Tuesday, September 29, 2009
I like the saying "getting old is not for sissies." It says a lot about the realities of aging. One of the realities of aging that I like to keep in mind is that it will all go a little better if you keep a sense of humor about it. If the humor is about someone else's aging all the better. I like these:
Two elderly gentlement from a retirement center were sitting on a bench when one turns to the other and says: "I'm 83 years old now and I'm just full of aches and pains. I know you're about my age. How do you feel? His friend says, "I feel just like a newborn baby."
"Really!? Like a newborn baby!?
"Yep. No hair, no teeth, and I think I just wet my pants."
Three old guys are out walking.
First one says "Windy, Isn't it?"
Second one says, "No, it's Thursday!"
Third one says, "So am I. Let's go get a beer."
A little old man shuffled slowing into an ice cream parlor and pulled himself slowly, painfully, up onto a stool...After catching his breath, he ordered a banana split.
The waitress kindly asks, "crushed nuts?"
"No," he replied, "arthritis."
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
For the last nine years or so my daughters and I have gotten together on Tuesday nights with each other and all the kids as they came along. It started when my first grandson was born. My daughter, Jill, was home alone all day with a new baby. Her husband does team roping and his night for roping is Tuesday. She didn't want being home alone with a new baby to last into the night so she "enlisted" her sister, Joanna, and me to join her every Tuesday night for some activity, and we have continued it weekly ever since.
Our Tuesday nights might be a trip to the mall, dinner at a restaurant, or more often dinner at one of our homes. It's when we dye Easter eggs and decorate Christmas cookies. It's when I get hit up to buy Girl Scout Cookies or school fund-raiser items. It's a wonderful once a week commitment to family.
As the kids are getting older and more involved in their own activities Tuesday nights are getting harder to come by. The three oldest are involved in everything from sports, to Brownies, to acting classes to piano lessons, so inevitably and more often, one of them has a practice or a class or a lesson or a meeting on Tuesday night. I think that going forward we will continue to have Tuesday nights, but some of them may have to be on Wednesday or Thursday.On a recent Tuesday night we
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
I logged on to Facebook to look at something quickly before going to work. The moment I got on the chat screen popped up from a friend and neighbor and sort of relative, in other words someone I know pretty well.
The chat box said "r u there", which was my first clue that this was something odd, as he would not likely write in "computerspeak". Actually, it was my second clue, since him actually communicating via the chat box at 7:30 a.m., or at all, just wouldn't be expected.
I, nevertheless, responded, "I'm here.," and then it went something like this:
"I'm in London."
"I'm in London, and I got mugged."
"They got my wallet with all my money and my ID and my credit cards."
"Yeah, can you help me? I just need some money to take care of my hotel bill."
At that point I immediately logged off of Facebook.
And, yes, I let my friend know someone had hacked into his account.
Last week my daughter got an e-mail from a friend asking for just a little bit of money to help with something. My daughter e-mailed the friend telling her someone had hacked into her
e-mail, and immediately got an e-mail back saying "no, really, I need your help." Then , of course, my daughter called her friend, and it turned out several people had gotten the same
It's hard to believe people really get sucked in by these things, but they must because it wouldn't keep happening if someone wasn't benefiting.
It left me feeling really uneasy, but I guess not as bad as I would feel if I had actually sent money off into cyberspace.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
But, I have to say that having him turn 40 is making me feel older than any birthday I have ever had myself. I am, and always will be, 22 years older than he is. I don't mind saying that I am 62 years old, but I am finding it a little hard to say that I have a 40 year old son. I think I am going to have to start lying about his age.
For his birthday, Rob's wife asked the whole family to send her memories and thoughts about him that she put into an album for him. Since Rob has been a great son for 40 years (sigh) I thought it would be easy. I found it harder to put the memories into words than I thought it would be. Here is some of what I shared.
- When Rob was born the hospital bill was only $7.
- Rob could identify all the letters of the alphabet when he was 18 months old.
- He could hear a song and pick out the notes on a toy piano at 3 or 4 years old. I have alway been in awe of his musical ability.
- Though he definitely always had a mind of his own, even as a little boy Rob had the ability to think about the feelings of others.
- The first time he saw his "baby" sister in a bikini he had a reaction that would rival that of any parent.
- Rob and I had our "coming of age" experience when he was 18 or 19 and we were both at a party at the Boulder Reservoir....everyone but Rob and I and a few others ended up with all their clothes off. We were on an island that you could only get to by boat, so just leaving wasn't an option. We made it through that and both grew up a little.
