In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Re-springing Your Step.”
I hooked up my Casita travel trailer when I got sick of the cold and snow at my vacation cottage in Michigan last April and waved goodbye to my husband. I hit the road without any thought other than heading south and getting warm.
Although I spent some time berating myself for being pig-headed, stubborn and maybe a little selfish and careless, I didn’t beat myself up for too long because travel energizes me and makes me happy. I was feeling mighty fine until I got to northern Florida and realized I was too tired to safely drive any further and I was still four hours away from my home, my children and granddaughter.
I had to camp by myself for the first time ever and it was Easter Eve. I found a camp site at the Stephen Foster Memorial State Park and prepared myself for a drizzly kind of night alone. Since I’d been flying by the seat of my pants and hadn’t stocked the camper, I dined on bagged popcorn and a bottle of Cabernet. I was feeling a little sorry for myself, but had a good night’s sleep … the Cabernet, you think?
I woke at daybreak to the sound of bells. When I stepped outside I found the drizzle had become a light mist blurring the towering pines and oaks that dwarfed me. The Spanish moss hung from the trees like an old woman’s prayer shawl and the bells became music welcoming Easter morning. I made a quick cup of coffee and sat enchanted on the wet picnic table bench.
Stephen Foster State Park, Carillon Tower
The carillon tower was playing hymns and Stephen Foster’s famous melodies. As the day brightened and the mist dissolved, the birds joined the carillon and I felt as if I was sitting in a cathedral and the choir was singing just for me. I thought my heart would break with the beauty. I felt alive and energized, healthy in body and spirit. So, I said a prayer of gratitude and thanksgiving and sent silent wishes to my loved ones for a wonderful, meaningful Easter day.
Way Down Upon the Suwannee River
A carillon is a musical instrument consisting of at least 23 cast bronze bells that are precisely tuned and arranged in chromatic progression so that music in any key can be played. Unlike other types of bells, carillon bells are fixed in a frame—the bells do not move.
Life
Bird Song and Carillon Bells on Easter Morning
I’m Supposed To Be Retired So Why Am I So Busy?
Once again I am running behind on my Blogging 101 assignments. I spent three hours catching up yesterday and can’t figure out how I’m behind already.
Got up this morning and made the coffee
Fed the cat
Went for a 2-mile walk along the Peace River
Had coffee with my husband
Reviewed schedules & to-do lists with husband
Made breakfast & cleaned the kitchen
Got my hair cut
Paid the bills
Completed a customer’s quilt on my long arm machine
Cocktail hour(s)
No pix of my visit to the doctor, preparing dinner and cleaning the kitchen (again), phone calls with quilting customers, kids & other business. But I did spend time on Blogging 101, making comments and I worked on my header photos, got my Blogging 101 badge correctly posted and other odds & ends. Oh, I also watched a couple of past episodes of “Game of Thrones”.
As Lewis Carroll said, “The hurrier I go, the behinder I get.” Geez, I know how that poor White Rabbit felt!
To You from Me
Because I have trouble expressing myself when we are face to face, I’m writing you this letter wishing that you cared enough to follow my blog. Although I know that I’m an intelligent, sensitive, intuitive woman somehow you manage to fluster me and I feel that you twist my words or over-analyze them until the meaning is lost. I’ve often thought I could express myself better in writing, but hand-written letters are no more and you are always too busy to read my blogs.
I want you to know the free-wheeling, happy, spontaneous person I am and not the daily drudge who necessarily takes care of home and family. I wish you could join me in the simple thoughts that give me pleasure … dreams and daydreams and flights of fancy … instead of the heavy, monumental, heart-wrenching, world-changing events that you constantly want to obsess over and discuss.
Did you ever really know me? Do you care to know me? My older self is reverting to my younger self back in the days when I was adventurous, excited, exciting and full of curiosity. Don’t you want to join me?
Read my blog!
Dream Girls Over 60 Unite … Read My Blog!
Blogging 101, assignment 4, Your Dream Reader
I hope my blogs will reach mid-century girls – women over the age of 60 who may be wondering about the next phase of their lives. Perhaps they’ve worked all their lives and it’s time for them to retire or maybe they’ve been stay-at-home moms and it’s time for their husbands to retire. Regardless, they are beginning a new lifestyle and it can be intimidating not only from a financial and health perspective but also considering spending 24/7 with spouses or significant others. It can be a trial, a challenge, or tremendously funny.
