Hit and Miss Care'n

I know, I know... blogging is fun. So much fun. Very fun. Some fun. Who's fun? I shouldn't complain, I DO like to enter, but with my schedule, I just am wipped out after work so my creativity gets waylayed and I crash at 8. No film at 11.

I came home from the Jim and Jessica wedding in one piece to a devoted husband. Not much had happened while I was away. But the first ever crop of peaches went unpicked and so there they were...crowding the weeds at the base of the tree. Boo. I was so looking forward to : a: sliced peach on my cereal b:sliced peach on vanilla ice cream and c: 1/2 cup of a peach cobbler to share with David. Next year.

We are in a whirlwind mode of organizing our home and garage, to live more simply. It is so rewarding when I can say, "David, please go out to the pantry and get me a can of pineapple (because the peaches didn't make it)" and he can go directly to the shelf, didn't have to pass GO or pay to get out of the maze! He has made incrediable movement on the house. I love it!

Work is more or less.... make that LESS than interesting. We are finding files and sending them to archives. Whoopee. We are all just bidding our time for the big layoff in December. I don't know the plans beyond that, except I have made noises about going back to school so I can learn how to poke people in the arm and draw blood. I VONT YOUR BLOOOOD! It could take a year, which I may not have. This is the part where I panic, but it doesn't look as good on the screen as in person. Quite the sight... mouth wide open, eyes squinted, heart visably beating out of my chest, hair being pulled, and small little steps in a circle as I chase my tail! I guess you have to be here..as a matter of fact, you should be here! Anyone reading this is welcome to come and pay homage to the dead peaches, cheer me up about my future *or not* job, or pick up a clear plastic box and store it on the shelf for us! We are leaving the light on!

ROAD TRIP!! WHOOO WHOOO

Well, we are off on an adventure... it is Stephanie, Jimmy, Kaitlin and me! Unlikely foursome on to Utah to go to a wedding! Jim's to be exact.
We rented a van big enough (almost) to carry all our stuff and other people's stuff and most important, CAR FOOD! Car food is a science really. You should chose food that will not look to bad when someone gets motion sickness....... not! Really, healthy car food is a blasphmy.... it has to be Ding Dongs, Cheezeits, string cheese *ok I'm not that insensitive to healthyfood*, Carmel and Strawberry rice cakes, sparkling water, and so on and so on. Maps are optional on a road trip. Adventure a must!
We left David at home due to the fact he doesn't travel too well, gets wrinkled you know. So I will miss him, but we are filling the time with family, dinners, more family and driving, driving.
We will leave very early in the a.m. and travel all day.
I made a dress for the wedding, but unbeknowst to me, my body decided to add some weight and when I finished it, it didn't fit! Help! So shopping will be in the agenda as well.
I hope to add to this blog during the week, so stay tuned and remember, car food is good only on the road!

Father

My father (sometimes hard to use the more familiar term "dad") has come up in the more recent "LOOPS" (see earlier blog) with my mom. She has referred to the way they met, at night school in the library. Their courtship was brief and then my father proposed. However, my grandmother did not approve the pairing because she needed the "room and board" my mom provided and the impending nuputials would cut off the funds. That and the fact that my father was not Catholic did not sit well with my grandmother. Well, then WWII made the news, and my father was drafted and sent off to North Africa as a general's clerk and editor of the "Screaming Red Asses (as in donkey)" unit newsletter, and the wait was on...four years to be exact. Upon his return in August of 1945, they planned their wedding. On a bright and sunny Saturday in November, they wed.
Long story, to bring you to the point of my entry today..and that is that my mother's patience was life long. You see, my father traveled the entire time we kids were growing up. He started his career in 1947 with the Military Sea Transport Service, aboard a ship that carried 4400 troops to the Pacific Rim. In the early days, the troops and their families would make the 6 week trek to Okinawa or the Phillipines aboard this large ship. The Army owned ship made a concession to the families and had a 10 ft by 10 ft cage on the deck that had a swing, slide and hopscotch drawing inside. That was were the kids could play when sailing. Pretty sad, but necessary in high seas. My father was a purser. Chief purser. He was in charge of all payroll, ship's bills, and supply orders. He was very well respected by his peers. This is were things get interesting. After their wedding, my sister was born almost a year later. My father was antsy, he wanted something other than working for my grandfather's accounting firm. He signed up for MSTS and the rest is (my) history. He sailed the high seas for 38 years. Sailing for 6 weeks, home for 3 days, gone again for 6 weeks, and on and on. Not exactly an ideal life for a family. The family suffered. Sometimes in silence sometimes in protest. I did try that once. I was 16 and decided that I wanted an explanation for the absence. Well, that didn't go over very well as my father did not see a good reason to justify his choice. It was sad. I thought that he would want to reassure me that he loved us, wanted to be with us, but that didn't happen. I believe that he felt trapped by my confrontation and just walked away. I never did get a good explanation from either my mother or my father. This is the kind of thing you have to forgive and move on or it will haunt you.
Despite the trama, my father was an incrediable man. Self educated. Would be reading 2 or 3 books at a time. Had a full typed record of all American and National League baseball players: runs, times at bat, trades, etc on 3 x 5 index cards. He was meticulous with this hobby. He introduced us to classical, country, jazz, big band music. Even The Supremes. He taught us about Japanese farmers who wrapped silk bags around each apple blossom as a form of protection from insects. Also, he showed us how to stain a redwood fence, and the proper way to eat an ear of corn. These are small examples of his way of parenting. He was a very complex man. I am sure that when we are united in the next life, he will be more prepared to welcome us into his heart. I am ready.

