An Email Smile

Just got this email from hubby in Korea:

"I must say one thing I am going to have to go on a diet this next two weeks and do exercise as the trips are just one big eating orgy. There are big lunches and dinners, you remember our Taiwan experience where we hoped we could take a break from eating for three days or so because of the constant large meals. The Koreans always seem to have about four surges of food in addition to all the little side dishes they bring out. The food has really been good but they always want me to try new things so I overeat. My clothes still fit OK but I know I am heavier. "

The Punch List

I have been living (at least on weekends) in my new house for almost 18 months now. As with any new house, there is always what the builder calls a punch list that is reviewed when the house is 99% done. The punch list is a list of items that the builder or the owner identify as corrections to mistakes or things that need to be finished but were overlooked. They usually get done prior to the final payment or within a month after the final payment.

Since my husband and I are relatively easy going and have made our final payments, there are still a few things that need to be done. I am not worried because the builder's subcontractor is free-lancing by finishing our basement. He has said he will get to these items and he is a reasonably nice guy, so I trust him. I also find that my karma gets really crappy if I turn into one of those bitchy homeowners that feel it is necessary to get in the contractors face every time I see him, when I see that he IS doing work. As a side comment we are actually having the basement finished based on a handshake, an estimate that is not in writing and by writing checks every now and then when asked. I do not recommend that homeowners do this in real life, but it seems to be working for us.

ANYWAY, one of the items on my punch list is that foyer light above. The larger light in the foreground was hung quite high with the builder's brother telling me that was necessary to allow a decorative view from outside the front door when it was on at night. There was a spot light over that window that fell on that small landing below---this landing is found in many new homes and is a totally useless feature added by architects for you to place totally useless decorative crap that you could not reach to dust without endangering yourself.

This foyer light in the foreground was found after much searching in several light stores and catalogs for something large enough in size and with a style that fit with my "pseudo-Tuscan" approach. The light was found hanging in a corner of one of the larger light fixture stores covered in dust. Naturally the builder hung it with all the dust still intact! When I explained to the builder that the foyer light was so damn high even my husband could not reach it to clean it or replace bulbs with his two story ladder and that it needed to be lowered, this led to me purchasing a similar light (from a totally different company) that hung directly in front of the window where the ceiling spot was. (WE RARELY USE THIS SECOND LIGHT!)

Now I continue to see my foyer light dusty and with one burned-out bulb hanging at the same height as if in some vacant house. I wait patiently for them to lower it at least two feet. They keep saying they will get to it. I will keep those blogreaders who are on the edge of their seat about this challenge posted.

Just Rewards!

Thursday Thoughts #10--Lies - Black and White

1. Do you tell your husband that you threw out the year-old toaster with the broken plastic knobs and bought a brand new one that cost three times as much, or do you just hope he doesn't notice when he gets back from his travels? (In my self defense the old/new toaster buttons could only be turned with a fish hook remover thingy which no longer opens regardless of my extensive efforts and use of four letter words.)
   
   
2. Do you tell your daughter that her foolish husband was throwing Xman up into the air and then came so close to missing catching him that the kid almost landed head first on the sidewalk and one came away crying and one came away almost crying? (Heart attack city my friends.)
   
   
3. Should you feel guilty for blowing off the last two hours after your doctor's appointment when you should have been driving back to work instead of home? (Who am I kidding?)
   
   
4. Is it a lie when you tell your doctor that you drink a glass of wine in the evening when it is usually closer to 2 or 3 glasses?
   
   
5. Are you being foolish when you fail to tell your son-in-law that you have second degree burns on the palm of your hand from that DAMN frying pan while you continue to pretend you can get dinner on the table, juggle the baby and sooth Xman like clockwork? (Second degree burns and now waiting for blisters.)
   
   
6. Are you really unprofessional in leaving the room to rush to a "meeting" as you ignore a 50-year-old "colleague" who still giggles incessantly and says awesome every 15 minutes.
   
   
7. When someone tells you that you look way too young to retire...is it dishonest to pretend you are surprised at their surprise?
   