There are other issues such as wrinkles (face & thigh, butt & neck), weight gain, hormones, hair loss, fashion challenges, health & medical issues for both spouses, and any number of other exciting things to look forward to. There’s a myriad of things to be unhappy or worry about but, as we all know, with age comes wisdom and, more importantly, freedom!
Freedom to go commando, to not wear makeup, to pull your hair back into a ponytail or not color it for months. Freedom to jump in your car, stop at an ATM & withdraw as much cash as you can and hit the road until the money runs out. Freedom to let someone else worry about paying the bills (especially since you’ve withdrawn all the money), solve the kids’ and grandkids’ problems, cook the meals, do the grocery shopping, do the laundry. Freedom to take the time to get in shape, eat right, be as glamorous or as “natural” as you want.
So, I would like to reach my 60+ age friends out there and help them see the bright side, the adventures, the challenges, the humor that awaits them as they travel through the highways & byways of the rest of their lives.
Girls, remember, worrying will make you ugly! We’ve waited all our lives to have fun, so let’s do it!
Either way, it’s all good!
Wander, Wandered, Wandering!
I spent my working life wandering:
- My gaze would wander to the window and I’d daydream
- My thoughts would wander to fun things I’d rather be doing
- My fingers would wander during meetings and I’d begin doodling
- My feet would wander around the building to visit co-workers and “network”
- My spirit would wander in search of adventure in exotic venues
Now that I’m retired, I can and do wander purposefully. I travel solo, or with my husband, or with my sister wherever an itch and my bank account will allow. Every day is an adventure … even if it’s only setting my self-cleaning oven and watching the flash fire it caused while calming my hysterical husband who couldn’t open the locked oven door to put out the fire. (FYI – the fire got the oven really clean really fast, just a quick swipe with a damp cloth to clean up the ashes.)
Obviously my mind also wanders when I’m given an assignment to explain the name and tagline of my blog. I think it speaks for itself.
My oven wasn’t quite this bad only because the oven door was locked
The Stockings Were Hung By the Chimney With Care
3 stockings were already delivered in Atlanta
Actually the stockings were too heavy and plump to be hung so they sat comfortably on the hearth waiting for the kids to arrive on Christmas Eve.
Stockings have been a cherished family tradition since our four kids were small. We started our own business and money was tight but I loved to watch my little ones get excited over brightly wrapped gifts. So, I gathered lots of fun, small items and wrapped each one individually. Toothpaste, toothbrushes, combs and brushes, deodorant, breath mints, gum, socks, underwear, cards, kazoos, harmonicas, hand sanitizer, tissue packets, lollipops, whoopee cushions (kids always laugh at anything fart related), chocolates, Pez dispensers, pens, water balloons, bubbles, Post-It notes … anything small, age-appropriate and inanimate that could be wrapped and shoved into their stockings. Every stocking was topped with a Christmas ornament with their name and the year written on it for posterity.
Granddaughter Rebekah’s stocking
Grandson Max’s stocking
This year I put together 11 stockings. That’s about 100 small objects individually wrapped. That’s a lot of work with no little elves volunteering to help. When I once suggested that we stop with the stockings already, the kids who were young adults by then said they would rather have their Christmas stockings than gifts under the tree. Imagine.
As the children became adults and left home to start their own traditions they took all their accumulated ornaments and their hand-made Christmas stockings. We just received a photo from our daughter Laura who lives across the country taken while putting up our new grandson Louis’ first tree. It was a photo of her ornament from 1983 and she thanked us for starting the tradition that she intends to continue. Now I just buy inexpensive throwaway stockings each year and keep stuffing.
Over the past 25+ years, Christmas stockings became a family joke with everyone wondering what craziness I would find to wrap up in Christmas paper. I think my favorite was when we inherited some old full pelt mink collars and I wrapped one up as a stocking stuffer for one of the boys. When he tore the paper off and the fuzzy ears and beady little eyes peeked out, all four kids (and their dad) shrieked and then screamed with laughter. And that’s how Christmas memories are made!
Can you believe women used to wear these as collars?
Merry Christmas and happy, healthy and prosperous new year.
Does It Look Like He Has a Christmas Tree Growing Out His Butt?