Busy Bee

The last three days have been so hectic and busy that I wonder if I can do this all the time. It wouldn't be so much if each event wasn't so committed.
On Thursday, I "volunteered" my Smoky Joe for a company BBQ, which in and of itself is pretty benign. However, because I opened my big mouth about catering, I was "volunteered" to assist the execs in their cooking duties. Well, it would have been fine had the execs had an idea on how to grill. Bless their little hearts. But because of novice rank, I ended up running back and forth between grills trying to keep some semblance of order. Fun. Really fun. Honest. Fun.

Friday proved to be a run around day too. Flag ceremonies in the morning, BBQ with mom and her cronies (some of which are two steps short of a walk).... but she decided to move to the "new" Maple House II. She will have a lovely room with patio access and new everything. I think she will really enjoy the change, until she doesn't. Off to cook dinner for the missionaries and ALSO a dinner for a new mom of twins, Melanie Suttner. How could I resist? A boy named Cameron and a girl named Autumn. Sweet, little and a lot of work. Run home, eat dinner, get surprised by a visit from Stephanie and Jimmy and Kaitlin. Now there is a busy bee!!! She is so curious and persistent for answers. I love it. I played on the computer with her and my Webkinz. She was fascinated by the activities and wanted change their clothes every 5 minutes, it was fun.
Off to bed by 11, and totally spent. Do bees go to bed at 11?

My blues man...

I just talked to Stephanie (daughter) on the phone. She returned from her combo trip to Idaho (for a trade show) and Utah. She was tired, but always upbeat. As I was conversing and finding out the latest and greatest with Kaitlin, dogs and fires, I had incredible background music from my husband, David. His talents never cease to amaze me. My parents bestowed us kids with love of music and it has never wavered with me. For years (still do) I would sing along with the radio, much to the dismay of my parents/children/innocent riders. Often I forget the words which doesn't make me a very good candidate to preform in front of someone. Oh yeah, and the words I forget I just make up something that sorta sounds like the lyric. Maybe that is a talent too!
David started playing the guitar when he was 10. His family on his dad's side all had some honky tonk tunes in their back pocket and gave him his first "geetar". His mom shared with me that sometimes David would come out of his room with bloody fingers from playing so much. That was in the beginning, and his dedication has never faltered. I really understand that passion, which makes it even sweeter in my appreciation. My cooking falls in that same spectrum. Everyone should have at least one thing in life that never gets old, never fades or goes away.
Tonight he is just playing simple notes and melodies that are familiar to me but on his new Seagull guitar sound so good.
He defines himself as a musician. Not a guy who plays instruments, but an ingrained title of artistry.
They say if you don't use your talents you lose your talents. Well the opposite must be true, if you indulge your talents and make them part of your life, they increase. That has been the truth for David.
Maybe it is not so important if he is acknowledged in the world, or have articles written about him, multiple albums sold. Yes, it might help pay the bills, but the price of "selling out" (not concerts) to the "man" would take its toll.
You see I have learned a lot about artists by living with David. Art for art's sake is truly a mantra for many. Just the idea of creative juices flowing is enough for some people. They don't need the accolades.
I have encouraged David's exploration of music worlds. I thought it would be great for him to write a children's album...of "Blues for the Babies". Kids surely must have a case of down and outs from time to time. Maybe that is what is meant by "spilt milk".
How about an acoustic version of hymns?
He calls his music "sinnin' music" which limits what he can play for Ward potlucks (inside joke). But for the most part, his music is a total reflection of his view on the world. That may sound depressing, but David is a thoughtful man. His thoughts are his way of reaching out and connecting with someone who may be going through hard times. I know he has very tender spots in his heart and singing about them somehow protects him from getting hurt. But for me to analyze him on this blog might just embarrass him. Either that or he will go into complete denial... regardless I truly love my husband...sinnin' music and all.

Today I cried....

I cried today, which may not be unusual, because I have often been accused of being anatomically incorrect (kidneys behind my eyes).

