People Watching

My father was, in his youth and even now in his old age, an avid people watcher.  I spent many happy hours sitting in the car with my father while my mother was doing the family grocery shopping watching pedestrians walking past the car as we waited for Mom.  Dad invented a game of pointing out different facial characteristics and types of clothing and then we children would guess the person's occupation or who they were, or perhaps where they were going.  The game rules changed as often as the weather.  Dad was quite good at the game and made it such fun.  From the window of that old station wagon we saw many interesting people.  The gentleman with the mustache, hat and dark glasses became a cunning foreign spy, the little girl with red curls could have only been the vivacious Orphan Annie, the meticulously dressed woman in the stilettos was a voluptuous Hollywood starlet, and the old man walking his dog was actually a detective following a suspected bank robber.  I realize now this game Dad invented was to overcome his and our boredom and keep his six children quiet while waiting for my mother to return.

I'm grown and still enjoy playing Dad's game.  The game saves me from the tedium of another day.  I am not as clever as Dad was but perhaps that is because I don't have six rowdy children with me who need to be entertained.  I do believe I will engage my imagination a little more often then I won't have the "tedium of another day" only new adventures.  I really do love adventures.

Alice in Wonderland

Yesterday was a difficult day for me emotionally.  My children are grown with children of their own and their own grown-up problems.  My father once told me his children grew up and left home but he never stopped worrying about them.  He thought he worried more about them because they were no longer right there with him where he could over see the activities in their lives.  I find I am the same.  I can no longer rescue them.  My children must face their demons on their own terms but that doesn't mean that I do not feel their pain.  And so it was yesterday.  Both of my children are facing some very difficult times and all I can do is advise and worry.  I worry that I have given poor advice or that I should have stayed out of their business or how will all this effect them down the road.

To help lift some of this burden off my weak puny mind, I often rent a funny movie.  Today I decided against comical and try something totally different.  I rented the new version of Alice In Wonderland starring Johnny Depp.  I've considered renting it many times but always put it back on the shelf believing it to be much too bazaar.  I truly love the old Disney cartoon version of the classic story by Lewis Carroll.  The movie was quite different from the book.  The movie was more like a part two of Lewis Carroll's book.  This was the story ten years after Alice initially visited Wonderland. 

I found myself relating to Alice and I wonder if that is not quite common.  The introduction of Alice is of a young woman who is constantly being told what to do, how to behave and what to say.  Isn't that the way we all are treated in our youth?  As if we don't have a brain in our head.  She is called a "stupid girl" repeatedly.  When her mother tells her proper young ladies wear corsets she replies "What if it was agreed that it was proper to wear a codfish on your head, would you wear it?"  When I was a teenager my mother insisted I wear a girdle every day to school, something I hated.  When I asked why I was told proper young ladies do not wiggle when they walk and even skinny girls wiggle when they walk.  Not one to disobey my parents, I wore the wretched thing.

One memorable scene is when Alice falls down the rabbit hole and ends up in a circular room surrounded by locked doors.  Isn't that just the way life is?  We stumble, fall, twist and turn this way and that only to end up against a locked door.  There is no easy way out of this life.  We keep trying different things until we find something that works.  And so it was with Alice until she found a way to get the key that fit the door.  Poor Alice had to shrink herself down to something she wasn't before she could proceed to the next room.  Don't we often have to do the same to fit in, so that we are socially acceptable or just to get the job done.  It is no wonder the dormouse and caterpillar don't recognize her.  After all she's been through she barely recognizes herself.  We do the same.  Everyone of us come to a point in our lives when we look in the mirror and wonder who that strange person is.  What happened to the brave young person with all the incredible dreams?  Life happened.  We were distracted by life and no longer recognize ourselves.

The story is not over for Alice or for you and me.  What seems to be impossible is only possible if you believe it to be.  As the Hatter puts it "The only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible."  Alice replies "Sometimes I believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast."  Hatter wisely says "That is an excellent practice."  Count your impossible things, Louise.
        1) I can transform my old beat up house into a magic cottage.
        2) I can write a book
        3) I am an artist.
        4) I can dance.
        5) I can love again.
        6) I can conquer my technophobia.
What six impossible things have you thought of today?