   
8. I don't have anymore...guess I am not as dishonest as I thought.
   
   

Little House Life Story #13

Living on a remote island in the middle of the vast Pacific Ocean requires depending on your resourcefulness almost all the time. The stores in Micronesia were very similar to the old-fashioned one-stop store in "Little House on the Prairie." You could buy almost everything in one of these stores, but there wasn't much of anything at any one time.

There were a few canned goods, a few types of hardware, a little fresh produce. One had to be very resourceful to identify what was useful. You could never predict what you might find in the store. But, interestingly enough, due to the proximity to Asia and India there were bolts and bolts of summer fabric: fabric of all types, colors and weaves. Fabric did not spoil or damage easily on the long boat ride to Guam and the trans-shipment to Palau. There was always a selection of colorful bolts to peruse. If you could sew, you could fill your days with making things.

In one of my recent blogs I mentioned how I made clothes for my baby girl out of fabric scraps. Well I pretty much had to sew everything I wanted out of these tropical patterns. The photo above shows a cover that I made for my bamboo furniture in our little apartment when the original fabric wore out. I am sure that I found this quite the interior design solution.

If you keep reading, you will notice that the fabrics in the photo below are the same as the one on my baby girls outfit. This is a photo of the bedroom. Yes, the bedroom! I must have loved the pattern. I am sure that I thought it was very stylish and a wonderful example of creative interior decorating.

I must have had absolutely no taste after years of living on a remote tropical island. Geeese!!

Three Day Weekend

Hubby is in Korea for a month or so and I am alone (except for noisy and nice contractors finishing the basement) at the house on the weekends. It is VERY odd being able to do anything I want, eat anything I want, watch anything I want for days...a VERY odd feeling.

During this wonderful respite I decided that it was time for another "Lifestory" blog. I was going through old slides and albums for ideas and then came across this photo of my husband and some islanders during one of his many island hopping jaunts when we lived in Micronesia.

I had to scan and post this because the picture tells a story or two if you look closely---no, my hubby is not gay---he is the most unselfconscious, unpretentious person I know and is totally relaxed with his body. Instead, look at the two island boys and imagine what they are thinking and saying. I am sure they had never seen reef shoes. Then look at how the other islander is dressed and also his body language. A thousand words in this photo, right?

The Ongoing Education

Once again Tabor is getting an education in life. I guess it means we are still alive if we can still learn.

I have recently (re) learned the following:

1) When you receive a call from one of those little people that starts with "I go poo poo in potty." you still react with the same manic enthusiasm you did when you had little tykes of your own. Obsession with pee pee and poo poo goes on and on from generation to generation.

2) Potty training means a child may wake up in the middle of the night several times screaming that he needs to go to the potty.

3) Watching a child bounce off the walls due to too much Valentine's Day chocolate and candy is almost as frightening as a Stephen King movie scene.

4) The reason they are called the Terrible Twos is because the child can be really, really, really terrible---behavior that one expects in an insane asylum comes to mind.

5) It is definitely time for mom to feed the toothless one when the toothless one starts grabbing food off of my plate and then commences screaming when I pull the plate away and lick her hands that are full of my mashed sweet potatoes.

6) At day care little girls are little girls---hugging and hanging on to X-man and little boys are little boys--- running around the room casting glances as they try to impress the visiting grandma.

7) Being around small children brings to mind the same question I ask about Presidential candidates...Why would anyone in their right mind volunteer for this!

8) The answer to #7 is that you are in love with the idea, the process and the result.

Happiness is Overrated

The February 11 issue of Newsweek has an article titled "Happiness: Enough Already." The gist of the article is that melancholia "generates 'a turbulence of heart that results in an active questioning of the status quo, a perpetual longing to create new ways of being and seeing." And the authors conclude that this is a good thing. In other words if you are perpetually happy you no longer long for anything and become constipated, boring, and coasting through life. Some of the article is based on a new book coming out - "Rethinking Happiness" by a father and son team --the Dieners.

