Time Marches On

When is it time to start worrying about aging? I remember when I turned 50 and wrote an article I called "The Fifties Queen" about the ways people's attitude towards women changed. It was actually published on an author's website. (Jennifer Louden, who has written several books.) I thought for a while that would be a huge turning point in my life as a writer.  Obviously, it wasn't because it was twenty-six years ago!

I used to work most often with people who were younger than me. It seemed that as soon as the subject of age came up, I felt like co-workers treated me differently.  I learned that fifty is the age when many women think they are becoming invisible. Suddenly, it seems like your opinions don't matter as much.

Excerpt from The 50's Queen:

"Things change when you are fifty. You are suddenly in another age bracket in surveys. You are no longer the young mother, and you don't feel quite old enough to be wise. Doctors study your charts a little bit more and suddenly start ordering tests just to have a baseline. Hormone therapy is recommended as the immediate cure to any problems that you have now or may have sometime in the distant (or not so distant) future. Every question seems to have same answer-that you are fifty now, and things will be different. If you lose or forget about anything, it is suddenly attributed to your age, even if you have been losing and forgetting things for years."

One of the biggest jolts for me at fifty, was when my mom called to tell me that there was a big sale on underwear at a local department store. "Big, white, cool, and loose" she said. "Just the way WE like them." I was crushed. It was one of those moments when time stood still. She then went on to say that my younger sisters wouldn't be interested, but of course I would. It was a defining moment of my womanhood. I started asking everyone what kind of underwear they bought. I wore sexy bikini panties way longer than I probably should have, just because I didn't want to give in to reality. Now that I am older and wiser, I believe in comfort.

I am still losing and forgetting things, but now my friends and I know that it is because we really are getting older. And sometimes we wonder if our absent-minded foibles are just innocent mistakes or symptoms of something more serious. John and I are watching one another and putting a reminder by our exit door. He is a few years older than I am, so I have been teasing him about things that happen here. He has been known to go out to restaurants in his house slippers instead of his outside shoes. He has also forgotten his wallet more than once. He wears a hearing aid when he wants to and pretends he is listening to me the rest of the time. Sometimes we will miss an exit when driving. I am the one who forgets and loses my phone the most often. Just last night I came home from a funeral visitation and realized that my shirt was inside out. There was a washing instruction tag on one side seam, and a size tag for all the world to see. And of course, all the raw edges of the seams. It's a good thing we have one another for our old age.

WHAT I'M READING: I just started Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke. It is called a satirical and dark thriller about a trad-wife influencer. I haven't gotten very far yet and am reading it for an online book club.

SAD STORIES

 I have always liked to write. Writing my thoughts is the way I comprehend how I feel. I don't write every day although I would like to. I have the idea that sitting at my desk and writing for two hours every morning would turn me into a "real" writer. Unfortunately for me, all I really want to do in the early mornings is drink coffee.

Someone just told me that she likes reading my work because she finds it comfortable and comforting. I like these definitions. I also want it to be relatable and funny and a little bit whimsical. And sometimes it is heartfelt and heartrending. This is one of those times.

I lost a dear friend a few weeks ago. She was a few years older than I am. She was a mentor as well as a friend. I am sorry that I didn't get to know her sooner. I will always miss her.

This week the granddaughter of one of my friends since childhood died in a tragic auto accident. The circumstances were much like the jury case that troubled me so much just a couple of weeks ago. What price can you put on a life? She was only nineteen. Hers was a life that was barely lived and ended before it should have been finished.

Every death, every funeral reminds us of all the others we have been a part of- our grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, friends, and colleagues. We know in our hearts that we will lose them at some point in time. But we never think that we will outlive our children. And that should not happen.  As I talked to my friend today she said that a tragedy like this was what happened to other people, but not to her family. I remember when those were my thoughts too, before my son died in his sleep at the age of thirty. Yes, every death is a reminder. My mind flashes back to the night I sat at my first husband's bed and cried all night because I knew he was going to be taken off life support the next morning. So young, 19. So young, 30. So young, 62.

I ache for my young friend. I sent her family strength and prayers because Strength is what we need to get us through these times. It is almost required to send prayers. Do prayers help? I don't know. I don't believe that prayers will change an outcome. I lost that faith when my son and husband were taken from us just a few short months apart. I never got it back. I envy those who still have it, but, for me, it's gone.