First Bank Ladies Reunion

A woman I worked with over two decades ago is coming into town for her granddaughter's wedding.  I admired this lady when we worked at the bank back in 1980.  She seemed so confident and knew so many people.  Everyone liked Donna.  I really wanted to be like her.  Little did I know, I was and still am like her.  Two women who worked at a poor paying job to support their families and struggling with our day to day challenges.

In honour of her homecoming I have organized a luncheon for the ladies who worked at First Granite City National Bank all those years ago.  It has been quite a job trying to find these ladies.  I was unable to simply sit down with a telephone book or address book and start calling or sending invitations.  I had lost contact with most of the ladies years ago.  I am ashamed to say I couldn't even remember all their names.  You see, when I started working at the bank May 19th 1980 I was the 100th employee.  It was really a big deal for that little home town bank.  Banks do not pay their tellers and clerks well so there is a lot of employee turn over.  One hundred employees and constant turn over made it difficult to remember everyone.  I started my search on face book and was surprised to find a half dozen ladies there.  I invited them and asked them to invite anyone they had worked with who they continue to stay in contact.  I then called a few ladies I still kept in contact with and asked them to do the same.  I was able to find addresses for other ladies so I sent formal invitations. 

I must really like a good challenge because I have had fun searching for long lost friends.  Also I have learned something from this endeavor; people who work with one another for years have bonded.  None of these women work for the bank any longer and most haven't for years, yet they still feel a close connection to one another.  Some of the older ladies have physical handicaps that keep them home bound.  I simply mentioned this in passing and ladies are volunteering to pick them up.  I have more volunteers than I have ladies who need assistance.  This has been an awesome experience.  At the luncheon I plan to get every one's home addresses, e-mail addresses and phone numbers.  I will then save this information for future use.  I would like to keep in contact with all these dear women and perhaps start a phone tree so that when ever any of the ladies are sick or need assistance, the word will be put out there for all who want to assist.  Yes, I know I am a dreamer but good things come from dreams.  In a time when there is so much bad and people are yelling for Jesus to come take the Christians cause it is time for the world to end, I find it refreshing to see so many good wonderful people and to be able to call them friends.

To old friends

Thirty years ago when I started my career in banking I met an intelligent quiet man with an endearing personality.  He was the comptroller of the small bank where I worked.  He wasn't pompous and arrogant as I expected from a person holding such a prestigious title. Thinking back I realize most of the officers of this bank were genuinely good people, not at all like the bank officers I had worked with at my previous employment.  There was a family atmosphere among all the employees of the bank.  But I digress.  The gentleman I was speaking of (Earl) enjoyed enjoyed getting together Friday after a pay day at a local restaurant and lounge with friends and bank employees to de-stress.  it was always a fun evening listening to music, dancing, drinking and telling stories on one another.  Lots of laughs.  When the band quit at 11 P.M. the party adjourned and everyone went home.  I always had a feeling my friend went home reluctantly.  I found out years later his wife had some mental issues and his home life was difficult but to the end he was faithful to her.

Earl retired almost two decades ago and in that time I had only seen him once or twice.  One day after reminiscing with a friend about the good old days when banks were operated much like a family business rather than the big conglomerates we have today, I decided to find out where he was and what he was doing with himself.  A couple of inquiries later I had an e-mail address and was once again in contact with him.

I have heard that with true friends they may be separated for years but when they meet again it is as if there never was a separation.  That is the way it felt when we met for lunch a few weeks later.  After a warm hug we immediately started conversation without any uneasiness as if we had just seen each other a week ago.  We talked congenially for quite some time making the waiter nervous wondering if we were going to order lunch or just drink his free water.  We did finally order and two hours later I felt guilty about occupying the restaurants valuable space without ordering more food so we said our good byes. 

Before we parted Earl asked me to join him Friday evening with friends for drinks and live music like we did all those many years ago.  Not one to turn down a good time, I accepted even though I wasn't sure who his friends were.  As I suspected his friends were three very nice elderly men.  Since I am now considered a senior citizen I hesitate describing these gentlemen as elderly.   As my father would put it, some young whipper snapper may think someone in their sixties.  No, I am talking late seventies and eighties.  These old goats were not frail old guys.  They were having the time of their old lives waltzing me around the floor.  Two of the gentlemen were there with their wives so they did not ask me to dance.  There was one man closer to my age who I danced with several times.  I won't call him a gentleman.  While on the dance floor he started asking me to see him.  He suggested we chat on the internet.  I asked if he was on facebook.  He was but wanted to chat in a chat room or something less public.  When I told my friend he apologized for the guy.  Turns out he is married.  Sweet!  Good thing I wasn't interested in him, huh?

