'Tis the Season

Since I started doing my holiday shopping, I have been feeling quite nostalgic. At least I prefer to think of it as nostalgia rather than some sort of regression. It occurred to me that the most fun presents to buy are the ones for kids--not that I enjoy Walmart or Toys R Us; but there is just something about toys that brings out the child in each of us (I think). As I was driving home from work one day, mentally going over the names on my shopping list, I had a "light-bulb" decorating idea. I was so eager to get started, I headed immediately to the antique store to begin my own shopping. I rearranged my family room furniture and began putting together a collection from my own Christmas memories--the pink stove, refrigerator and sink set we played with for hours (now I've discovered cooking & washing dishes is rarely fun); a large container of Lincoln logs my brother sometimes let us girls play with, too; the pink GE radio with the round station dial that Kathy & I both fought to control; a metal baby highchair much like one we once owned; and the "wrong" typewriter that Santa brought the year I requested a secretary typewriter so I could be like a grownup. Every night before I go upstairs, I turn off all the lights except in my display, I smile as I sit back in my chair and just enjoy for a moment the joy of being a kid at Christmas. It's true what they say--Christmas is for kids & we are all kids at heart. (If I could figure out how to post a picture on this blog, I would share a picture of my childhood corner)

The Value of Neighbors

For the past several months, I have struggled somewhat with the need to nest vs. the need to grow. Most people who know me, know that I tend not to stay in any one place too long. When I moved back to South Dakota, I bought a house with the idea of staying in my government job, close to family until retirement. (Which in spite of my proclaimed 39 years, will come sooner rather than later) Planning, of course, to retire (at 39) to an island in the Carribean where I would spend my days in the sun either drinking beer and reading good books or braiding hair and painting faces of passing tourists to supplement my meager retirement income. I still have not completely given up that plan; but I have been rethinking the whole "nesting" idea.

Feeling at home is actually more complicated than simply living in a structure that you own and can paint any color you fancy. I have been reflecting on the many places I have lived over the years and those places that feel like home. Which brings me to Stella--my eccentric 78 year next door neighbor in God-awful Altus, Oklahoma. Even though I lived in a cultural desert, in a disgusting old house inhabited not only by me but by possums, raccoons and stray cats; I smile when I think about Stella--she was much more than a neighbor. She shared holiday meals and often invited herself to dinner; she watched over my house, my dog and me like an old mother hen; she was my champion with other neighbors and the landlord; she was my 'nightlight'. This past week I was cleaning out the coat closet when I took down the stack of magazines Stella regularly brought for me to read when she finished with them. (Yes, I moved them from Oklahoma and have not looked at them once) It occurred to me that, at least for me, neighbors like Stella are far more valuable than real estate or homeownership.

I moved the magazines to the garage--still can't part with them. Still hoping to feel at home in my neighborhood.

City Driving

My son has told me for at least two years it was time to take my car keys away. He might just be right. I flew to Houston early Sunday for a Monday morning meeting. I chose Sunday as it should be a slower traffic day. Ever prepared, I had printed out the directions from the airport to my hotel 35 miles north and demanded a car with a compass. It was 97 degrees and I insisted on a compass more than air conditioning. The Enterprise guy told me three times how to leave the airport and get to the interstate, not the same highway I had mapquested. Several times I had to remind myself to breathe as I hit the freeway--posted at 65 with everyone going a minimum of 80. After approximately 20 minutes, I checked the trusty compass--since I seemed to be getting closer to Houston rather than farther away. Clearly, I was headed the wrong direction--I pulled into a gas station and asked for directions to Conroe, TX. Yep, had to go back to the beginning. I was so nervous as I pulled out of the station and started down the street. Just then the red light turned green and three lanes of traffic were all headed into my line of traffic. I quickly put the car in reverse and tried to quickly backup to the station. There may have been tears, I was again holding my breath. When I finally discovered the correct direction, I put my car into gear and tried again. After another 15 minutes of managing the overzealous, lead-footed Sunday drivers speeding past me, I began to notice a strange sound coming from the engine of my rental car. Knowing, I can't possibly pull over I begin checking my gauges to determine if there might be a problem. "Lightbulb" moment--I have been in low gear since my near death experience at the gas station. Thank goodness nothing blew up as I shift up and headed north at 70 mph. Of course, finding my hotel was another fiasco--thank goodness the desk clerk who answered my phone call was able to stay on the line and direct me to the parking lot. She just might have a career with "Onstar". Probably gonna have to invest in a GPS if I ever leave Rapid City.

Learning to listen

Today I decided to head out on my own little roadtrip--or "daycation" by my niece Tracy's definition. I packed a lunch and loaded two lawn chairs, beach towels, reading materials and a change of clothes into my car and headed to the lake. I intended to lay in the sun for a bit then get busy writing. I staked out my picnic table and planted my belongings before heading to the beach with my other lawn chair, a beer, a book, and a beach towel. I moved to the farthest end of the beach, away from the splashing children and sunbathing teens. With my lawn chair at the edge of the water and my book in hand, I took my seat. Lesson learned--you cannot escape splashing children at a public beach; especially when they discover the geese congretating next to your lawn chair. I certainly hope my sister won't mind that the book she loaned me is a bit waterlogged!

More importantly, I learned to listen. Today the sounds of children splashing & laughing, parents playing and teaching, even geese honking were in perfect tune. I closed my eyes and listened to the harmony of life around me: "look a fish"; "mom, help me make a sandcastle"; "can I play with you"; "don't go out too far"...... At one point I opened my eyes to see a frail, silver-haired couple holding hands venturing out into the water. As the children played around them, I smiled, closed my eyes and shared that moment.

The beginning

When I spent the 4th of July weekend with my niece, Tracy, we explored the realm of blogging. She helped me set up a blog; which I have not been able to find since returning home to my own computer. It is apparently floating somewhere out there in cyberspace. Lesson for today: Write it down! My own senior moments are occurring regularly in spite of my mere "39" years of age. If you are familiar with my Life Lessons from Oklahoma, you know I manage to educate myself on a regular basis. I haven't figured out how to upload (or is it download) photos; but will as I learn that task, I will share some pictures, too. Anyway, I hope this will be fun and that you might laugh with me on occasion!