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.

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. 

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. 

A LITTLE BIT OF THIS, A LITTLE BIT OF THAT

I am still recovering from my bout of shingles, so the brain fog continues. Last Friday I handed someone a tape measure when she asked for a camera, and I am blaming that on the medications.  It's been a mixture of good days and days of napping. And that's all I have to say about that.

January is one of my main months of making plans and getting myself organized in my house and in my head. I usually start out with at least a few resolutions and always try to pick a "word of the year". I really haven't thought about it much this month, but here is what I came up with:

  1. Lose weight. My husband has lost more than 30 pounds this year just by deciding he would. I have lost the same 4 pounds about 30 times.

  2. Exercise more. That should be easy, since I have hardly moved at all so far in 2026.

   3. Find the lost things that keep wandering about and that I keep wondering about.

4.  Spend some more time working on my writing. I really want to have a book of essays.

   5. Finally, get all of Christmas put away and organized into the correct boxes. 

I think that might be a To Do List and not resolutions!

Next is my Word of the Year. This year it is a phrase: "Creative Forager".

There is a reason. I want to spend more time creating and I really mean to look through and use so many of my supplies without buying a lot of new things. I really want to let the things go that I don't need.

It's that time of year.  And I may be just a little bit late!

Another New Year...What Will It Bring?

I keep this card in a frame where I can see it everyday. It reminds me of all the things I want. Wishes and Magic and Dreams and Good Madness. Books and Kisses and Surprises!

This holiday season did not turn out the way I planned. I spent most of it being sick. Our family Christmases were after the main event so I had marked off that last week to finish shopping, and wrapping, and making everything Christmasy. I started to make several gifts this year, and they were all in the finishing stages too. And I felt so awful I didn't even care (not too much, anyway). So I would really like a do-over. I did get to see everyone. I was not contagious. And of course, one side of the family forgot to take pictures. I'm not sure why that happens, but we hardly ever get a group photo. Next time.

 

It is New Year's Eve now that I write this and I don't think I will be awake to see the new year arrive. I haven't written any resolutions or even chosen my word of the year yet. I often try to do a card reading on December 31st, but that will have to wait too. I am on the mend, so I will soon be feeling like myself again, but not yet. Hoping you are all celebrating and that 2026 will be the year we all all hoping for, filled with love, happiness, and good magic. Happiest of New Years to us all.

Wedded Bliss

 

October 12 will be our sixth wedding anniversary. It's hard to believe that we have been married that long. I still think of us as newlyweds. Crazy young kids. Even though at our age, we should be counting every year as ten. That would make this our sixtieth. How time flies. We've decided to take a few days and celebrate in Galena, since it's such a cute little town and only a few hours away. We spent our original honeymoon in Laramie, even though that wasn't our plan. Our car (practically new) broke down, and so we spent most of our time either driving or being stranded or waiting around in dealerships. It wasn't the best way to start a marriage but we managed to survive it. Our trip was cut short, and we drove our loaner car home and returned in mid-December when ours was finally fixed. This was my first hint that John isn't a great traveler. One of my favorite places in Laramie was a bookstore called "The Second Story". It was upstairs in a building originally used as a brothel back in the wild, wild west. There were lots of little rooms.

The name may just sound familiar since it is what I call my writings. It seemed very fitting since this is the second story of our lives. It was also the name that I gave to my little she-shed cottage. Sadly, I had to leave it when we moved. My cottage and the front porch are the only things I really miss about our first house.

I have a very nice book of wedding photographs, but since it is the middle of the night and I should be packing for tomorrow I don't have much to show. 

Getting married for a second time is very different than the first. Jim and I were very young even though we didn't think so at the time. We were both barely nineteen. Keeping a home and a marriage were both very new to us and we learned together. We were married for almost forty-three years. After that I was on my own for nine years. I became very independent with my time and money. I got used to never telling anyone where I was going or when I would be back. I hadn't dated anyone until I started seeing John. I think we were both surprised that we fit so well together. And we were also surprised that we could love someone again. Every day I am grateful that he came into my life.