I've learned some truths since I realized that death is not what happens to other people. Don't worry about having courage and being brave so that others won't be uncomfortable. Cry as much as necessary. Talk. Remember the good times. Tell your stories. Let someone listen. Say their names. Hold on to one another. Scream in a car in a dark parking lot if it helps you feel better. Drink tea. 

Do whatever you need to do. Jim washed and ironed all of our son's shirts because he said that Rich wouldn't want to know they were wrinkled. I slept with my grown son's baby blanket for six months until my husband hid it away. And then he was dead two months later, so I slept with his shirt and the blanket!

My deepest griefs have been several years ago, but they never go away. Funerals always bring them back just like everything happened yesterday. I have learned to be happy again, but it is never an easy journey.

This may not have been comfortable, and certainly not whimsical, but it was a story I needed to share. Be safe everyone. I send us all Strength.

What I'm reading: I'm still enthralled with ancient Rome. Just trying to get through my library books before they are due.

Tiptoe Through The Tulips

My husband John always likes to be early for things. I think we've had to make a few adjustments since I like to be right on time but have a tendency to be late. Now I ask him what time he wants to leave. He tells me, and I think he is learning not to expect me to be ready to go until that very exact time. For quite a while after we got married he would suddenly announce that he was "ready to go" with no advance warning whenever we had to be somewhere. We finally discussed it and I found out that he thought he was making a joke. It was a line from some television show that I had hardly heard of and never watched. So he wasn't really trying to irritate the heck out of me. He thought he was being funny. I thought this marriage might end before it even really got started.

I tell you this story to explain why we are at The Tulip Festival more than a week before it even begins. 

Pella is a quaint little village about 45 miles from Iowa's capital city. It is a great place to go for a day trip or even a couple of days any time of the year. Cute shops, good restaurants, a town square and, and museums make it a good place to visit at any time.

There are probably tulip celebrations in many little towns with a Dutch heritage, but I'm pretty sure that the one in Pella, Iowa is one of the best.

We visited eight days before the official start time. There were quite a few people around, but nothing like it will be next week. I think we started going early because one year we couldn't find a place to park without walking too many blocks. And I really don't like big crowds.

It takes a lot of planning to make something like this happen. This is the ninety-first year for the festival. The Parks Department and volunteers are responsible for planting over 120,000 tulips bulbs every fall. There are at least seventy different varieties. A sample of each is planted in the Avenue of Tulips, so visitors can see them all at one time. This year our spring weather started too soon, so some of the flowers have already peaked, but there are still many to see. I remember one other time when some of the flowers bloomed too early. There were rumors that more tulips were brought in to fill any gaps. After tulip time ends, the bulbs are dug up every single year. People are allowed to collect them. I hear that is a really crazy time. They do this so that there is a different variety every year. I hear that tulip blooms are the prettiest the first year. After the blooms are gone, annual flowers are planted. We don't have any tulips yet at our house, but want to get some this fall.

I felt a little under the weather today, and was even more bedraggled than a few of the tulips, so we didn't stay long. 

There is always a lot to see, during Tulip Time and beyond, so you can visit the website and also pick up one of the free magazines which gives a lot of information.

Fun Facts: The boyhood home of Wyatt Earp (Brave, Courageous, and Bold!) is in the Pella Historical Village.

Don't forget the Klokkenspel. It was made especially for Pella and is part of the large town clock. The musical bells and mechanical wooden figures "perform" several times a day.

The windmill is also very picturesque. It is one of the tallest working windmills in North America. I have never been inside, but tours are available which include all five floors.

The Opera House is definitely worth visiting. And the canal is very pretty. There are parades and street sweeping twice a day. The costumes are very authentic. The Tulip Queen and her Court make a big appearance.

There are many, many things to see and do in Pella all year long. If you can make the trip, I'm sure you will enjoy it.

TO TELL THE TRUTH

                                                                             

        Last week I had jury duty. It was a very long and  intense week. It was much more physical than I am used to anymore. I know I need to walk more than I do now. My fitbit doesn't often hit those numbers. I had to be out of the house earlier than I usually wake up.

Sometimes I think our system makes this as difficult as possible. In the three days before I was supposed to find out if my number was in the chosen group I got six text messages. One told me that I had been picked and needed to report in February. (This is April). Another said that was a mistake. The rest alternated between saying I had been chosen to report and that I may be expected to report. All said to be sure and call the night before. So I went ahead and cancelled appointments that had been scheduled weeks ago-just in case.