Does it look like a Christmas tree growing out his butt?
My daughter Heidi decided her family should cut down their own perfect Christmas tree. It would be a fun adventure and would show 4-year old Max where Christmas trees come from. So the day after Thanksgiving we drove from Atlanta to Sleepy Hollow Farm in Powder Springs, GA to find the ideal tree.
It was a beautiful late autumn day, great weather to ramble around the farm searching for the perfect tree. We were given a saw when we arrived at the farm and told we could cut down any tree with a price tag. Max got a little spooked because from his (short) perspective it was a huge forest. I was documenting the entire enterprise for posterity and to share with family and friends on Facebook. While the tree was being wrapped and tied to the car I posted my pix to FB.
Little boy lost in the woods?
The perfect tree!
Paul Bunyan and his assistant
We worked up an appetite so the kids took me to their favorite Mexican restaurant in Atlanta. Little Max calls it the “Cheese Taco Man” since he only eats cheese quesadillas but calls them tacos. The sign out front of the “Bone Garden Cantina” explains Max’s name for the restaurant.
The Bone Garden Cantina (Cheese Taco Man)
Above the bar
My son-in-law, Chris, is a professional photographer so after ordering my first ever empanada for me, he pulled out his cell phone to check his messages. He looked at me with a grin and said, “Nice composition, Jodi, real nice. It looks like I just farted a Christmas tree!” He showed my FB post with the pix around the table. Heidi and Kurt coughed up their tortilla chips and even Max laughed because what 4-year old isn’t going to think “farting a Christmas tree” is funny? So everyone had a laugh at my expense and we had a wonderful meal at a great restaurant with terrific artwork. A real Day of the Dead ambiance.
Authentic Mexican food & Day of the Dead décor
Later we congratulated ourselves on providing another positive learning experience for Max. Now he knows where Christmas trees come from. Out of his dad’s butt!
I still think it’s a really nice picture. Do you think it looks like Chris farted a Christmas tree?
The Year I Crucified Our Christmas Tree
It was the best of times … Christmastime with our four kids, my husband, the dog and cat and our own business.
It was the worst of times… Christmastime with our four kids, my husband, the dog & cat and our own business.
Our daughter was selling Christmas trees as a fund-raiser for her school so we bought a wildly expensive variety of tree I’ve never seen before – long, skinny needles and floppy limbs. I was a little peeved because we couldn’t really afford the expensive tree and per normal, the kids were excited to decorate the tree until the lights were strung and the hot chocolate was gone. Then I found myself alone hanging the ornaments on individual branches and cherishing the memories they evoked. It took me hours to display each gem in the most aesthetically pleasing way, then I had to clear up the boxes, tissue paper, dirty mugs and the rest of the mess and store everything away so I could reverse the process in about three weeks.
We ran our own business which means we pretty much worked 24/7. So I was tired and grumpy when I got up the next morning and found about half the ornaments on the ground with the cat looking sheepish. This time it wasn’t really her fault but she has a guilty conscience and looks sheepish a lot. I realized that the ornaments were sliding off the long needles so with no helpful elves around (again), I wired each ornament securely to its limb then went shopping for gifts and groceries, I shipped packages, did laundry, cleaned the bathrooms – you know the drill if you’re a working mom, and I got home just in time to prepare dinner.
Attempting to de-stress with a glass of wine after experiencing all the Christmas throngs and good cheer at the mall, I was working at the stove when there was a thump, a crash of breaking glass, barking, meowing & nervous laughter from the living room. You guessed it, the tree was on the ground amid broken ornaments and the kids were sidling toward the door where the dog and cat were vying with each other and the kids to exit the room.
I was calm. Mayhap it was the wine. Perchance I was on my second glass of wine.
I found the largest nail in my husband’s toolbox and his hammer. I called the biggest kid in to hold the tree straight while I shoved it into the corner, grabbed the two largest branches in the back and nailed them to the wall. I picked up the unbroken ornaments and forced them into my children’s hands and told them to do whatever they wanted with them. The youngest had the temerity to say, “Daddy’s not going to like that”.
I fed the kids, finished my wine and went to bed.
When I got up to make coffee the next morning, the tree was laying on the floor; the large nail having split the branches. Fortunately, the tree was located near the sliding glass doors to the back yard. I opened the doors, removed the star from the top of the tree so I could get a good grip and dragged that sorry-ass tree into the back yard. I made my coffee, added a nice big splash of Kahlua and listened to soothing Christmas music until my family arose.