Since I have not read the book, I cannot comment on it. But I do tend to agree with the Newsweek article on the popularity in our society of medicating anyone who finds themselves depressed. The clinical definition of depression is too easy to fit most of us at many times in our lives. Medicating this feeling away seems to me a false approach to growth and understanding. Yes, there are people who become suicidal and therefore need medical intervention. But too many of us in our wealthy and self-stimulated society are taking pills to avoid normal pain, to pretend that feeling depressed is not natural.

Pain/depression is a lesson. It tells us something is wrong. It tells us we must step back and move in a new direction. It reminds us that we cannot make it alone in this world and we should turn to those who love us for help. It tells us we are alive and when we begin that time of happiness (and it will come) -- great or small -- we will only fully appreciate it if we can contrast it with the sadness. We can also be more emphathetic and understanding of others' sadness when we take time to go through our own periods of the blues.

The cliche that great art results from great sadness seems to be true. Therefore, will our society not produce any great works of art because we are counting out pills from a bottle with each hiccup in our life's path?

I also think that if our society accepted mild depression or sadness as a temporary transition rather than a permanent setback, we would have fewer suicides. If we accepted that folks are going to be gloomy for a little longer than we like, than we would be more tolerant of their struggles. We need a little patience in this solve-it-in-24-hours-so-we-can-get-on-with-our-lives. We need to hold their hands and see if they can turn it around. We need to remind them of the good times or share our good times. We need to be patient. It is a fine line, but if we follow our instincts we will know the difference.

As Lucy would say, that will be 5 cents please.

Contrasts

This special doll belonged to me at one time long ago. I could not leave the room without her crawling speedily behind me almost causing an accident if I stepped back too quickly. Her little green and navy sundress is one of many that I made from scraps of materials I had. Almost all of her clothes were homemade because we lived on an island that had no clothing stores. Most of the native children ran around naked anyway...so she was the most overdressed. Thirty-some years later, HER little girl, on the other hand, has literally three or four very large plastic containers filled with hand-me-downs in pristine condition in all sizes that will last for years to come.

Little Bag of Tricks

Anna at Self-Winding found this link which is such a good fit following my earlier post.

Don't Think Too Far Ahead

I am probably not the most upbeat person to be around. I do love life and I do find each day an adventure, but I am one of those people who is always thinking too far ahead.

For example, when my daughter was a baby, each time I nursed her, I would think sadly about the day I would have to start weaning her. Then when she became a toddler I would get sad thinking about the day that she would head off to school and how I would miss our hours together. Then, as you can probably guess, the years in junior high for both of my children were filled with my thoughts about the empty nest when they would head out to college and their bedrooms would be filled with dusty prom trinkets and forgotten basketball photos.

I really do try hard to live in the moment. I certainly think that is the healthiest way to get the richness out of each day. Having written that though, it seems I am always hardening myself to what I am going to miss when something good comes to an end. I can remember an really odd moment during (probably) desert storm in the 1980s when I saw a handsome and healthy group of sailors at DisneyWorld on leave. They were having a wonderful time. I was sitting at a table with the family eating a hotdog and suddenly tears filled my eyes and my hotdog became a lump of clay in my throat because I thought about what they would soon be facing. I was embarrassed needless to say, and my husband tried to make light of it so that the kids wouldn't misunderstand.

I really try to be an upbeat person...I am sure that is what my family would say...

International Gifts

We have a weekend visitor from Korea. He is in charge of a marine laboratory in Korea and while visiting my husband also will be visiting relatives living nearby. As Asians always do, he brought a lovely gift and presented it with gracious charm. The box itself was first wrapped in a silver-gray scarf with writing that meant something about power (?). When I accepted the gift I was surprised at how heavy it was. It is about 2 feet by 1.5 feet in size. He carried this all the way on his trip! When I accepted the gift I am sure it weighed 15 pounds!! Inside is a very beautiful assortment of Korean sweets. Far more than my husband and I could ever eat. We will share at dinner tonight and I will also share some with my grandson who may enjoy them. Now we have to think of something nice for my husband to take on his trip back next month...