This was my third time. The first time I was only there for a couple of days while we decided who would pay for the hood ornament of a car for a minor accident. It was exciting because I was a stay-at-home mom to several little ones and I got to go have lunch with grown-ups! The second time my number was high and all I had to do was call.

This time was the real thing. We spent all of Monday listening to them pick the jury. The lawyers asked all sorts of questions. I didn't think I would get picked, because they didn't ask me very many. Often I think I have a tendency to be invisible in groups. We were cautioned against showing any sympathy or empathy or using our intuition. That's really very difficult. I live by my intuition!

Several were eliminated because they said they couldn't be unbiased. One man said he believed in "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth". He went home right away. Another said he couldn't listen and pay attention all day, and that he would need naps. That got him off too. 

A lot of jury duty involves sitting around and long waits. One day we had a surprise three hour lunch break. That was the day I bought cheese and crackers at the Dollar Store because I couldn't find a place to eat. Most of them brought their lunches or didn't mind walking several blocks. I think I was  the oldest juror. I was happy to take the elevator while most of them cheerfully took the stairs to the third floor. The Courthouse is beautiful and has wonderful and magnificent stairways. Ever since my unfortunate encounter with an acorn just a few days before my trip to Italy, stairs have been difficult for me. Especially so many of them eight times a day! 

It was a very emotional case and I am sure it will stay with me. Did we make the right decision? I hope so. It was hard listening to the evidence and knowing that life can change forever in a split second. And that what we decided will affect some person's life forever. I will be very grateful if this is my last time as a juror.

What I'm reading: I have always been fascinated by early Rome and Pompeii. Lately I have just finished a trilogy called Wolf Den by Elodie Harper. It is about the Roman caste system and slavery and the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Since I have been there, it was especially interesting to me. The language is sometimes crude, but the scenes are not explicit.

BIRTHDAY MEMORIES

Today I am reprinting a column from 2022. It's my dad's birthday and now he would be 101 if he hadn't left us at the age of 66.

Today would have been my dad's 95th birthday. He has been gone since 1993, but lives on for those of us who knew him. He was a great father, but not a typical one. He was a man who lived by his own rules, and I think he expected the same of his children. Most of the time when I think of him, either cars or trucks come into the picture. He dropped out of school and worked as a truck driver around the country. He loved racing, and I think he was happiest when he was at a track. I went to my first stock car race when I was two weeks old. I was in a basket in the stands. I'm sure that Mom insisted we go, because the week before, he had brought us home from the hospital, bought her a pint of ice cream, and then he went to the races. Oh, and it was her birthday. He was a great dad, but I'm not really sure how he rated as a husband.

My parents moved to Texas twice in my first two years. I spent a lot of time with an aunt and uncle of my mother's because they both worked miles away. It's strange for me to think of my formative years being with family I don't ever remember meeting. Mom hated Texas. Dad loved it. 

Finally, she talked him into moving back to Iowa, and they bought a house when I was three. She needed stability while he thrived on adventure. When I was about four he was in a serious accident. During a race, he flipped his car six times. I was at the concession stand, buying cotton candy, and when I came back they were on the way to the hospital. She made him promise to quit driving. I think he could have just as easily promised to quit breathing. He kept it up, just using another name.

He used to have a truck route for a Des Moines dairy, and took me around to collect the milk cans from Iowa farms. During our long drives together, we would play "count the windmills," and "name the license plates."  I learned all about Dizzy Dean, his favorite baseball player. Dizzy didn't like to follow the rules either. We listened to country music, and Mario Lanzo.  He wasn't a religious man, but loved to listen to old time hymns.

He had a very strong sense of justice. Once, I took a pack of gum from a store. Probaby Juicy Fruit. When I showed him my treasure, he turned the car around immediatly, and marched me back into the store to confess. That ended my life of crime.  He was very big on sharing what you have with others, and passed that on to us. He liked to tell us about airplanes that he and his brother got for Christmas one year. A neighbor child hadn't gotten any Christmas toys. His mother made him give his away, and share his brother's plane. He wasn't happy about it, but knew it was the right thing to do. Dad always had a story with a lesson. I think they were true. At least most of them.

