We bought a new vacuum cleaner...at Wal-Mart. Nothing says "old married couple" quite like a Saturday night comparing the pros and cons of dirt suckers. In all fairness to my husband, he did take me to see a movie I wanted to see: Date Night with Steve Carrell & Tina Fey is hysterical and spot on in its portrayal of the mundane predictability of life. Following the movie and a large popcorn and drink we decided to skip dinner and go shopping instead.
I don't know about your husband, but shopping with my man is always an adventure. I think most women choose the vacuum cleaner for their home; not so with me. I am a perfectly secure woman who willing to turn this "major mechanical" decision over to her man. Again, to be fair - he uses it way more than I do, and really, I just want him to be happy. His years as a housewares buyer for a local department store make him uniquely qualified for this decision. He knows his stuff.
After much pondering and comparing we left with a super duper pet hair sucking machine, guaranteed to give us a sparkly clean house. He was happy and due to the cute dog on the box, so was I.
Sunday we decided to put this domestic marvel to the task and vacuum our 20 year old carpeting. Without going into embarassing details I will simply say - the folks at Eureka do not exaggerate their advertising. The sucking action works, the attachments work, and if the dog or cat get too close they could spend the rest of their days bald. This thing is amazing. It makes me want to clean more often - well, almost.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Dry Skin
In preparation for the ballet Audrey and I made a trip to a local nail salon for manicures and pedicures. This salon is different than any other I have ever experienced. First, it wasn't pink. What is it with pink nail salons? Now, it is no secret that most nail salons are owned and run by Vietnamese people. My niece is half Vietnamese so I asked her - "What's up with this?" She had no clue. The mystery continues.
The salon, in Plano Texas, is called Polish. Clever name with a great coral/orange decor, their own line of nail polish and a coed staff. Yes, I said coed staff. There were at least 4 men performing nail treatments to women of all ages. Alan did my nails. I think Audrey was happy I got the guy and she had a very nice yet talkative woman. Audrey is quiet around folks she doesn't know, but this didn't seem to bother the nail tech. She talked enough for both of them. Alan was a very nice man whose wife also works at Polish. I pride myself on being somewhat open minded and welcoming, but I must tell you, it felt kind of weird having a man paint my nails and massage my legs. But, in hindsight I enjoyed it. Alan is no Kevin Costner (Bull Durham reference) but he knows his way around a good mani-pedi.
During the course of our time together Alan says, "You know you have dry skin?" What I thought to myself and what I actually said were quite different. I thought, "I am a 50 something year old woman, my skin isn't the only thing that is dry." I maintained my good Southern lady composure and simply smiled and nodded my head in agreement.
I live in one of the most humid climate in the country and yet it doesn't seem there is anything I can do to stop this shriveling process. I am famous in my family for loving a good back scratch. During our 20 year marriage, I have trained the hubby to perform whenever I lean over in front of him. This silent message means, my back itches and I need you to fix it. He is the best. My back issue used to be a winter only phenomenon, now I just make sure hubby's nails are ready for year round action.
Could this be a medical condition? The imagination reels with possibilities: medical massage with essential oils to alleviate my itchy back and soothe the savage beast within? I'm wondering - is this covered under Obamacare? I'm just asking...
The salon, in Plano Texas, is called Polish. Clever name with a great coral/orange decor, their own line of nail polish and a coed staff. Yes, I said coed staff. There were at least 4 men performing nail treatments to women of all ages. Alan did my nails. I think Audrey was happy I got the guy and she had a very nice yet talkative woman. Audrey is quiet around folks she doesn't know, but this didn't seem to bother the nail tech. She talked enough for both of them. Alan was a very nice man whose wife also works at Polish. I pride myself on being somewhat open minded and welcoming, but I must tell you, it felt kind of weird having a man paint my nails and massage my legs. But, in hindsight I enjoyed it. Alan is no Kevin Costner (Bull Durham reference) but he knows his way around a good mani-pedi.
During the course of our time together Alan says, "You know you have dry skin?" What I thought to myself and what I actually said were quite different. I thought, "I am a 50 something year old woman, my skin isn't the only thing that is dry." I maintained my good Southern lady composure and simply smiled and nodded my head in agreement.
I live in one of the most humid climate in the country and yet it doesn't seem there is anything I can do to stop this shriveling process. I am famous in my family for loving a good back scratch. During our 20 year marriage, I have trained the hubby to perform whenever I lean over in front of him. This silent message means, my back itches and I need you to fix it. He is the best. My back issue used to be a winter only phenomenon, now I just make sure hubby's nails are ready for year round action.
