As the Crow Flies

I am trying to paint this morning and my husband has a toothache. Not a very happy house today. I got to a stopping point so I could log in to my dental benefits website to locate a participating dentist. Sounds simple, right? Hell no! It seems I don't know my mother's maiden name and my birthplace after all. I suppose I was adopted and my dental plan has kept this information from me until now. I was instructed to call an 800 number for further instruction. So I did, much to the dismay of the CSR that got my call. Poor girl didn't start her day well. She couldn't get the system to allow me to log on either so I asked if she would just give me a few names of dentists in my area. Seems the closest dentist that shows up in the system based on my address is directly across the river from where I live, but because the nearest bridge is 20 miles away in the opposite direction it is a good forty-five minute drive. She sounded incredulous that the computer system could be wrong. I assured her I could not fly so she would have to find a provider for me within ten miles please. Nope! No providers in tiny towns. This is one of many reasons why I want to live in the city! In the meantime, hubby will have to lose at least half a day of work for his appointment. He gets DTs when he's out of contact with his emails and business phone for too long and he gets extremely grumpy. Now I remember why I meant to drop my dental coverage this year. So he could go to the dentist a block away from our home and I wouldn't have to deal with the moaning. Peace out!

Simply Happy

I am tired and going to bed soon to catch up on my sleep. I'm off work tomorrow so I will try to do some more cabinet painting. For now, I just thought I would make a list of some things that make me happy:


winning at euchre
a good book
crossword puzzles
my own bed
heated seats in my car
whiskey and diet coke
pictures of my girls and grandchild
the stereo turned up loud
fresh sheets
sweatpants
coffee
red starburst jelly beans
the smell of my husband's closet
the glow of stained glass lamps
Webcam
wax lips
practical jokes
the letter k
Mel Brooks' Young Frankenstein
Bob & Tom on the radio in the morning
stupid billboards
Sex and the City
my granddaughter's laughter
dinner on the stove when I come home late from work
Sunday mornings

That's all for now. Goodnight.

Hugs to You

My husband and I both come from large Catholic families, with five siblings each. This past weekend we met up with his family in Indianapolis to celebrate the February family birthdays, especially my mother-in-law's. I consider myself extremely lucky to be part of this big, happy family. When we all get together it is a noisy, joyful event with plenty of food and drink. While both our families are similar in many ways, his family is very physically affectionate, hugging and kissing as if they hadn't seen each other for ages. It reminds me of "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" without the Greek and without the wedding. Every gathering is celebrated as a special event. It took me a while to get used to all that touchy, feely kind of emotion but I wouldn't want it any other way now. I love that they are so open and genuine and truly nice. They are also very openly spiritual, not afraid to bow their heads and join hands in public to give thanks for all the blessings that have been bestowed upon them. While not necessarily religious, and never proselytizing, they know the importance of being grateful for the good things in their lives and praying for those situations that are beyond their control. I am grateful that my children have grown up in this open, loving family environment. No matter what they choose to believe or not believe spiritually they have this basis of goodness as their foundation.

I know many people have said that we are lucky to have a family so full of love and emotion. They are naturally drawn to this family and its aura of love. I challenge anyone reading this post to try hugging and telling your family or friends that you love them. It may be awkward at first but you may be amazed at the response you get. Look for something good in your life every day and be openly thankful for it. Focus on the positive things and try to be optimistic about the future. Too often we get so caught up in the struggle of life that we forget to open our eyes to the gifts we have been given. Hugs and kisses to everyone!

Humble Pie

Okay, you know how in my last post I wrote about how we ignore those irritating alarms? As I was reading my emails this morning I heard a car alarm go off. I didn't bother to get up and check it out. Not my problem, right? About forty-five minutes later I walked into the kitchen to get coffee and breakfast. I glanced out the kitchen window and was instantly panicked because I didn't see my car in the driveway. I rushed into the living room, bellowing at my husband, "Where is my f...in' car?" My heart was racing and my mind was reeling. Why hadn't I paid attention to the warning and gotten off my butt to take a look? My husband, always the calm in my storm, remained seated in his armchair while he suggested that I look in the carport. Okay, my car was parked there, but then "Then where is your car?" blurted out of my mouth.