Usually, I don't spend a lot of time thinking about what I want to write. I just write from my heart. (I hear that a lot on cooking shows. "Just measure from your heart". It makes me laugh.) This time I really spent some time thinking about it. I asked John what he felt was different about a second marriage and what changes he had to make. He couldn't come up with a single thing. Of course, I had a very long list. Most of them are minor and not very important, but they were still changes in my life. When a person has lived many years as an adult, she becomes accustomed to doing things a certain particular way. And then she marries someone who is also used to doing things his own way. Most of these are not very important at all. They are just things I've noticed along the way. 

When we got married in 2019 I moved into the house where John had been happily living for over thirty years. It was a nice place but it never felt like mine. I always said he had the home court advantage because he had lived there so long. Two years ago, we moved to our house. It's the right home for us.

Here are some of the things that we never really think about because we have always done them our own way. One person has to change. I'm pretty sure it is usually the woman.

How do you make the bed?

What brand names do you buy?

How do you cook certain foods?

Are you a cuddler or do you like to sew and work on craft projects while you watch tv?

What kind of tv shows do you watch?

Do you like to be early or are you always late?

Do you stock up or wait until you are almost out of whatever?

What are your politics?

How do you put the toilet paper roll on the holder?

Which side of the bed do you sleep on?

Do you like to read yourself to sleep?

Do you go to bed early or late?

I'm not saying these are problems! We just don't usually think about why we do things the way that we do. It is hard to change after so many years of being a certain way. And so, we have our own bathrooms and never talk about politics. I am very happy with my Second Story. And I am wishing for many more anniversaries together.

MIDNIGHT MUSINGS

 

Happy September. This is the first of the autumn months that rhyme with Remember. For many of us, it is a favorite month, and also a month of contrasts. Some of my happiest memories are in Septembers, and also some of my worst.  Tonight, I have been going a little wonky looking for a specific computer file and bringing up just about every memory I have kept for the last many, many years. My trips down memory lane are always a little on the melancholy side. I don't really like to relive old memories and peruse forgotten photos. I know that isn't a popular thing to say, and I feel guilty for even thinking it, but it makes me feel sad. I have a wonderful life and I try to enjoy every minute of it, but when I look back, I always go into "woulda, coulda, shoulda" mode. I think I feel like everything goes too quickly. When I look at old pictures or read essays I wrote years ago, I wonder where the time went, and why I didn't get more done. I need to make a September resolution to count the things I've accomplished, and not just the projects and ideas that fizzled.  

I have accomplished one big (for me) thing so far this month. My recent blog post about my old house is in a new local newspaper called "The Highland Scribe". It is published monthly, and 5,000 copies are delivered to businesses on the north side of the city. It has space for ads, and articles about local businesses, but also asks for creative contributions. My goal is to have articles published more frequently and in other venues. This was something that I wanted to do in the past, but never followed through with it. I am particularly excited that my blog address is included.

And I admit that I am tickled to be called Local Author!

Mystery of the Poppy Plates

We have lived here for nearly two years. One would think that everything would be in its' place by now, but that wouldn't be true. Since I don't want to have every wall covered, many of them are still a little too bare. That isn't the way of the sun room, since it is mostly windows. There are very few walls, so I must be selective. 

I have always liked this picture, so I was happy to find a place where it fit. It's a print of an oil painting by a self taught German painter named Max Streckenbach (1865-1936) who specialized in floral still lifes. This one is called "Poppies in Vase". He painted another one that looks like the same poppies. That one is named "Poppies in Bloom". Since I didn't want my picture to feel lonely, I wanted to add a few other items I've acquired along the way, specifically two hand painted plates and a few postcards. Since I didn't have a place for them, I put them away for later. I will repeat that. I put them away for later.

Eventually, I bought a vintage shelf that John hung on the other side of the doorway. I went to get the plates because I thought I knew exactly where I had stored them. And they were not there. So the search began. I looked in all the drawers and spaces that I thought they could be. Every little box and basket around the house... The two shelves in the front hall closet... The linen closet... The laundry room cupboards...The extra boxes in the sewing room... The office closet... Then I went to the basement. I tried the storage room. And then I looked through the holiday boxes in the furnace room. I have to admit that I was on a mission, and not about to be defeated.