Could this be a medical condition? The imagination reels with possibilities: medical massage with essential oils to alleviate my itchy back and soothe the savage beast within? I'm wondering - is this covered under Obamacare? I'm just asking...
Monday, April 12, 2010
All Dressed Up
I love having a niece, especially one who likes doing the same kinds of things I like to do. Audrey is 17, smart, funny - she inherited her dad's dry wit, and best of all, she likes hanging out with her aunt.
I have to say that I think I was the kid that night. We saw Sleeping Beauty at Bass Hall in Ft. Worth. The hall is an intimate environment and so beautiful. We were sitting so close we could see the expressions on the dancer's faces and could also "see them sweat." As the lights slowly came up the dancers and scenery slowly became visible through, what had looked like a curtain but was actually a translucent veil. As this veil rose, the stage came to life as the characters began telling the story of the newborn princess who, at 16, would fall victim to a curse causing her to sleep for 100 years. The kiss of a certain prince is the only thing that could awaken her.
As all this was happening, I found myself sitting with a silly grin on my face, and I think I might have even let my mouth drop open. The good news is I caught myself before the drool started to flow - count me thankful for the little things.
Reprints
I have moved these posts from my website. I want to keep this blog for personal posts and the other site will be strictly professional. There you will find my all my fiber information, crochet work, classes, and general information. I love to write and this will be my creative outlet for writing about...well, about anything that captures my fancy. Be sure to subscribe so you don't miss a thing!
Cold Winds and Other Facts of Coastal Life
Originally published on March 28, 2010
Despite all the modern technology available to me, checking the weather in my chosen destination is always an afterthought. Where's my Girl Scout training when I need it? Where is common sense? I packed short sleeves, sandals, cropped pants and one flimsy sweater. I own a yarn shop, for goodness sakes; sweaters abound in my closet. Socks? I have color coordinated socks for all possible ensembles, but did they find their way here? Nope.
I have made the best of the situation. Thanks to my romantic nature and years of watching television commercials, I have always loved the idea of sitting outside on a cold day, bundled up in a blanket, sipping a cup of coffee. So, here I am on the porch of my seaside cottage, covered with a colorful quilt, enjoying that cup of coffee, while recording this latest adventure.
Nothing profound is running through my mind this morning. I am relaxed and have let the cares of the real world slip into oblivion.
I miss Cleo. People walk their dogs on the beach and along the coast road. Cleo would love it here. As I consider the upcoming phases of my life I struggle with the issue of pets. Both Cleo and Munchkin are getting on in years. I dread the day when one of them dies leaving the other alone. They truly are our Garfield and Odie. Due to my desire to travel, I have been hesitant about getting another dog. It just takes more effort to make arrangements for a dog than for a cat. Then the issue of, will we really travel or is it just a fantasy? I fantasize a lot - which comes to no surprise to those who know me well. I live in a pretend, "I wish this were my life" world so much that I think I miss the here and now of my real life.
But, once again, I digress.
I have always had a dog and cannot imagine life without the love and entertainment they bring. With the exception of our lab, Sadie, we have had strays. My husband swears that I have a homing device understood only by helpless dogs and cats looking for a warm place to sleep and plenty of love. I choose to think that the animals I have brought home are the ones meant for us to own. Rationalization again? Probably, but that is my story and I am sticking to it.
The romance is wearing off; I can't feel my toes. The view of the bay will be quite lovely from the couch, inside the cottage.
Restoration Of The Soul
Originally published on March 27, 2010
There is a gentle breeze flowing up from the waters of Little Bay. The sounds of gulls and other sea birds mix with the mockingbirds constant chatter making even the drone of cars moving along Fulton Beach Road bearable.
I don't believe in reincarnation - God put me here at this particular time and for a particular purpose and when that is done I will return to Him - if there were such a thing, however, could I please be a bird? Birds, to me, represent ultimate freedom. They just pick up and go where they want to go; people are fascinated by them, in fact there is an entire industry devoted to watching birds. I want to be a bird. But not just any bird. You see, I am not a preditor by nature. I admire hawks, owls, and eagles but I don't want to be one. I think being a sparrow would be fun: they are cute and people like to feed them. That appeals to me. But, oh, to be a seagull....to live life on the coast; feasting from the bounty of the sea, and occasionally snatching food from unsuspecting humans. What a life that would be!
I feel the cup of my life refilling as I breathe in the ocean air.
There is a heron slowly walking through the shallow water. I can't tell what it is moving towards, but it is gracefully moving - almost floating - towards a specific destination. Maybe I should be an heron?
But I digress....
