Naps.
I've never taken them on a regular basis.
But my dad took them like clockwork. Every day at noon he came home for a meal - and I mean a meal - not just a sandwich or some sort - and after that he would retire to the davenport in the front room and snooze. I certainly don't remember how long he slept - what is time to a child! But at a given signal, some internal alarm woke him and he was up and off to work for the rest of the day. I'm sure it benefited him no end. It benefited us children by the coins we dug out from deep in the cushions! But in retrospect I think - what a lovely leisurely way to enhance your day.
Now I know my retired older sibs do exactly the same thing! At night I can sometimes doze off for about fifteen minutes sitting in my recliner reading. But if the nap goes beyond that I awake feeling utterly disoriented!
Why is it that some people can slip into the arms of Morpheus easily and love the experience and for others those arms disrupt the day entirely?
Friday, January 9, 2015
Monday, January 5, 2015
Elusive
Two hugs from patrons today who hadn't seen me for a while. How many jobs offer that as a benefit?
One was a patron from South Africa - long resident of US, but still has a glorious patrician look, accent, bearing. We were talking about her daughter at UVA who is a reporter for the school newspaper and has been in the thick of the fraternity/date/rape furor. Then conversation branched to the most recent murder there and the ones that preceded it. And the 15 unsolved murders along Rt. 29.
Suddenly I remembered one beautiful girl, daughter of a college classmate, on her way to marriage and life, when she stopped by the side of Rt. 29..... forever.
One was a patron from South Africa - long resident of US, but still has a glorious patrician look, accent, bearing. We were talking about her daughter at UVA who is a reporter for the school newspaper and has been in the thick of the fraternity/date/rape furor. Then conversation branched to the most recent murder there and the ones that preceded it. And the 15 unsolved murders along Rt. 29.
Suddenly I remembered one beautiful girl, daughter of a college classmate, on her way to marriage and life, when she stopped by the side of Rt. 29..... forever.
Saturday, January 3, 2015
before his time
In Target.
Marv needed toothpicks.
I stood stock still in the baking items aisle, not finding them. Where in this huge expanse of red and white circles and shining lights would I look for toothpicks. The proverbial needle in a haystack.
Seeing a young man unloading soda at the end of the aisle I asked him.
"Toothpicks?" he smiled uncomfortably. "I would have to look that up." Whipped out a phone of some sort. Apologetically, "Is that one word or two?"
"One," I said taking pity and realizing suddenly I was asking for something outside his "ken"!
"Aw, here it is - A-16 at the front of the store" he beamed with an enormous smile of relief!
How sweet. Toothpicks. Hmmmm. 70 is getting older.
Marv needed toothpicks.
I stood stock still in the baking items aisle, not finding them. Where in this huge expanse of red and white circles and shining lights would I look for toothpicks. The proverbial needle in a haystack.
Seeing a young man unloading soda at the end of the aisle I asked him.
"Toothpicks?" he smiled uncomfortably. "I would have to look that up." Whipped out a phone of some sort. Apologetically, "Is that one word or two?"
"One," I said taking pity and realizing suddenly I was asking for something outside his "ken"!
"Aw, here it is - A-16 at the front of the store" he beamed with an enormous smile of relief!
How sweet. Toothpicks. Hmmmm. 70 is getting older.
Friday, January 2, 2015
outlook
The book I'm reading - correction, one of the books I'm reading! - has the line, "I always remember my mother as being in a good mood."
And it stopped me. I thought back to my mother and with an overwhelming wave of gratitude I realized I could say the same thing. Not that my mother didn't get angry - oh I can quite recall the time I appeared at the back door(sent by older sibs) with black oozing pitch over my white sandals after having gotten into my father's forbidden roofing supplies - my mother's mood was definitely not good!
But I'm talking a day-in, day-out let-the-merry-sunshine-in disposition. She was definitely a glass half-full person. Optimism ruled. She dwelt in the sunny side of the street as much as possible. Not that she didn't have burdens to bear, but, hey, why not be happy along the way. Pollyanna, Anne of Green Gables? Yes, she loved them. Happy endings? Yes. But beyond that, she felt that Life had dealt her a very favorable hand and she was grateful.
And so am I. For her, for her unquenchable gift of sunshine.
And it stopped me. I thought back to my mother and with an overwhelming wave of gratitude I realized I could say the same thing. Not that my mother didn't get angry - oh I can quite recall the time I appeared at the back door(sent by older sibs) with black oozing pitch over my white sandals after having gotten into my father's forbidden roofing supplies - my mother's mood was definitely not good!
But I'm talking a day-in, day-out let-the-merry-sunshine-in disposition. She was definitely a glass half-full person. Optimism ruled. She dwelt in the sunny side of the street as much as possible. Not that she didn't have burdens to bear, but, hey, why not be happy along the way. Pollyanna, Anne of Green Gables? Yes, she loved them. Happy endings? Yes. But beyond that, she felt that Life had dealt her a very favorable hand and she was grateful.
And so am I. For her, for her unquenchable gift of sunshine.
January 1
New year.
How inviting, daunting, inspiring, challenging, scary, exciting....... on and on.
It seems so limitless. White pages, no writing. A pie uncut. Play ball!
Though I never was ambitious, I think as I grow older, I view a new year with a prayer for health and harmony most of all. That doesn't seem like a lot to ask for, but it's the world.