I was an only child for five years. By the time I was fifteen, I was older sister and babysitter to four siblings. He wasn't conventional. He was never like any of the other fathers I knew. We were the only family I knew with a giant milk dispenser in our kitchen, and regulation school playground equipment in our back yeard. The things he brought home for us to play on were considered too dangerous for our friends. For many years he sold cars and trucks, and once I learned to drive, I never knew what I would be driving to school. My most embarrassing was the car with "Joey Chitwood, Stunt Driver" painted on the side. There are so many stories, now that I am remembering. When he was Race Promoter, he managed to get the governor to be the flag man at one of the races. For my dad, nothing was ever impossible. Happy Birthday, Lefty. I miss you

                 

 

TRADITIONS

Our country has often been compared to a melting pot. It's filled with many cultures, customs, and traditions.  A lot of our citizens have kept the traditions alive from their native histories. Especially now, with genealogical information readily available, it is easy to celebrate our histories. We can add or eliminate what we want. 

Even though I can trace my family tree through many generations, my own family never thought of themselves as belonging to a specific background. So as I grew, I was often one to pick and choose. I don't really remember a lot of specific traditions, except for an Easter lamb cake that a favorite aunt would make and bring to our house. It wasn't religious. My religion was always whatever the neighbors were. I think they may have thought it was an obligation to see that I got to church. It must have worked. By the time I was an adult, I had been baptized three times. While I chose the one I thought I wanted to stick with, I've always been referred to as a "convert"

I think it's wonderful how families have specific foods and food traditions for the holidays, but ours was always pretty generic.

I married into an Irish family and have always loved the history and traditions. As I raised my family we took a lot of the music, literature, food, and customs as our own.

My own bloodline is primarily English, with a little bit of French, German, Swiss, Irish, and Scandinavian. I always wanted to be something exotic, but I guess the English bit says a lot about who I am. Anyone for tea?

Lately I have been reading about the Swedish system "Lagom". Some books say that Lagom is the most Swedish word there is. It means "not too little, but not too much". It is also living in harmony, with a steady balance and moderation in all things. It may be a little like Marie Kondo's "spark joy", but it isn't all about simplifying and living with the minimal. It's more about choosing what you need.

I was recently having lunch with a friend and I noticed that she never completely finished her food. Since I've always been a member of The Clean Plate Club, I asked her why she always left part of her meal. She told me she was taught that you should always leave something to show that you had eaten enough, and that plenty of food was served to satisfy you. I had never heard that before, but I thought that must be an example of Lagom. Oh, and she is Swedish.

So once again, I think I am becoming a convert.

I'd love to hear about any family traditions that you have. 

Reading: I am still reading books my Lindsey Davis. I just finished "Pandora's Boy".

APRIL DAYS

 

I spend more hours than I should just wondering where the time goes. I started this post on the last day of March, and here it is the second day of April. How did that happen? It seems like 2026 just started and now we have sailed through the first quarter.

Yesterday was April Fool's Day. I didn't write on Wednesday, so that must be my contribution to the silly jokes, and general tomfoolery. It is a holiday that I don't usually bother with very much. If I can't decorate for it, I guess I don't give it much thought. And more and more, I am confused whenever I listen to the news, whether something is true or not. When I see something on social media, I always need to ask for confirmation. It reminds me of the times many, many years ago when my first husband needed to listen to the radio all night in order to stay asleep. We always listened to the English BBC channel, and I would hear startling or upsetting news and think that I dreamed it. I was probably one of the first people in the States to hear about Princess Diana's death. It was the middle of the night here when I heard the news and I was sure it was a bad dream. There were also many stories about war and conflicts all over the world that we didn't really hear much about on the local news. It's a wonder I could sleep at all.

Something else that I just learned about the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) is that on April 18, 1930, they announced that "There is no news" and just played piano music for the duration of the broadcast! That decision was made because there was nothing of significance that the public needed to hear that day. Can you imagine? And it wasn't even April 1st! Today we have more news than we can handle.

April comes from a Latin word meaning "to open" because it is the time when buds begin to unfurl and flowers open. It's also a time of unpredictable weather. We are having lots of rain, (and some hail), which is quickly turning the grass to a lovely green. It's all seemed very brown when it wasn't snowy. Last week the temperature hit ninety degrees one day and then it snowed. I should just keep a coat in my car. I went out yesterday without one and that was a mistake.

April is National Poetry Month. It began in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets so take a moment to pause and read a poem a day.