When I am in this kind of environment I become reflective. I have the time to sit and ponder the bigger issues of life. Isn't it amazingly easy to get caught up in the day to day stuff? I know I do. Day in and day out I get up and meet the obligations of the day, of my family, of my business, and at the end of all that I wonder about me. What happened to me during the day? As selfish as this sounds I don't think we are meant to totally sacrifice our spirit for the sake of daily life. My cup is empty.
I have felt God reaching out to me for some time. For reasons that are not worth discussing here I have pulled back. Maybe it is the fact that this coming week is Holy Week, for me, the most sacred week of the year; maybe it is that He let me go until I was drained and had no place else to go except back home to Him. That is the way God works. He doesn't force Himself on us. We are to come to Him. He is always there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting even longer for His children to come home.
Home...it is so good to be home.
Cold Winds and Other Facts of Coastal Life
Originally published on March 28, 2010
Despite all the modern technology available to me, checking the weather in my chosen destination is always an afterthought. Where's my Girl Scout training when I need it? Where is common sense? I packed short sleeves, sandals, cropped pants and one flimsy sweater. I own a yarn shop, for goodness sakes; sweaters abound in my closet. Socks? I have color coordinated socks for all possible ensembles, but did they find their way here? Nope.
I have made the best of the situation. Thanks to my romantic nature and years of watching television commercials, I have always loved the idea of sitting outside on a cold day, bundled up in a blanket, sipping a cup of coffee. So, here I am on the porch of my seaside cottage, covered with a colorful quilt, enjoying that cup of coffee, while recording this latest adventure.
Nothing profound is running through my mind this morning. I am relaxed and have let the cares of the real world slip into oblivion.
I miss Cleo. People walk their dogs on the beach and along the coast road. Cleo would love it here. As I consider the upcoming phases of my life I struggle with the issue of pets. Both Cleo and Munchkin are getting on in years. I dread the day when one of them dies leaving the other alone. They truly are our Garfield and Odie. Due to my desire to travel, I have been hesitant about getting another dog. It just takes more effort to make arrangements for a dog than for a cat. Then the issue of, will we really travel or is it just a fantasy? I fantasize a lot - which comes to no surprise to those who know me well. I live in a pretend, "I wish this were my life" world so much that I think I miss the here and now of my real life.
But, once again, I digress.
I have always had a dog and cannot imagine life without the love and entertainment they bring. With the exception of our lab, Sadie, we have had strays. My husband swears that I have a homing device understood only by helpless dogs and cats looking for a warm place to sleep and plenty of love. I choose to think that the animals I have brought home are the ones meant for us to own. Rationalization again? Probably, but that is my story and I am sticking to it.
The romance is wearing off; I can't feel my toes. The view of the bay will be quite lovely from the couch, inside the cottage.
Restoration Of The Soul
Originally published on March 27, 2010
There is a gentle breeze flowing up from the waters of Little Bay. The sounds of gulls and other sea birds mix with the mockingbirds constant chatter making even the drone of cars moving along Fulton Beach Road bearable.
I don't believe in reincarnation - God put me here at this particular time and for a particular purpose and when that is done I will return to Him - if there were such a thing, however, could I please be a bird? Birds, to me, represent ultimate freedom. They just pick up and go where they want to go; people are fascinated by them, in fact there is an entire industry devoted to watching birds. I want to be a bird. But not just any bird. You see, I am not a preditor by nature. I admire hawks, owls, and eagles but I don't want to be one. I think being a sparrow would be fun: they are cute and people like to feed them. That appeals to me. But, oh, to be a seagull....to live life on the coast; feasting from the bounty of the sea, and occasionally snatching food from unsuspecting humans. What a life that would be!
I feel the cup of my life refilling as I breathe in the ocean air.
There is a heron slowly walking through the shallow water. I can't tell what it is moving towards, but it is gracefully moving - almost floating - towards a specific destination. Maybe I should be an heron?
But I digress....
When I am in this kind of environment I become reflective. I have the time to sit and ponder the bigger issues of life. Isn't it amazingly easy to get caught up in the day to day stuff? I know I do. Day in and day out I get up and meet the obligations of the day, of my family, of my business, and at the end of all that I wonder about me. What happened to me during the day? As selfish as this sounds I don't think we are meant to totally sacrifice our spirit for the sake of daily life. My cup is empty.
I have felt God reaching out to me for some time. For reasons that are not worth discussing here I have pulled back. Maybe it is the fact that this coming week is Holy Week, for me, the most sacred week of the year; maybe it is that He let me go until I was drained and had no place else to go except back home to Him. That is the way God works. He doesn't force Himself on us. We are to come to Him. He is always there, waiting, and waiting, and waiting even longer for His children to come home.
Home...it is so good to be home.
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