Health is #1, because if you don't have it, every other aspect of your life is jeopardized.
And harmony is #1-A because if you don't have harmony with the world, your work, your community, your neighborhood, your household, your soul - again, everything is up for grabs. You are atilt.
So we do what we can with the health thing. Still, despite all our efforts, stuff happens.
And we do what we can about the harmony thing. Still, again, we are disquieted.
My advice: eat your broccoli and meditate - a lot!
How inviting, daunting, inspiring, challenging, scary, exciting....... on and on.
It seems so limitless. White pages, no writing. A pie uncut. Play ball!
Though I never was ambitious, I think as I grow older, I view a new year with a prayer for health and harmony most of all. That doesn't seem like a lot to ask for, but it's the world.
Health is #1, because if you don't have it, every other aspect of your life is jeopardized.
And harmony is #1-A because if you don't have harmony with the world, your work, your community, your neighborhood, your household, your soul - again, everything is up for grabs. You are atilt.
So we do what we can with the health thing. Still, despite all our efforts, stuff happens.
And we do what we can about the harmony thing. Still, again, we are disquieted.
My advice: eat your broccoli and meditate - a lot!
Monday, December 29, 2014
Not the laundromat
I discovered a book in library donations today that was entitled "Washday and others"
Washday when I was growing up, was huge. There were two parents and five children in our family and we all wore clothes.
There was a laundry basket in the closet off the bathroom where we all were supposed to place our dirty clothes to be washed.
I guess what happened next was Mother's schlepping them down two flights to the cellar. I really mean cellar, with only the thinnest of pedigrees toward basement. She did advance to an electric washer about 1/3 of the way through my childhood. Before that it was the wringer outfit where we used to flirt with danger of squashed fingers feeding items through those unforgiving rollers.
But wringer or automatic, it was work in capital letters. Basket after basket. And yes she had a dryer and no, she didn't use it unless pressed to the wall on rainy days. All other days found her donning the skimpiest of sweaters and a kerchief over her black wavy hair and off she trotted to the wash line, clothespin bag slung across her chest like a paperboy's sack. And that wash got pegged into the wind.
Work, yes, but love by the basketful.
And at night we slept on sheets of sunshine.
Washday when I was growing up, was huge. There were two parents and five children in our family and we all wore clothes.
There was a laundry basket in the closet off the bathroom where we all were supposed to place our dirty clothes to be washed.
I guess what happened next was Mother's schlepping them down two flights to the cellar. I really mean cellar, with only the thinnest of pedigrees toward basement. She did advance to an electric washer about 1/3 of the way through my childhood. Before that it was the wringer outfit where we used to flirt with danger of squashed fingers feeding items through those unforgiving rollers.
But wringer or automatic, it was work in capital letters. Basket after basket. And yes she had a dryer and no, she didn't use it unless pressed to the wall on rainy days. All other days found her donning the skimpiest of sweaters and a kerchief over her black wavy hair and off she trotted to the wash line, clothespin bag slung across her chest like a paperboy's sack. And that wash got pegged into the wind.
Work, yes, but love by the basketful.
And at night we slept on sheets of sunshine.
Wednesday, November 5, 2014
good to the last
Mugs.
We all have them spilling out of our cupboards. In my childhood we only had cups and saucers - china for special occasions, some form of modern "plastic" for everyday. Then at some point, mugs came into popular use - with all kinds of "witty" sayings on them, or holiday destinations, or anniversaries, or just mugs of all shapes, designs and colors, commemorating nothing!
I have favorites.
One Marv brought me from Pittsburgh - a very artistic one with brown, grey and purple streaks flowing through it at unexpected places, leads the pack. There is one with a blue/white country scene that has a mill which reminds me of Grandpa Weaver's; one from Harrod's in London; one from Newfoundland with a picture of the church we attended so I say hello to Nanny each time I pull it down; one from a dollar store in Ocean City bought when the boys and I did a holiday together there - precious, beloved junk; one with our son's business logo; one with Great Falls park scene, etc., etc.
Each one brings a smile. Each one brings a flick of memory or emotion.
Having the right mug, at the right time, filled with dark, rich, steaming, aromatic coffee truly is the best thing about waking up. Get a grip, inhale, and sip pleasure into the day!
We all have them spilling out of our cupboards. In my childhood we only had cups and saucers - china for special occasions, some form of modern "plastic" for everyday. Then at some point, mugs came into popular use - with all kinds of "witty" sayings on them, or holiday destinations, or anniversaries, or just mugs of all shapes, designs and colors, commemorating nothing!
I have favorites.
One Marv brought me from Pittsburgh - a very artistic one with brown, grey and purple streaks flowing through it at unexpected places, leads the pack. There is one with a blue/white country scene that has a mill which reminds me of Grandpa Weaver's; one from Harrod's in London; one from Newfoundland with a picture of the church we attended so I say hello to Nanny each time I pull it down; one from a dollar store in Ocean City bought when the boys and I did a holiday together there - precious, beloved junk; one with our son's business logo; one with Great Falls park scene, etc., etc.
Each one brings a smile. Each one brings a flick of memory or emotion.
Having the right mug, at the right time, filled with dark, rich, steaming, aromatic coffee truly is the best thing about waking up. Get a grip, inhale, and sip pleasure into the day!
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