April 1-April Fools' Day

April 1-9- Passover

April 5- Easter

April 9- Unicorn Day

April 10- Siblings Day

April 12- Grilled Cheese Day

April 15- Income Tax. Don't forget

April 22- Earth Day

April 24- Arbor Day

April 30- Make Up Your Own Day

"April Showers Bring May Flowers" or "April is the Cruelest Month" Take your pick. 

My "Mail a Letter Every Week is going a little slowly, but I will be sending my first letters tomorrow. Let me know if you would like one.

Reading: THERE WILL BE BODIES by Lindsey Davis. Part of a series of historical fiction about ancient Rome. I am deeply fascinated and hope to read the entire series. The library isn't co-operating so it may take a while.

READING AND WRITING

 I was completely and totally mesmerized by this novel. I started to read it a few nights ago and finished it the next day. (304 pages). It is a book that will stay with me. Basically, it is about a woman in her seventies who has been writing letters to people for most of her life. The book covers the correspondence between 2012 and 2022. There are letters to people she loves and has loved, people she admires, people she is upset with, people she never got along with at all, and people she has never met. She writes to authors to let them know what she thinks of their books. Almost everyone answers her letters. Sometimes a new friendship starts. That's it. The entire book is letters, except for a few emails. I have learned this is called an epistolary. I may have already known that. It is like reading some one's diary, but maybe with permission. Little by little we discover the joys and sorrows and regrets of her life, and our own. There are parts of this book that I really identify with, but most of it is very different than the person I am. I do love the way she organizes her life, and sits at her desk with her favorite pens and paper and beautiful penmanship. She and her dearest friend always close their letters by adding the name of whatever book they are reading.

One of the reasons that I am so taken with this book, is that I recently resolved to start writing letters again. A few weeks ago, I copied a "pledge" to write at least one letter every Sunday. I haven't gotten very far with it yet, but I have hope.

When I was younger, I wrote a lot of letters, and almost always had a penpal. For most of my teen years, I wrote to a girl in India. Her name was Aruna, and we sent each other little gifts. She always wanted me to come visit. And then we both grew up and grew apart. I had another pen friend from the east coast. She was named Faith and seemed to live a life that was much wilder and adventurous than mine. Maybe it was real, but I never knew. She would sneak out of her house at night, and meet up with older boys, and then send me long letters about them. Perhaps she writes steamy novels about them now. I had a lot more in common with Aruna. I had many friends that I kept in touch with through letters for a long time. Now we sometimes email or communicate through Facebook. Not as much as I want to, though. I regret the times I didn't write when I should have.  Now that I have decided to write again, maybe I will be able to do that. I've bought real stationery and may try fountain pens again. And sealing wax. Oh, the possibilities. 

 Not every one of the Moran-Daugherty-Brafford clan was able to get together yesterday to celebrate the High Holy Day of St Patrick, but we had a small yet enthusiastic showing. John and I left early but I'm sure there was some singing going on later in the day. I can say without bragging that my kids know the words to just about every Irish song that was ever written. I've put my Irish music away for awhile, and I'm pretty sure that John is happy about that. Even though he is a lot more Irish than I am, he only knows the basics when it comes to Irish music.

We've celebrated lots of St. Paddy's Days over the years and I'm sure it's a tradition that will keep on going.

We met at Captain Roys, which I'm sure was just about the most festive place in our city. My daughter, Meghan spent weeks making decorations. There were lots of green paper chains, buntings, lights, and shamrocks. 

I tried to show a really good video, but I guess that is beyond my capabilities. So, use your imagination. It was grand, as they would say in the old country.

Well, the holiday is over now, so I will just leave you with one more Irish thought.

"May you always have walls for the wind.

A roof for the rain.

Tea beside the fire.

Laughter to cheer you,

Those you love near you,

And all that your heart might desire"

Wearin' of the Green

 

It's almost time for St. Patrick's Day, which is an American holiday where everyone is Irish. And if you're not, then you should be. St. Paddy's Day was a holy day in Ireland, to honor St. Patrick, who actually wasn't Irish at all. He was originally from Britain and from a wealthy family. As the story goes, he was kidnapped by Irish pirates as a young man and ended up in pagan Ireland. He eventually became a missionary and Bishop in the Christian church. Legend tells us that he used a shamrock to teach the concept of the Trinity. He is also said to be responsible for driving all of the snakes out of Ireland.  He is thought to have died on March 17, in the year 470 or 471. That became his Feast Day. It didn't become a public holiday until 1901. It remained a religious day for many years. The pubs were even kept closed on March 17 until 1970. The first official government sponsored St. Pat's Festival was in 1995 in Dublin. The original purpose was to promote tourism and boost the economy.