Bring on the Tomorrows

This week I celebrated my sixty first birthday.  The years have passed so swiftly and I find myself looking back at my life in disappointment.  If I should live to my mid nineties I am now two thirds of the way through my life.  What do I have to show for it?  I am a child of the sixties.  We were going to change the world and they did but I didn't.  During my first year of college young American women were demonstrating against the inequality of the work place between men and women by burning their bras.  College campuses all over the United States were all but closed down by the demonstrators.  At SIUE, where I attended a small handful of students missed the demonstrations because they were attending classes.  Being a good little girl and afraid of what my father would say if I missed even one class, I dutifully attended every boring class, missing out on being a participant of that historical event.  What was wrong with me?  I listened and believed all the negative things my parents had to say about these courageous young people and did not open my mind to the possibilities that my parents and the politicians of the day could possibly be wrong.

After 23 years of marriage to a controlling man, much like my parents, I vowed to open my mind to all possibilities.  This new mindset has opened my eyes to a much bigger and more fascinating world.  Still I have not done and seen all that I would like to. Yet as I look around me I see that I have done and seen more than many others.  Finances keeps me from doing all that I would like to do.  It has been a bummer being unemployed yet it has given been free time that I did not have while working so I cannot complain.  I have tomorrow and if I can stay healthy for the next thirty years I may have 10,950 tomorrows give or take a few hundred.  Bring on the tomorrows.  This girl's got new adventures to pursue.

My first container garden

I finally sat down and read the instructions for planting a garden in my book You Can Do It.  Yes, I know I said I was going to do that a couple of weeks ago.  Since my retirement I just don't get into a big hurry to do anything.  My daughter-in-law loaned me a couple of really good books by Rick Riordan.  I've been anxiously waiting for the next book in the series to be published.  I digress.  After reading the gardening chapter I decided it might have been a good idea to have jumped into action a little sooner.  The author suggests start planting in February and March.  Oops!  Better late than never is my philosophy.  I always do things my way anyway.  What's a couple of months in the whole scheme of things?

Turns out to get my Dig It Merit Badge I don't have to plant a complicated garden.  The author suggests planting a practical container garden.  Not a lot of digging and weeding.  Now this is something I think I can handle.  Tomorrow I plan to go shopping for containers, potting soil, fertilizer and seeds.  To earn the badge I must be able to harvest my crop for a meal.  This little city girl is going to plant leaf lettuce, carrots, and basil from seed and also a tomato plant.  On my trip with my father to Branson last week I purchased some black cherry balsamic oil.  That should go very well on my garden salad.  I may get ambitious and plant a few flowers in a container too.  Then besides my home grown meal I'll have a lovely bouquet of fresh cut flowers to brighten up the event.

Yeeha, I'm on my way to earning my first Big Girl Merit Badge.  I am going to have to make a sash or banner to display my merit badges on as I earn them.  This could be fun.  OK, stop your laughing.  I know I am just a big kid.  Just don't tell me it is work.  I'll pretend I am playing and I can enjoy most anything.  Life is much too short and I'm going to enjoy what ever time I have in this crazy old world.

Renaissance Faire 2011

Wentzville, MO has been the host for the grand St. Louis Renaissance Faire for the past 13 years.  The faire takes its visitors back to France in the 16th century to the quaint village of Petit Lyon.  Everyone both young and old who attend are encouraged to join along with the festivities for the spring time faire. The villagers of this mock village have set up stands along the pathways to sell their wares. All vendors were dressed in costumes from that period. There were approximately 80 vendors selling a wide variety of merchandise similar to what would have been found during that era.  We roamed the village shops and watched as the artisans demonstrated period skills.  There was something for every man, woman and child.  I watched as men examined knives and swords and tried on leather boots and hats while the women sampled the perfumes and incenses and tried on the graceful flowing peasant dresses. The King and Queen of France along with their court and guards honored the village by attending the faire.  And yes of course, if we are going to have the royal court we also must have a jousting tournament.