After my second cup of coffee I was smiling serenely when the kids looked outside and saw their Christmas tree glistening in the morning sun. They didn’t say a word.
“Why is there a spike in the wall?” asked my husband.
Merry Christmas.
Grandma Bernstein’s Chicken Noodle Soup
I wish I’d known my Grandma Bernstein, I would have loved her. She was from Russia and raised four children alone on Miami Beach by opening and running Jewish restaurants and delis on South Beach in the 1930s and 1940s. Three generations of Bernstein women lived and worked together providing some of the most popular meals served in Miami Beach during those decades. My grandma, her daughter Eva, my mother Rose and Eva’s daughter Marilyn. Rose met and fell in love with my Russian father and the whole group pitched in to teach him the restaurant business as well as how to speak and write in English. He became a successful and popular restauranteur opening several restaurants of his own, Al’s Sandwich Shop, Al Nemets’ Restaurant and Grill in Miami Beach and Chicago.
OK – back to the chicken soup. When I got sick as a kid we always had Grandma’s legendary chicken noodle soup or Jewish penicillin. It never failed! When I had my own family, who had time to make home-made soup when you could open a can of Campbells or Mrs. Grass’ chicken soup? Then when my mother was dying and I had pneumonia, my brother made a pot of Grandma’s soup and I learned how incredibly easy it is to make this wonderful, golden, magic elixir.
Find a nice plump, fatty chicken. You’ll also need an onion, a few carrots, a few stalks of celery and egg noodles and most important, a bunch of fresh dill. You can actually use any type of pasta but I love broad egg noodles. USE ONLY FRESH INGREDIENTS! Adjust the vegetables, if you like more carrots then celery or more onion than celery, go ahead. No one cares. But don’t take any shortcuts or the magic won’t work.
Get out your soup pot and lay the whole rinsed chicken in the bottom and add water to about an inch above the chicken. Let the bird simmer for about an hour, depending on the size of the chicken. You don’t want to overcook it or the meat will be dry. It is done when you poke it with a fork and the juice runs clear. It will also be almost falling off the bone. While the chicken cooks, clean and cut up your carrots and celery. I French slice nice big chunks and just quarter the onion. Rinse the dill, get rid of the stems and chop the rest.
When the chicken is done remove it from the broth and let it cool in a bowl or platter. De-bone it when it cools. You may want to add some bouillion cubes to the broth if it doesn’t taste “chickeny” enough. Now add the carrots, celery, onion and dill to the broth and simmer until the veggies are done — firm, not mushy. Add salt and pepper to taste. Don’t skimp on the salt. The noodles can be added to the broth during the last 10 minutes of cooking or you can cook them separately and add them to the individual bowls as you serve. Some (crazy) people don’t like noodles or they’re gluten-free or carbohydrate intolerant. Did I get all the buzz words in there? Ladle out a bowl of broth, vegetables & noodles and put a nice piece of chicken on top.
Don’t worry about fat, calories or carbohydrates, just enjoy and feel well!
p.s. The magic ingredients are the chicken fat and the dill!
p.p.s. Wait til I tell you about Grandma’s Russian Cabbage Soup, it’s to die for!
Adventures
Wander Woman 
Welcome to My Neighborhood
Blogging University 101, Assignment 8: Get out your calling cards, and leave comments on at least four blogs that you’ve never commented on before.
I read a charming post by Ace who seems to be gentleman describing how to treat a lady. How’s that for unusual in this modern world? The daily writing and photography of Marilyn Armstrong (Serendipity – Searching for Intelligent Life on Earth) is always delightful and thought provoking. Today’s blog was about struggling with the realities of retirement. Stuff My Dog Taught Me (and stuff I’m figuring out on my own), is always good for a smile with a humorous twist on real life situations. Then there’s The Creek, a slightly off kilter, quirky look at life while living on a creek with a couple of dogs. OK, OK – one more. For quilters, there’s Tim Latimer’s blog just in case you want to feel totally inadequate, I mean totally motivated.
There appears to be something for everyone and WordPress Reader makes it so easy to stay in touch. I always enjoy meeting new people … make a comment so we can get to know each other, neighbor.
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