There is a very large Irish population in the United States, and most of them love to celebrate this day. It is customary to wear at least a little something green. That will keep you from getting pinched by a leprechaun. It's better to be safe than sorry.

The first Irish parade that was recorded in North America was in New York City in 1762. Irish soldiers in the British army marched to Irish music on March 17 to honor their heritage. Now there are parades on this day all over the world.

In my own family, my children claim to be nearly one hundred percent Irish. That isn't possible since Ancestry.com claims that only  about six percent of my blood is green. The rest they got from their dad. We all know just about every Irish song, so I'm sure that qualifies. And I think every one of us has an Irish sense of humor.

Quiet Down Cobwebs

According to the American Cleaning Institute, National Spring Cleaning Week will be here soon. Always beginning on the fourth Sunday of March, it will start on March 22 and go until March 28. It's almost time to get those feather dusters flying. The word is out that 92% of the population still engages in spring cleaning.

Ritual cleaning has been a part of this time of year for thousands of years. Over three thousand years ago, ancient Persian women called it "shaking the house". Sweeping the dust away and removing clutter was thought to bring good luck. It was also a time for purification. Throughout the ancient world, brooms, brushes, and sea sponges were used to get rid of grime and houses were scrubbed from top to bottom.

Springtime is traditionally a time for renewal. In winter our bodies produce less melatonin (the sleepy hormone). The combination of sunlight and warmer weather make us want to open the windows and freshen things up.

Let's move on from ancient times and look at the nineteenth century. Even though the Victorians didn't invent spring cleaning, they did make it extremely popular. After a winter of coal fires, ashes, oil lamps and woodsmoke, everything in a house needed a good cleaning. It was time to focus on a higher level of detail. Time to brighten up the nooks and crannies, and, in the process, to turn the house topsy turvy. And there were rules. 

Mrs. Beetons Book of Household Management was written in 1861 and it gives us rules for nearly every situation.

"Begin at the top of the house and work down. Move everything out of the room. Scrub the floor. Beat the feather beds and mattresses and replace the curtains."

A place for everything and everything in its' place.

And the Golden Rule: Start at the top and then bottom out the room. Dry rooms were to be done first, and then the wet rooms. There were several opinions on which should done first. Should it be dusting or sweeping and mopping?

Throughout the year schedules have remained fairly consistent to cover all the necessary tasks. Here's one from the 1920's:

Monday-Laundry

Tuesday-Mending and Sewing

Wednesday-Silver, Pantry, Ice Box  "Afternoon Out"

Thursday- (Alternate Weeks) Living Room, Hall Stairs or Dining Room, Hall, Stairs

Friday- Bedrooms, Bath

Saturday- Kitchen, Closet, Ice Box

I like this one. It has an afternoon out and a sewing day!

I still see a lot of embroidered dishtowels in antique shops with "Days of the Week" pictures on them, but I don't think a lot of women keep such rigid housekeeping schedules now. I didn't grow up with disciplined schedules, but my mother-in-law had them. I think she shook her head at my mad-dash ways a lot of the time, but we grew to understand one another. When I was a teenager, I had a friend who could never go anywhere on Saturday mornings because that was the day they rearranged the furniture. Every Saturday morning!

My own version of Spring Cleaning is probably more like Mole's in a favorite children's book. We both work very hard until we get distracted.

The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring- cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. 

The Kindness of Strangers

 I notice a lot of things when watching British mystery tv. Of course everybody drinks a lot of tea. And when the detective interviews someone about a suspect or a victim over a cuppa, the person will almost always say, "I really don't know anything about it. He kept himself to himself." We don't hear that here in the United States, because most people love to talk, especially about themselves and their history. 

I don't usually think of myself as someone who is an oversharer. At least not in person. When it comes to writing, I am much more likely to spill the tea. Does anyone else wonder what that means? Well, I looked it up. I thought it was a new saying, but it has actually been a bit of American slang since the 1980's. It means to tell the truth about something scandalous, dramatic or juicy.