Last year I took my two oldest grandchildren to the faire.  This year I felt all four grandchildren were old enough to join in the fun.  The faire is held outside at Rotary Park.  The weather was a typical wet cold May day.  St. Louis weather can be so unpredictable.  Every day the week before the day of our planned attendance I checked the weather forecast.  One day the forecast called for cloudy with a chance of showers while the next sunny with temps in the mid 70s.  Unfortunately the day of the faire the sun chose not to show her cheerful face and we were blessed with cold drizzly rain the whole time we were there.  Days like that have a way of bringing adults' spirits down but not that of a child.  All four children had a fabulous day running through the village from vendor to vendor and joining in all the frivolities.  The King's quests was by far the children's favorite activity of the day.  Each child was given a list of places to visit.  Once they had completed their quest they were granted special audience with the King and Queen.  If it had been determined that the child was worthy the young male child would be knighted by the King and the female child would be appointed the awesome award of being a princess.  My two youngest granddaughters already thought they were princesses.  They now have certificates from the Queen herself verifying it.  I am quite positive they will be impossible to live with for the next couple of months.

Although we were cold and wet we had a delightful trip back to Renaissance France.  For those interested, the faire will continue weekends only for the next two weeks. 

In search of fairies

My eldest grandchild, Abby holds my heart in her chubby little hands.  Les has been dead for almost two years and Abby still believes fairies and pixies live in the woods located behind Papa Les' house.  She has been asking me to take her back to Papa Les' house to hunt for fairies for several weeks.  The weather has been much too wet for the pursuit of the magical little beings.

Abby is wanting to relive a magical day in early June 2009 when I took all four of my precious grandchildren for an adventurous romp through the woods while their Papa lay dying in the house just a few yards away.  All four children had their own ideas of what they would find in the wild unexplored territory behind Papa's house.  Wesley and Alysa were Peter Pan fans so they were in search of pixies.  One pixie in particular, Tinkerbell, of course.  Abby was quite certain leprechauns lived there and little two year old Anna clung to me in fear of the tigers she swore she saw watching us behind every tree.  We never actually saw any fairies but Abby was convinced that the butterfly that flew around us was really a fairy in disguise checking us out.  Later five year old Wesley told his father this had been the most exciting adventure he had ever had.

Children have a belief in magic so strong that it is undeniable.  Two years later, my grandchildren still believe fairies were hiding all around them.  Wouldn't it be wonderful to be able to go back to your childhood and rediscover that person?  You know the person, the one who believed in the good in everyone.  The person who believed that dreams do come true.  The person who believed in them self.  What were your dreams when playing with paper dolls?  Did you cut out a beautiful wedding dress and attach it to the pretty paper lady and walk her down the aile with her handsome gentleman?  Did you imagine a beautiful home with two or three perfect well behaved children or like me did you design your own clothes for your paper doll and imagine one day becoming a famous New York designer?  Funny how dreams slip away with our ordinary day to day coming and going.  I had completely forgotten about designing clothes for my paper dolls until just now.  As a child I believed in myself, in my artistic abilities.  Somewhere along life's journey I lost that belief. 

Today I believe in magic.  I believe in the magic of a child's laughter, of the smell of freshly cut grass, of the miracle of a rainbow and I believe in the healing strength of love.

I can Garden, Yah right!?!

When I bought my little magic cottage some 17 years ago I envisioned the yard beautifully landscaped in some old fashion country cottage style.  Regrettably the yard is in no better condition than the day I bought it.  I have discovered lawn care is hard work and even though I love the smell of freshly mowed grass, that is about all I love about the maintenance.  I have considered hiring someone to do the landscaping for me.  That is until I started asking friends how much they paid to have their landscaping done.  Wow!  Actually I believe the landscaper deserves every nickel he received for his services.  As I said, lawn care is a lot of work.  My problem is that it just isn't in the budget.

So what's a girl to do?  One chapter in my new book You Can Do It is called Dig It.  This chapter supposedly gives guidance for gardening.  I say supposedly because I haven't read it yet.  Once completing the steps laid out in the book I will have a beautifully manicured lawn and will have also earned a Gardening Merit Badge.  Guess I had better get that book out and start reading.  Spring won't wait around for me to get around to it and I am told that is when planting begins.  The wind is picking up so perhaps we will have more rain.  Can't dig and plant in the rain.  Saved for another day.