Last week we had a winter storm and all the trees and shrubs had been coated with a thick layer of ice, causing their branches to bend and bow with the weight. After the melt, the branches sprang back and the trees stood tall and strong. All but the huge spruce tree that stood sentry at the entrance to our driveway. It remained a leaning tower of nature, like a giant Christmas tree askew in its stand, threatening to topple onto our cars and possibly our house. There was not much we could do but wait until the tree specialist could get by to take a look at it. We hoped we could save it. In the meantime, we began parking both our cars out of its path in case the bulging mound of earth holding it at a thirty degree angle would give up its burden and let it fall to the ground.

On Thursday we had another ice storm. Freezing rain again coated every untreated surface, the yard and driveway a virtual ice rink, the trees drooping like weary nursing home residents. When I awoke early on Friday morning I was not at all surpirsed to see the hulking mass of limbs and greenery sprawled across the lawn, the spruce tree having given up the battle to stand upright. Luckily there was no other damage to home, vehicles, or phone lines but I was saddened by the loss of this tree.

Now that the tree was down and the threat of damage to our cars abated my husband had parked his car in his usual spot in the driveway, out of sight of the kitchen window. He just rolled his eyes as he watched my panic turn to realization, then relief, and finally embarrassment. I had experienced a momentary lapse of memory after ten days of seeing both cars parked end to end just outside that window. Now he is contemplating an appropriate Christmas gag gift for our next crazy family get-together. And now I know just a bit of how it would feel to have your vehicle stolen out from under your nose while the warning alarms were ignored by all as just a common nuisance. I am humbled.

Lunar Dreams

There is a lunar eclipse going on as I type this blog entry. The full moon is an orangey, eerie glow and there are a million stars shining brightly in the night sky. I have to wonder if this event had anything to do with the very weird dream I had early this morning. From what I can remember of it, I left my office to walk, barefoot, to a cafe to pick up lunch. Those two things, walking and barefoot, are a glaring oddity for me. As I walked along the busy street that was nowhere near my office I took a short-cut through an office building of some sort. A Rottweiler tried to attack me but only bit my foot before I managed to get away. Damien comes to mind now. Then my two daughters appeared out of nowhere, rushing to tell me that their father's middle name is not what he had always thought it was, that they had researched his birth record. Somehow we never got around to discussing what it really was. Then I am asleep in my bed and my husband suddenly appears, bending over me in a spooky way trying to tell me something urgent but I couldn't make out what he was saying. Body Snatchers was in the back of my mind right then. It was a little frightening and I awoke with a start.

Now I don't know which part of the dream is the weirdest but I had an uneasy feeling all day. When I ran to the bank to get change for the office this afternoon I called my husband to check on him. I needed to hear his voice, normal and cheerful, to put me at ease again. Dreams are like bits and fragments of our memories put into a blender then poured out in a jumbled mess for us to wonder about their meaning. God only knows what these dreams meant. I just hope my husband's middle name isn't Vern!

Unalarming

I was awakened this morning at 4:30 by a distant sound that at first did not register in my mind. I had to strain to hear its constant rhythmic tone but it was definitely there. Then I realized what it was, a car or house alarm set off in the darkness, trying to do its job to alert someone, anyone. I arose and peeked out the bedroom window but all seemed quiet out front. So I dressed quickly and went down the hallway to investigate further. The sound became louder as I neared the living room, but not loud enough to be in my own driveway. I knew my cars were safe. I glanced out the living room windows but saw nothing unusual. The sound was too distant to be coming from my neighbor's house behind me but I couldn't pinpoint the source. Perhaps it was the convenience store down on the next block. I wondered if anyone else had heard it and reported it, rather doubtful since there were no other lights on in the neighborhood except mine. Before I had a chance to pick up the phone and call the police, the alarm suddenly stopped, leaving me to wonder what had set it off. We have had a rash of burglaries in our little town lately. Could there be someone lurking around? Or was the alarm triggered, most likely, by accident? I knew I wouldn't be able to go back to bed so here I sit, my husband sleeping undisturbed down the hall.