But my tears were more of a child's hurt. You see, my mom is a demencia patient, often in a "15 second loop" for her conversations. Example: "Who was your father? What was his name? How long were we married? Are you married? Who was your father? What was his name? How long were we married? Are you married? " and so on. My confusion is that I never know what will set her off on a "loop". The loops are both positive "I sure like this ice cream. I remember when I was little and we could only have ice cream every few months. Chocolate is my favorite.I sure like this ice cream. I remember when I was little and we could only have ice cream every few months. Chocalate is my favorite." or take on a negative slant which I don't need to demonstrate.

Today, I stopped in to visit her at her assisted living home and she was in a foul mood. I could tell just by the reception I got. Immediately, she started in a loop of "I thought you were coming to take me home. Why can't I go home with you?I thought you were coming to take me home. Why can't I go home with you?"
When I tried to explain that THIS was her home, I was met with steely eyes, a sullen look, and the ever popular, "Fine! Just fine."
With a few rounds under her belt, she finally said, "We will not talk about this anymore". There was no pleasing her. No upbeat comments that she could digest. This is the part where I cry. Only I cry in the car. I don't ever let her see me upset. She wouldn't understand. My tears were created by so many elements. Being her sole support in this world, by that I mean, morale, transportation, financial administrator, health care consultant and reporter to her doctors, her only connection to her children (I call them to talk to her) and her sister ~ is a large job. Sometimes it feels too big for me. Any reprive I might have comes by not showing up as often to see her. And then the guilt creeps in. Finding the balance is not easy.
So crying was a reflection of my hurt, hurt at being scolded. At being wrong, once again. Reduced to a 6 year old in mischief, I left the home. Got in the car and cried. I don't like it when my mom is mad at me. I come from a generation that doesn't normally talk back to their elders. So for me to try and rationalize with her was pointless.
She is 87 years old ("How did I get to be this old?") and so her credits for age out weigh any anger I can express to her. She told me the other day that she was coming to the end of her days. I asked her if she was afraid. She said yes. Only because she doesn't know where she will end up. I told her I believed that she will see her husband, my dad, again. She says she wishes she could remember him better. "He will know you, so don't worry" I tell her. She believes that she has to take a run through pergatory first.... oh well.
I suppose that there are many reasons I can cry because of my mother. My choice is not at her funeral. Love is funny that way.

Lazy hazy days of the first day of Summer

Nat King Cole is turning in his grave right now..I decimated the title of a very cute song.
"Lazy" days because of the heat!
Last Thursday it was 101 in Santa Cruz and for all of you NOT familiar with the weather pattern in Santa Cruz, that is too hot. If I went to the beach to get cooler, I would be harpooned as a beluga whale, so I had to be satisfied for a quick run in the sprinklers! David got a kitchen towel and soaked it in cold water and "surprised" me with the relief!
This brings up the subject of where I can live out the rest of my days, summer or not. We took a trip to North Carolina in April and announced that the weather was just fine, not too hot, or too cold... but good little Goldilocks perfect. Now I am not so sure I could live a summer there. Google has a cool tool where you can show the weather in another part of the country and keep a chart of your local weather right below.. compare and cheer, or groan depending on the forecast. Well, last week, Charlotte North Carolina was peaking at 99 degrees and 85 degrees humidity...hmm sticking to the furniture are you??? I lived those summers in Rhode Island with NO air conditioning in the home and it was not pretty. But everything we have looked at in real estate boldly claims to have air conditioning ~ should send a clue that if EVERY home has it, why?? Yep, hot summers.
Just yesterday, I looked at a home online which had an above ground pool. Does that mean the ground is too hot to dig for an in ground pool? House hunting online is great...in - out, no gas to travel in the quest. Quick judgement if you could live there or not. Square footage, size of lot and location are all part of the equation... but again, every home advertised says, "smoke alarm". Why? I don't know, but it seems logical that you wouldn't have to mention that as a selling feature unless homes in North Carolina are known for spontaneously bursting into flames, go figure!
Oh yes, and "hazy" because of all the fires going on around us. It started with the Mount Madonna fire( many acres) ; then the Bonny Doon fire (800 acres); and on Friday, the Trabing fire (named after the street it started on - and about 600 acres) which endangered many horses, cattle and wild life. The ash from Bonny Doon covered our cars in a sticky, ugly mess. Ted Bear used to say, "Hey don't worry about nuclear blasts, we still can't control fire!". How true. Some were set delibertly and some by nature's way. In fact, on my way home 10 days ago, there was a fire started on the side of the road near a county park. That was scary.

We are back to lazy today (Sunday) as the weather has given us a break and shows all the world why God prefers Santa Cruz to most anywhere else. He even tolerates the surfers, Boardwalk arcades and traffic X(times) eternity. All this to capture a lung full of slightly marine layer air, mixed with breezes on the 8 mile speed limit, crossed with just enough heat to knock all will to work out of you. Serene? you bet. I will miss this place...and I haven't even left yet!