When It Comes To Packing, I'm A Ditherer

When I begin to prepare to leave for a trip, I have visions of my suitcase looking like this:

It usually ends up looking more like this.

Packing is a talent that I seemed to have missed out on. I love to travel, but the packing part is not fun for me. Most mornings I have a hard time deciding what I want to wear that day....how do I decide what I want to wear for the next week? When you add shoes, maybe some jewelry and whatever else needs to go into the suitcase, I'm a mess.

What almost always happens is that I pack way too much. I start out with a pretty good plan, but somewhere in the execution the plan goes awry. I become a ditherer. I can't decide between two things, so I take them both. I like to have choices.

I'm packing now to go to a wedding in Cabo San Lucas. I'm leaving tomorrow (I was supposed to leave Thursday, but  there's a snowstorm coming our way, so I'm leaving a day early). I need to finish packing, but I can't decide if  I want to take the green swimsuit or the black. Maybe I'll just take both, and the maybe the red one too.

Breast Cancer and My Best Friend

In December it will be seven years since my best friend, Suza (Soo-zay) died from breast cancer. She survived for three years after her diagnosis, with many complications along the way. I remember and miss her each day and especially in this month of special awareness.

Suza and I were best friends from sixth grade on. We were best friends through the perils of junior high, high school and college. She was my best friend through the death of both of my parents when I was only 18. We were best friends through weddings, births, and divorces. We were best friends through raising three children each as single mothers. I hope I was the best friend I could possibly be to her during the final challenge of her life.

I won't enumerate all the things you should do in regard to your own breast cancer awareness. We all know what they are. I only ask that you do them.

Six Word Saturday

Love clean sheets,

hate changing them

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It's Time For Us to Rescue A Dog

We've decided to get a dog. Actually, Doc has decided, since I have wanted one for a long time and he has said for a long time that he doesn't want to take on that much responsibility, expense, and all of the other things that go along with having a dog. I don't know what changed his mind, and I'm afraid to ask, but he said earlier this week that he thinks  it's time for us to get a dog. Voila! We are now in search of just the right dog for us.

We both agree that we want to get a rescue dog, or a dog from the animal shelter. We have both had dogs of various kinds throughout our lives. Doc grew up with Cocker Spaniels, but dearly loved my last dog, a very friendly Chow. We're both thinking probably a mutt of some sort, not too small, not too big, likes children and hopefully not much of a shedder.

It will be a little while before we actually get the little guy, or girl. We have some fence issues to sort out first. That is, we have no fence and a yard that is not very fenceable. As much as I want a dog, I don't want to have to get up extra early to take it for walks on cold mornings before I go to work. I have my limits as a dog rescuer. But, Doc is on the fence thing and when he gets on something he is like, well, he is like a dog on a bone.

My Mother Was A "Pretty Girl" and A Feminist

8 Pretty Girls

But You Can't Marry

That was the headline for the article that included this picture which was published in the Daily Oklahoman on Sunday, April 3, 1938. My mother is the "pretty girl" on the left in the picture.

She was 24 years old and had made the decision to be a self-supporting, unmarried, working woman. In 1938, that was an unusual  and remarkable lifestyle. She and seven other working women lived together  in a large home in an upscale neighborhood. The newspaper article about these independent women was written in a tone that would raise both eyebrows and hackles in today's world. Here are some exerpts:

At 1608 Classen Boulevard is a large Spanish type house. It has the same distinguishing elegance of line that is characteristic of the houses in the block-those of a bone specialist, a city minister, a corporation lawyer, an architecht and some of the city's business and professional leaders.

But this house is a fairy tale palace without a prince charming and royal treasury. Without even a butcher, baker or candelabra maker to provide a monthly paycheck.

But there are eight young girls and fair, who live their lives in peace and harmony. Last winter these eight girls decided that eight hours work for each or the 64 they worked collectively each day was no excuse for a lack of home life. So they banded together and rented the house.

When and if slight differences arise, they are ironed out within the cloistered walls lest someone outside the organization should shake a knowing head. The tradition that two women can not live in the same house is being broken four times over.

About house rules. There aren't many. There's a standing rule against inviting large groups of people in to make noise. It would disturb the neighbors and the clever girls know that there are those who would welcome a chance to critisize a group of batchelor girls living alone.

Not a description that today's feminists would likely appreciate.

My mother did eventually get married and have a family, but at a far later time in her life than was common at the time this article was written.  She continued to be an independent thinker throughout her life and had very feminist views before "feminism" game into being.

Six Word Saturday

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It's only 69 days until Christmas!

Oops, I Didn't Do It.....Again

I'm going to a wedding in Cabo San Lucas, Mexico in a couple of weeks. About three months ago I did what I always do when I have  an event coming up. I decided I wanted  to lose 10 lbs before the event. I will be there for 4 days and there will be lots of activities involving beaches and pools and bathing suits (yikes), in addition to the actual wedding. There will also be a lot of food and drink. A little weight loss over a few months seemed like an excellent and achieveable plan.

What is it with those few pounds? A couple of them have come and gone and come again over the last few months, but none of them have left for good. It is now only 2 weeks until I leave and here I am with 10 lbs, (okay, I'll be a lttle realistic,) 5 lbs still to lose. I might be able to lose them, but I'll probably gain them back with the first pina colada I drink.

I have another trip planned, back to Mexico, in January. Wow, that is three whole months away. I'm sure I can lose 10 lbs in three months......