta Ware

Liquid saccharin -ick

Metrecal - double ick

Real princess phones installed by the phone man!

Full service gas stations

Carbon paper

Baby oil mixed with iodine for a real quick and dark tan

Black and white television

Stockings or nylons instead of pantyhose

Handbags instead of purses

Icebox instead of refrigerator

Enjoy the memories

P

Me and Mr. Jumpy

6/27/2012

Me and Mr. Jumpy (or things I feared as a child)!

My mother was a tough old broad – at least in my opinion.  Mom didn't waste time holding our hands or making cluck-cluck noises of reassurance to us kids as we grew up.  When I, probably 10 or 11 years old found (or heard) a cricket in my bedroom, it made perfectly good sense to me to holler to Mom to come and get rid of him  (i.e., kill him).

I was terrified of them and even to this day don’t see any reason for them to be around - or at least around in my world.  I remember Mom coming to my room and my explaining the need to get rid of the cricket (which seemed to me like a Mom job).   I don’t know the words she used; but, I can still recall the action.  I was to stay in my room until I had either (a) killed the cricket or (b) come to terms with him living in my bedroom.  That said she closed my bedroom door and it was just me and Mr. Jumpy. 

Besides that awful noise they make I hate bugs that jump.  That just seems unnatural and it makes it pretty darn hard to predict in which direction a bug will jump.  So there we were me and Mr. Jumpy locked in some kind of one-sided mental strategy game (at least I hoped it was one-sided).  I couldn't even imagine getting close enough to it to hit it with a shoe – what if he jumped on me?  I know that if that happened I would die on the spot.

I sat on my bed making sure that Mr. Jumpy didn't move - it is always better to know where your enemy is.  And then I spied my roller skates, the old metal ones you put on your shoes and adjusted with a key.  The key, of course, was always worn around your neck, it was the fashion of things at the time.

I hopped off the bed, grabbed up one of my skates and lined Mr. Jump up in my field of sight, and sent my skate flying across the floor.  At this point, I'll let you decide how it turned out for Mr. Jumpy and my skate!

Have a great Wednesday - hump day, we're on the downhill slide.

Next week Jeff and I will be loading up the plane on Monday morning and hope to have wheels up by 8:00 am and we'll be headed to Minnesota for a week.  So with any luck and modern technology working properly, I'll be in touch with you via laptop. 

P

Lead Car Responsibility!

6/26/2012

Lead Car Responsibility!

 

You are the leader of the “pack”, or in other terms the first car going to turn left on an arrow.  The Indian only shoots an arrow once and a while and it zings by pretty fast – and there you sit watching the green arrow get greener!  Why?  I rarely curse privately in my car – but if the lead car is dragging his gas pedal along with other parts of his anatomy that he might be sitting on, then I am apt to yell out “fudgesicle”  to myself.  The lead car knows with 100% certainty that he’s going to get through the light so he’s in no particular hurry to help you out.  In my humble opinion, I believe the lead car has a responsibility to be watching for the light to change and to be ready to go as soon as he is assured that he won’t be t-boned by a red light runner.  I do after all want drivers to be safe – and fast off the line.

Now me personally, who is the butt of all driving jokes in my family, and for the life of me I don’t know why.  Oh yeah I remember I drive too slow, I never change lanes stuff like that.  But there is one area that my family cannot fault me for – I am and always have been fast off the light.   I may only be doing the speed limit once I make my turn; but to give credit where credit is due, I do give all the cars behind me a fighting chance to make it through the light.

I will share one story with you.  When Jeff and I bought our first Volvo Turbo Station Wagon she was lightening fast off the line.  Now appearances can be deceiving because "Liz" (our name for the car), looked like a typical Mom wagon.  Kenny, probably twelve or so and I would pull up to a stop light and see the driver in the next car next looking us over.  We always figured that they were snarking about the 'ol lady and her wagon.  Kenny and I never exchanged anything more than looks; but, we both knew that when that light turned green, I was going to put my foot to the floor and Liz would turn loose all of the turbo-charged horses under the hood.  Liz and I won every time and it was very satisfying but an action that I, of course, being older and wiser now can't condone.  But oh was it fun at the time.  In fact at work (and this was a long time ago, they used to call me Parnelli Patti). Hard to believe I know but all true.

Remind to tell you a story some time about Jeff and I racing to get home first, bet you can guess who won!

Happy driving and may all your left turns be behind me!

P