Finally, today I found them. For some reason, I hadn't opened the little desk right below the picture. I did open the drawer, but not the desk. I had set them in two of the little cubbies because it was the most logical place. Now they are finally on the little green shelf across the wall. And I am happy to report that I did not have to purchase more old poppy plates from the local antique mall. In desperation, I had started to look.

Unfortunately, during my poppy plate quest, I didn't find any of the other items that are still missing. I have a complete tea set, with cups and saucers for four. Somewhere. I hope to find it before next March, since it is decorated with shamrocks. I have some more framed pictures. There are various craft supplies. I know I have another antique quilt. Somewhere. There was a long hunt for my trifle bowl. I finally found two. I won't even mention the books that have gone awol. 

I blame all this on moving so many times in the past several years. A couple of moves ago, I finally started a little notebook titled "Oh, Wherever Can It Be?" I try to list all the cupboards and drawers and boxes where I might have put things. It isn't always up to date but it really helps me (sometimes) when I'm looking for something. I hadn't listed the poppy plates. That would have saved a lot of time. Live and Learn.

An Old House Journal

Which house is the one with the most memories? Is it our first house or the one where we lived the longest? Is it the house where we were happiest? Or possibly the one where we raised our children?  

This was the house my family lived in for over twenty-seven years. When we moved here in September of 1978, our oldest child was nine. His sisters were seven, four, and two. Approximately. Someone was always having a birthday. The next September, we added our last baby. He always thought the house belonged exclusively to him, since he was born here. This was the perfect house to raise a family. We had over four acres and were in the country, but also within walking distance of a Casey's convenience store. There was a nature preserve over the hill and behind the house, so it always felt very private. Our first house had been on a busy street, so this seemed like a miracle.

Although the area was perfect, the house wasn't. It was an old farmhouse, and it needed some work. The first thing we did was an addition upstairs. The house quickly went from two bedrooms to five, and we added another bath. 

I first saw the house when I was in my early teens. My friend's grandparents lived there and her family lived next door. Her dad was born there. We were never quite sure when it was built. Old newspaper insulation in the attic was dated 1884. Most people settled on 1893 as the correct date, so it was at least 133 years old now. We think it was the oldest house in the area. Rooms had been rearranged and changed a lot over the years. 

We started a remodeling that lasted all of my children's growing up years. They thought it was perfectly normal to have plastic hung over all the doorways to keep out the plaster dust from the old lath and plaster walls. The first winter one of the beds was covered in white every time it snowed. Often it was so cold upstairs in the winter that everyone raced to get out of bed in the mornings and claim one of the floor registers downstairs. Lots of new windows and insulation helped, but it was always cold. It was a house of too many doorways and windows, and many small rooms. It also had a lot of charm and we loved living there and changing it so it suited us. I still miss all the shelves and bookcases Jim built into almost every room.

There were more outbuildings than we needed. Especially after my husband had to build the new garage to house the 1950 John Deere B tractor that he surprised me with for my 50th birthday. Anyone who knows me will realize I am not a tractor kind of girl, so it didn't take much to realize that it was really a present for him. He loved taking care of it and giving the grandbabies rides around the yard. I actually got my first trip to England because of that tractor, so it worked out well for both of us!

My favorite little building was the old milk shed. I had a cottage herb business for a few years when the kids were young, and that became my workshop. I grew many of my herbs and flowers and made wreaths, arrangements and potpourris. I had walls of shelves filled with gallon jars of dried herbs. Those years were happy times, until allergies to oils and plants ended that career.

                                                                              

When our children were grown, it became too big for the two of us. Jim didn't enjoy mowing all those acres as much as he used to, and we no longer needed five bedrooms. He said I would just fill all the empty spaces with "stuff", so we decided to downsize. 

The couple who bought the house lived there for several years without changing much at all. When they listed it for sale, I walked through it, and was surprised at how little it had changed. The wallpaper I loved was still on the sunporch walls. Friends had often teased me because I kept it for many years and never got tired of it. I would still have it again if I could. Seeing my old house looking the same was such a shock, because my life had changed so much. I had lost the son who was born there, and then his father. I moved and changed jobs several times, and then married my wonderful John and moved two more times!