The Sweet Sadness

I am sitting alone in my room watching the first feathery light flakes of a new snow drift onto the gray shingles of the roof outside my window. In the background I can hear the sweet sad horn of Chris Botti playing on the stereo. I had been to a concert of his recently and remembered that I had not listened to his wonderful music in a long while and pulled out the three CDs I own.

Today is one of those days of strange dichotomies. I am lonely and yet savoring it. I am sad for no reason but know that this sadness can only be appreciated because my cup overflows with happiness. I feel the pace of my breath and heart slowing to a rhythmic peace in sync with this silver gray day. This sadness is bittersweet. This melancholy is the one side of the whole that keeps me from flying off into space.

I am savoring 'Empress of China" tea in a cup I had made with my daughter at a pottery place a number of years ago. It is an ugly green and purple and thus fits completely with the strange day.

I know that part of this strange feeling is the nearness of my retirement. I have told the important people at work and therefore solidified this leap. In the spring, I will be retired. No matter what angle I look at this, it is another milestone in my life. It is another major corner turned. It is like a gift that I have been given, but it is like a large beautiful bowl in which I must find beautiful things to place. There is a real danger of filling the bowl with bits of flotsam and jetsam.

This milestone also means that I have definitely moved away from those parts of living that meant so much. There is no innocence, there is no pureness, life is what it is. When the bowl is full there is no more pleasure in finding new things to place there. At the very end, there are only old memories after all. All the fresh new memories will be made by those that follow us.

It is sad, but it is also wonderfully sweet this little bit of life we have been given.

The Lost and the Losers

I think I am not going gently into that good night as I age. I was made aware of the following yesterday and today which showed I am getting old and no longer fit:

Mr. Jobs in introducing his new tools said (among other things):
…Today he had a wide range of observations on the industry, including the Amazon Kindle book reader, which he said would go nowhere largely because Americans have stopped reading.

“It doesn’t matter how good or bad the product is, the fact is that people don’t read anymore,” he said. “Forty percent of the people in the U.S. read one book or less last year. The whole conception is flawed at the top because people don’t read anymore.”

Last night as I watched television with my two college educated young relatives, I suggested watching the presidential debates and was told that they wanted to watch the two-hour episode of “The Biggest Loser” which we did. Yes, this is a pun in so many ways.

The cherry on the top is that we will be implementing a new security policy in our office where we will need to change our network password every 60 days and it must be 12 (yes 12) characters in length and use upper case, lower case, numbers and symbols. Does anyone think this will reduce security on our PCs other than me for the OBVIOUS reasons?

The Tear

It came so fast.
It was so unpredicted
In eyes that had been dry for what seemed forever.
It flowed across the hollow
And held and glistened.
All the others in the room held their breath,
Concerned and maybe even afraid.
It was as if this sudden precipice
Meant illumination or darkness,
And yet it may have determined
A presidency.

Dancing?

It has been wonderful to get outside with the little ones. Angel wiggles and tries to fly away in my arms as the warm wind caresses her face. It is the middle of January and we three dance across the crunchy leaves...I can't help but think in the very back of my mind that we are dancing at the earth's funeral.

Winter Tastebud Sharpening

Soon in the middle of the rest of this span of short gray days, the colorful catalogs will start arriving. They will be shocking in their brilliance and seduce us once again into purchasing joy for the spring season. I am writing about the seed and plant catalogs, of course. My husband will look forward to the heirloom plants and think about planting his 'half acre' of tomatoes.

Because of my Italian heritage, tomatoes have played a very important role in my dietary preferences. As you may know, if you also love tomatoes, during this time of year (actually during all but the late summer and early fall months) the stores are filled with red orbs that are labeled as tomatoes, but taste like cardboard and have the texture of mushy apples surrounded by a hard gelatenous layer. I have discovered an acceptable substitute in the grape (and sometimes) the cherry tomatoes. These grape tomatoes (the size and shape of grapes, duh) are sweeter and while not excellent, have a touch of the essence of tomato.