- No one makes Rob do something he doesn't want to do.
- Rob always answers my stupid computer questions without making me feel stupid.
- Rob makes it very obvious that he loves being a dad.
- Rob has as uncanny ability to remember things from a very young age. It's great to have a family historian.
Happy Birthday Rob, and let's keep that 40 thing just between us.
Friday, September 11, 2009
They call me Grandmom or Grandmommy, and my 7 year old granddaughter calls me a very abbreviated "grmom". The others are Grandma and Grandpa, Granddad and Gammy, Mimi and Pop, Grandma T and Big Pappy, and there are a couple of Nanas and Papas. The kids seem to have no problem keeping it all straight, but I have to admit I get a little confused sometimes.
I knew only one of my grandparents and I called her Grandmother. She had over 25 grandchildren and they all called her Grandmother. My kids called their grandmother Grandmom, and I guess I inherited that, and it is fine with me.
What did you call your grandmother?
What do your grandchildren call you, or what do you want to be called if you become a grandmother or have a grandparent-like relationship with a child?
I don't think we'll need any new ones, but I thought I'd get some ideas, just in case.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Oops! I did it again. I got the urge to cook, found the kitchen and followed the urge to make use of it. This not-so-pretty picture was the result. It took me back to a post from sometime last spring, so I am re-posting it (I hope that's allowed) as a reminder to myself.
This is not a very attractive picture...not at all cute like blog pictures are supposed to be. I'm using it as a reminder to myself of why I don't cook very often, or at least to pay more attention when I do cook. Don't misunderstand, I can cook. In fact, I can cook pretty well when I make the effort. Unfortunately, my best efforts lie in the direction of the not so good for us Southern cooking that I grew up with, though I can do a more than passable job on heart-healthy if I try. I spent many years cooking every day, but pretty much gave it up about the time Joanna was 15 or 16 and didn't often show up at home for a meal, or had just eaten Taco Bell. Lately I have been making an effort to take my lunch to work instead of buying lunch every day (the economy and all), but I am pretty tired of the few things I usually have on hand to take. So, today I decided to go to the grocery store (ugh) and do some cooking for lunches, and maybe even a couple of dinners this week. I bought what I needed to make chicken noodle soup, a chicken casserole and chicken salad and came home feeling pretty smug and proud of myself. The picture tells the story. The knife, the onion and my thumb ended up on a collision course. The cut is not as bad as the bandage makes it look, but it was bleeding a lot and I still had cooking to do. I made it through the chicken noodle soup, and the chicken casserole. The chicken salad will have to wait for another day. Oh, and I'm pretty sure I spent more at the grocery store than I would spend buying lunch every day and a couple of dinners, and I've looked at so much chicken I'm not sure I really want to actually eat chicken any time soon.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Ellis and Anna ready for the parade
Wil and Justin wondering when they are going to start throwing
candy. (Justin has stitches over his eye)
Friday, September 4, 2009
I have never liked my name very much.
I have always been called Jeanie, but my name is really Dorothy Jean. Dorothy was sort of an old fashioned name when I was a child, and unlike names like Claire and Grace and Madeline it has never come back in to fashion.
A post I read recently, which you can see here, http://noexcuses318.blogspot.com/ , about the "What ifs" in life took me all the way back to "what if" I had been given a different name. I was supposed to have been named Sally, but I was born on a relative's birthday and the plan changed. The only people who ever called me Dorothy Jean were my father (it was his relative) and my brother when he wanted to make me mad.
Would my life have been any different if that relative had been named Amanda or Sarah, or if she had been Edith or Myrtle? Would I have seen myself differently if she had been Alice or Edna? There is a whole field of research built around names....their origins, their meanings, what's currently popular and what's not, but none of it tells me if I would be a different person if I had been named Jacqueline.
How do you relate to people based on their names? Do you relate differently to a Tiffany than to a Velma. Do you like your name?
I have always been and will always be Dorothy Jean, and I will always say my name is Jeanie, unless I'm voting or getting on an airplane, but I will always wonder "what if".
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Where I live in Colorado, we are about a thousand miles downwind from the fires currently burning in California. Yesterday our sky was clouded all day with a smokey haze from the fires.
We had a little wind today so it is much clearer, but there is still a haze.
Thanks to Fred Wilson, Dad to my daughter-in-law, Leah, and Papa to Wil and Anna for the beautiful sunrise picture and the title for this post.
And lots of hope that the fires will be contained soon.