The current owners have lived there three years and made many changes of their own. A few months ago they decided to sell it and I walked through at another open house. This time was a real surprise as many walls had been opened up, and everything had a very modern feel. Beautifully decorated, but it was no longer the home I remembered. There were more changes in store, as the young family decided to stay, and to rebuild.  As I've said before, the location is perfect. They have a darling baby, several horses, cows, dogs, and chickens, and the land is well used. Construction will start soon. Last week all the outbuildings and many trees were taken down. Today the house was leveled. So much of my history was in that house. But they are making their own history now and I wish them well.

(I don't know how many times they filled this dumpster, but all that is left tonight is a small pile of rubble)

Seventy Six

 

I celebrated another birthday yesterday. I received this cute little red velvet cake in the mail. It is cake for one (but I will share) and even came with a candle. It was a good day but on the quiet side. I did a little shopping and went to the thrift stores everyone seems to love lately. We were going to go out, but both decided to order a pizza instead.

I am really a pretty quiet person. I like to stay home. I can go days and days without leaving my house. Last week I had to be social four days in a row. I went to a funeral, a family reunion, a birthday dinner, and a long lunch with friends. That might not sound like a lot, but it was. Except for my cousin's funeral, they were all enjoyable occasions, but still wearing. Does this mean I am old? As a friend says, anything over seventy-five is almost eighty. And I am getting a lot more Facebook ads for wrinkle cream.

It really doesn't seem like almost a year since I wrote "Seventy five at Seventy Five." I just read it again, and I hope you will too. Parts of it make me feel pretty profound.

76. Make sure to actually do more of the things on my list this year.

Daily Joys and An Anniversary

As I was idly looking through past blog posts, I started reading them all. When I got back to the beginning I realized that this is my anniversary month. I started my blog in June, 2005. It was first called "The Victorian Gypsy". Twenty years ago!!! Sometimes I feel that maybe I am still writing about the same things. And then I realize that of course I am, because these are the words of my life. I've talked about things I like to do, things I like to see, things I like to make, people I have loved, houses where I've lived, and moments that broke my heart.

I keep coming back to the same stories, hopefully with a new twist. I am always looking for ways to be more organized. I always like to decorate my house with items that have a history or are handmade. I only like recipes that are quick and easy. I still procrastinate. I enjoy traveling and reliving my trips through photos. I also like to make lists, and keep notes that don't always make sense when I read them later.

There were lots of times when I didn't write. I had moments of deep grief when it was all I could do to keep going through the fog. I can see those times in the blank spaces, but I didn't want to write about them here. I need to write, but I didn't always want to share.

Before I started blogging, I had a group on Yahoo called "Living With Intention" or "IntentionalWoman". It never had a big following, but I had big plans. This was during a much busier time in my life, when I expected every day to have a happy ending. It looks like my head was full of the same stories as now! Here are a few excerpts from those writings. They were many years ago but are still relevant:

"I am concentrating right now on decluttering--my life and my head. I read that it is very important to list your complaints and clear out what you don't want. This helps us to see the things that we do want. Then list the five things that are most important to you. Make these your daily joys and try to do something every day that relates to these five.

Are you making time for these five things? I discovered that I am consistently putting the most important items at the bottom of my list--just because I think I will have time to do them eventually"

"Think of all the years passed by in which you said to yourself "I'll do it tomorrow," And how the gods have again and again granted you periods of grace of which you have not availed yourself.                                  It is time to realize that you are a member of the Universe, that you are born of Nature itself, and to know that a limit has been set to your time. Use every moment wisely, to perceive your inner refulgence, or 'twill be gone and nevermore within  your reach."          --Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor 161-180AD)

Perhaps this quote from his Meditations sounds a bit dark, but that is not my purpose. There seem to be a lot of books and articles lately about slowing down, taking time for your life and doing the things that really matter. After years of thinking that maybe there is something wrong with us if we can't do it all, and that we should feel guilty when we take time for ourselves, suddenly it is okay to examine our lives and concentrate on the things and people that really matter. This is good. But, it is hard to do. Some days our lives are just a series of loose ends and minor annoyances, and no matter what we do, we haven't made a difference. That's why I am trying to remind myself of my own Daily Joys--they make me glad that I am here today and that I am heading in the right direction. As a culture, we don't like to believe that our time on earth is limited, even though we are conditioned to think that we never have enough time and that we are always rushed and overscheduled. Being busy and overworked and overwhelmed makes people feel validated. We think that we are the only ones who can do our work correctly. And that is not good.