I got a Nigella Lawson cookbook for Christmas from my daughter, (Yes she is that lovely and voluptuous--stop drooling guys-- and a wonderful chef as well.) and we decided to check out the tomato recipes and found this recipe below. I have to paraphrase since I left the book at my daughter house.


Preheat oven to 450 degrees. (232.2222222 degree Celsius)
Slice tomatoes (as many as you want) (large tomatoes need more chopping)
Set in large baking pan or dish and drizzle olive oil over all
Chop an herb (basil, oregano or the recipe called for thyme)
Sprinkle herb, kosher salt and a tiny bit of sugar over all. (you can also add pepper to taste)
Pop in the oven and turn the oven off
Leave in for about 12 hours.
Enjoy in so many ways--spread on toast, in salad or eat them like popcorn as I do.



The flavor or the tomato is very concentrated yet they are still a little juicy and less chewy unlike the dried tomato. The recipe allows use of regular tomatoes, but I think that cherry or grape are the best even though slicing them in half takes a little time. If you crave that tomato taste in the winter, as I do, I think you will like this. Let me know what you think if you try it.

PS--While these can be stored in the refrigerator...they must reach room temperature or be gently heated for best flavor.

2008

The Day Before Christmas

My birthday was the 21st and I went out to dinner with my family and that is where I think I caught this awful head cold. I spent the better part of the dinner wiping Xman's runny nose. In spite of this, he was on his best behavior and the dinner went very nicely and my fish dish was excellent. We ordered a chocolate waffle for dessert and almost couldn't finish it.

Last night the geese held one of their all night parties...due to the warm weather being brought up from the South I am guessing. They laughed and chatted and sang (honking with Christmas joy) until about 3:00. I got up to see what had silenced them and the moon was at its brightest and most lovely, casting strong shadows throughout the forest. It was almost as if daylight had begun!

I drifted back to sleep and in the early morning I set up one of my birthday gifts (a tripod) and went out on the deck and caught this photo of the late revelers heading out in an ever so dignified swim to the main part of the river just as the sun was peeking over the branches of the naked trees.

I am off now to finish the sticky buns for Christmas breakfast. We will have only my son this day as daughter is off to the in-laws for the holidays. My husband and I will be most mellow, but I am afraid that son will be bored to tears without his niece and nephew as buffers in the conversation. It will probably be like a Ben Stiller movie and I do hate those.

Hope everyone is having a wonderful holiday and that your expectations are so small that they all come true.

Dangerous Love

There are those women (girls) that fall head-long into love as if it was an endless pillow of cotton candy. They jump in arms wide and mouth open. Even as they see they are sinking to a dangerous point of no return, they do not regret the loss of control and they continue that sweet roll. Not this chickie-poo. While it was intense when I fell in love in my youth, I still had my feet touching the ground and my head was reasonably clear. I sometimes wish I had been the free spirit, free falling type of woman. The lady with the laugh in her eyes and the never-look-back attitude. But, I think that while my passion was not as abandoned neither was my pain as endless.

I have always been able to do two things at one time and while I was studying that sparkle in his eyes and the softness of his lips, I also kept track of exactly where I was standing in this dance. Girls who remain in control of themselves are not as sexy. They also make clear early in the relationship that they have expectations and we all know that men do not like expectations. Most men remain little boys all of their lives. There are a few grown-ups in the XY line, but they are as hard to live with as us females. I do not regret that I was careful in my approach to life, but I do sometimes wish I could have led that other life in another dimension without all its painful consequences...those which would be manifesting themselves in twinging ways as I reach the age I am now.

Yet once again as I age, I have learned something about myself. Everyone has their price. I have fallen head-long in love with the two little humans above. I have jumped in arms wide and mouth open. None of my feelings are being reserved for logical thinking. I know that the pain will be devastating when I am thrown aside for their other loves. The rejection will require numbing medicine and lots of staring into space. But this love is an overpowering, potent,inescapable passion. And I am going along for the ride for as long as it lasts.