A fable from years ago came to mind about the boy who cried wolf. With so many homes and cars and anything else of value wired with alarms we have become immune to their warnings. These alarms are mostly ignored because they are set off so often in error that we have conditioned ourselves to block their assorted sounds from our consciousness. My family has been known to sleep soundly through the ear-piercing screech of our smoke alarms screaming just outside their bedroom doors. Our town summons the volunteer firemen with the weather sirens so I am sure many of the townspeople sleep right through the tornado warning siren as a result of its overuse. We are barraged with the wailing of police cars, fire trucks and ambulances, so much so that it sometimes takes a few moments to remember that we are to move out of their way. Nobody pays any attention when a store's shoplifter alarm goes off, we just assume the clerk forgot to remove or deactivate the security tag. Even in our airports we are nonchalant about the beeping at the security gates, expecting nothing more than a loose coin or some other inane object to be the cause, as is usually the case. At my office the fire alarms have been triggered so many times in the past year that we can evacuate the three-story building in seconds. We move quickly only because of the deafening shrill tone, but we have become very casual in assuming it is only a false alarm set off by some unseen, unknown cause. We leave the building to save our ears, not our lives. Alarms have become rather unalarming. I wonder what type of sound would be useful in startling people into sudden alertness should a true disaster befall us. Perhaps a blaring tune from the Lawrence Welk show?

Sisterly Bonds

Today is my oldest sister's birthday. She is the firstborn in the lineup of my brothers and sisters, twelve years my senior. Because of the age difference, I have fleeting memories of her when I was very young. I remember her sharing a room with my next oldest sister. In the room was a long narrow table that would slide up over the double bed where they could sit, propped with pillows, and do homework, play games, laugh, and share secrets. They talked about boys and parties, clothes and hairstyles, and had the occasional squabble. With their own popcorn popper and small television their room was their little sanctuary, a space that we "little kids" weren't allowed in without permission. To be invited in was special, like getting to wander into the mystical near-grownup world of teenagers. With clothes, makeup, curlers, hair dryers, and magazines scattered about I got a glimpse of what the future might hold. It all seemed very exciting to me.

I remember the parties that my older sisters were allowed to have at my grandparents' house. Teenagers, both boys and girls, would gather for an evening of supervised fun in the basement, with dancing and games, pizza and soda. My brothers, my little sister and I were allowed to join in for a few party games then we were quickly banished, leaving the teens to themselves under my grandmother's watchful eyes. I couldn't wait to grow up and be able to do the same. It seemed they got to have all the fun.

Because First Sis was quite a bit older, she did have more responsibility. I remember her helping my mother with dinner and sharing dishwashing duty with Second Sis. Some evenings she was left to babysit with all of us while my parents were out on the town. With phone in hand she would be perched on the sofa after we had been sent to bed, the television flickering in the background as she chatted. If she was in a particularly good mood, or extremely bored, she would allow us to stay up later than usual and play games with us. I can also remember her standing at the ironing board in the kitchen, pressing clothes while Second Sis folded laundry at the table.

On special occasions First Sis would get decked out in one of her party dresses and her date would appear at the door. Off she would go like Cinderella, to some magical event that I could only imagine, always returning home to my waiting parents.

When I was six years old, First Sis moved away to the big city to go to college. She would return home for visits occasionally, sometimes bringing home new friends for the weekend. I remember their laughter and chattering, their discussions about boys they were dating and about their classes. It was always a happy time when she was home, more like an appearance from a guest of honor that we didn't get to see often enough.

She graduated from college and began her career, married and started a family. The visits became less frequent but even more special. My little sister and I would sometimes go spend a weekend with her, excited to get to explore new territory and to play with our tiny nephew. She and my brother-in-law would spoil us with Baskin Robbins ice cream and treats we could buy at the grocery store behind their apartment. They took us swimming at the country club and to the zoo, to places that our small town could not offer. They moved away while my brother-in-law served his time in the military, then returned to the city. Their home became the gathering place for many family events, happy times filled with laughter, love, and fun. It is still the gathering place for our annual Christmas get-together.

My relationship with my oldest sister has evolved over the years, deepening as we age. We have moved beyond the differences in our ages and have become great friends. We see each other often and talk on the phone, secure in the knowledge that we will be there for each other when needed, to listen and to encourage, to empathise and to advise, to share the joys and the sorrows. The bonds of sisterhood are special, strong, and everlasting, a gift among women with a common history. A gift to be treasured for what it is.

I love you First Sis. Happy Birthday!