One thing I notice a lot is that people tend to think that no one overhears when they are talking on a cellphone. I am always surprised at the ones who will talk loudly on speakerphone when they are out shopping. Just the other day I felt like I was following a woman at Target because I could hear her conversation from several aisles away. She was telling a friend very intimate details about her divorce and custody hearing and talked the entire time she was in the store.

A few days later I was in the pharmacy, when a man looking at greeting cards shared family stories with a stranger who was also looking at cards. They weren't good stories, and I'm surprised he was actually buying cards for people he disliked so much. Not to be out done, she also had her share of horror stories. Once again, they were very loud, and I could easily hear them from several aisles away.

Now if you are starting to get the idea that I am just a creepy eavesdropper sort of person, I'm really not. Anyway, not most of the time. For the sake of clarity, I will admit that during the time when I was alone and lonely I used to deliberately listen to old married couples in restaurants. More than once I fought off the urge to go to their tables and tell them to be nicer to each other.

There are also people who want to share happy times. There is a cashier I see in another store who tells everyone the story of how his parents met. He enjoys it every time he repeats it, and I try to take the time to listen.

Sometimes it is easier to share things with strangers than with those we know. When I was going through sadness and misery, I remember more than one occasion when I cried with women who were there for me in the very worst moments, but I never saw them again. I will always think of them as my angels and remember the kindness they gave me when I desperately needed it.

It is a good thing to share connections and experiences with other people. Let's just try not to do it loudly and publicly.

Bright and Balanced

I have a "collection" of articles and journal thoughts that I have written over the years. Sometimes I go through them when I am looking for ideas. A lot of them were first written over twenty five years ago (and more) when my life was much busier and more complicated. Now they are out of date and have to be modified a bit if I want to use them. An example is my article about my first new cell phone. Most of my writings during those busy years was about organizing, procrastinating, housekeeping, families, holidays, and keeping everything in balance. I guess I still like to write about a lot of those subjects, but my perspective is a lot different now. My opinions are still probably about the same.

A favorite article was about balance. It was inspired by a visit to a coffee shop with a friend. This was so long ago that the offerings were just plain old coffee instead of all the fancy concoctions that we see now. The pots were labeled with the flavor and descriptions. The first one I saw was Vivid and Vibrant. It sounded exciting and mysterious. My friend went right to the brew labeled Rich and Robust. We had just been discussing finances and health, so I thought that was a perfect choice for her. After a little thought, I decided on Bright and Balanced.

Balance has always been one of my favorite words. I have a tendency towards balance in whatever I do. I never want too much of one thing or not enough of another. I've always felt more even when there is balance in my life. 

But, I have learned that it isn't always easy to keep that balance. Sometimes, our lives just get too busy. I have found myself going in too many directions at once and trying to accomplish too much. These are the times when we feel like we are trying to juggle bricks and feathers. No matter what we do it is hard to keep our lives at an even keel.

For me there are some classic hints when things begin to tip too far in one direction. Does this sound familiar? Are you suddenly missing appointments even when you've written them down? Or have you stopped writing things down, and just trust your memory? I can never do that. A few days ago, I completely forgot an afternoon with my crafting group that I had really been looking forward to. I hadn't done much of anything for several weeks because of my dreaded battle with shingles. They all had a lovely time without me but did make a darling bird's nest on a spring for me. I didn't get to have any of the treats though. I heard it was a very fancy tea party.

Perhaps you've noticed that you are misplacing your keys, or locking them in your car. If so, that is a sure sign that your life has gotten too complicated and out of balance. Take a deep breath, now e-x-h-a-l-e, and decide what you can eliminate.

When you add something new to your life, do you also give up something? Or do you keep squeezing in one more thing, one more appointment, one more event? Of course you do. We all want it all, and we want it all right now. Unfortunately, that isn't what we usually get.

Instead we may get tired and discouraged, because we are trying to handle too many things at once. If this sounds familiar, then it's time to start putting balance back into your life. Get some extra keys made and keep copies of your passwords and card numbers where you can get to them. I like to disguise them as phone numbers in my address book.

My life is so simple and uncomplicated now compared to how it used to be. I sometimes wonder if feeling unbalanced is because we are getting older and not because we are too busy. I'm not even going to mention that someone who shall remain nameless forgot to change from his slippers to his shoes when we went out to dinner a few nights ago. I might be getting punished for sharing that. I just lost half of this post when I tried to publish it and had to write it again. It may be too late for me to be Vivid and Vibrant.