Angel Food Cake

I just removed an angel food cake from the oven.  The first angel food cake I have made in over three decades.  This one turned out as badly as the others.  Now you know why I don't bake angel food cakes.  The cake was heavy and tough as shoe leather.  That may be because it was slightly burned or it just might be because the cake mix had been sitting forlornly in my kitchen cabinets for at least two years, maybe three.

Angel Food cake has a way of bringing back fond memories of my maternal grandmother like nothing else.  Grandma made the best angel food cake from scratch, not a mix like mine.  The cake was light and airy but it wasn't the cake that was special.  No it was the mile high pink fluffy icing made with white Karo syrup whipped into heavenly pink clouds.  She always made her angel food cake with pink fluffy icing for the annual church picnic.  Sue and I spent a week each year with Aunt Virginia who lived next door to Grandma.  Our week was always the week of vacation bible school.  We loved going to vacation bible school, not because we were learning the  joys of being a Christian but because we had new friends to play with.  Aunt Virginia and Uncle Kenny had no children when we were small and all though we loved them we wanted children to play with when we visited.  Following the conclusion of a week of bible school the Chambersburg Christian Church held their annual picnic.  It was always a glorious celebration of fellowship and lots of good food.  I had never seen so much food and everything was luscious.  Still, the hit of the picnic was Grandma's pink fluffy angel food cake.

Grandma has been dead for over 40 years now.  I cherish my memories of time spent with her.  Children take for granted the love showered on them by their grandparents.  Now that I am a grandmother I realize this and regret that I didn't tell my grandmother how very much I loved her.  I won't make the same mistake with my children and grandchildren.  They are going to hear about my for them whether they want to or not.

2011 MS Mud Run

Last year my kindred spirit, Kathy and I witnessed our first Mud Run.  We were blown away by the obstacles set up for this 10 k race.  While watching the race Kathy kept telling me we could do it too.  I looked at her like she was crazy.  I have participated in 5 k fun runs but never anything this strenuous.  Plus why the $#&% would I want to run a race in mud?

Kathy wore my resistance down after hearing her tell me we could do it for a year.  Yesterday we competed in our first MS Mud Run.  "Compete" isn't a very accurate description of our role in the race.  A better description might be participated in the event.  There were over 2200 participants and we probably took last place.  Can't say that for certain because there were so many participants that every 15 minutes 75 runners were released onto the course.  The race started at 9 AM.  We started at 10 A.M. and when we crossed the finish line 3 hours 26 minutes later there were still people waiting to run.

The course was built by a former U.S. Marine so I assume it was designed similar to that of a marine boot camp.  Never serving in the armed forces I couldn't say for sure.  There were probably 25 to 30 muddy obstacles (maybe more) ranging from slightly strenuous to really tough (all in mud).  I tried all the obstacles except one.  There was a tall wall that the participants ran up to, jumped and pulled themselves over.  I'm so short I couldn't jump high enough to grab the top of the wall plus I knew I didn't have the upper body strength to pull myself over.  Now I know what to work on, right?  I feel guilty about not trying.  I did try all the other obstacles.  Try is the key word here.  I was not able to complete all the obstacles such as the cargo rope wall and the monkey ropes.  I broke my left wrist a couple of years ago.  It was not strong enough to pull my body up the wiggly rope ladder but I did try.  Even though a couple of the obstacles were a little scary, I was able to do it because our fellow participants were all so helpful and encouraging.  I can't say enough about the camaraderie.  All the participants were wonderful.  I had moments when slipping and sliding in a deep mud pit when I thought there was no way out and then a big hand would be offered to me and I was suddenly pulled out of the mire.

At the finish line there were muddy high fives, chest bumps and slaps on the back.  All at once I had new energy and danced in the parking lot eating my free Hardees turkey burger and fries in my bare feet.  The muddy combat boots had to come off.  The last 2 miles of the race had been rather painful.  The boots had made blisters on the heels of both feet.  When I removed the boots and mud soaked socks I also removed the top layer of skin over the blisters.  I am covered in bruises and scrapes and every muscle in my body aches.  Yesterday I said I would never do it again.  Today?  Yes, I know I would.  It was an awesome experience giving me a new knowledge of my inner and outer strength.