How many of us are living for tomorrow? As I look around my home and office, I see so many projects, some unstarted, many unfinished. How much time do I really think I will have to do all those wonderful crafts and quilts, collages, and dolls? When will I write the best seller that surely lives within me somewhere? Sometimes it is so hard to be realistic about the way to spend time, because the process can be as involving as the project. When I am living for tomorrow I just keep starting new things, without the joy of completion, because I am counting on having those "periods of grace"

 

 I have been on a diet or thinking about being on a diet for most of my life. Every day I start out making healthy food choices. But it usually doesn't last too long.

When I was very young, we moved next door to my nemesis family. They were all very tiny, delicate people, and constantly made me feel like a giant. In fact, my nickname became "Hippo". I'm not sure why, but that's what "BooBoo" called me. Now with a name like BooBoo, one wouldn't think he would have a lot to say about anyone, but he did. And I was crushed, from a very early age. By the time I was twelve, I had lost some of the baby fat, (with the help of my mother's diet pills!) and I went into the seventh grade without the ugly duckling image I had for so long. During my high school years and throughout my twenties and thirties I hardly ate. I was very careful. I seldom had dessert, and could make an Andes mint last a whole afternoon by taking teeny, tiny bites. I never felt thin, even though I must have been.

I went through all five pregnancies when doctors were advocating weight gains of less than twenty pounds. With one baby I only gained fourteen.

And then one day, I decided I'd suffered enough. I started eating dessert and never shared a mint again. And you can guess what happened.

I have been reading diet books forever. In fact, the first one I ever bought was called "How to Lose the Last 5 Pounds". I especially like to read diet books while I eat.

I've lost weight many times, but never as much as I wanted to lose. I was a regular at Weight Watchers for a while. More than once. I've tried the soup diet, the liquid protein diet, Jenny Craig, the protein shakes diet, the low carb and no carb, keto, south beach, egg and grapefruit, intermittent fasting, and more that I don't remember. I even buy Women's World magazines just to read the weekly diets. High protein, low carb seems to be the thing. I get lazy with anything I have to count, such as carbs, micros, macros, fats, and ounces of water.

I think I know what works for me, and I am trying to start it all again. If only I could follow the diet rules. I am sure there is some secret formula that I haven't learned. I'm reading a new book, and it stresses the right attitude. I think that may be where I'm a little low.

John has more willpower than most. I call him One Cookie John. He can actually eat one small cookie and be satisfied. Who does that?

He just informed me that he is on a diet. He will cut down, weigh himself a lot, and the pounds will fall off. Just like that. And I will probably eat the rest of the cookies by myself.

Weekly On Wednesday

Recently, I have been trying to put my life into a notebook. I feel like I need to have it written out, so that I can just look things up. The things I need to do, want to do, forgot to do, and will never do. Do other people get this feeling, or am I living just a little bit on the wonky side of life?

There was a time that I did many things. I raised five perfect children. I was the Queen of the Carpools. I kept everyone's schedules in my head and in my planner, and mostly got them all where they needed to be. I had a job that I loved. I made and sold creative things. I volunteered. I wasn't much of a cook, but I kept them all fed. Most of that was my husband's department. After all, we owned a restaurant. No one starved.

Now I have lots of time, and less to do. I feel like I am frittering it away because I don't know where the time goes. I just know that it goes much too quickly. That's why I'm working on the (book!) notebook. Throughout my life, I have kept several notebooks and journals, but purely in a disorganized, mismanaged way. Now I am going through these notebooks, and trying to make them all more coherent.  It may not happen as I plan. I have noticed that my thoughts haven't changed a lot in half a century of writing. I'm not sure if that is good or bad. I like the same things and I have the same faults and values. I am basically the same as I was as a young woman, except on the outside. (And that's another story.)

And that is one of the reasons I am going through all the writings. I  have mentioned before that I like to follow rules. But I have discovered that I am really not too good at following routines. When a routine changes, either for the better or the worst, everything falls apart. And then I need to make a new routine.

 I knew right where things were in the last six houses that I lived in. I love to label things and put them where they belong. In my favorite house I had the best cupboard ever. I bought it at an auction and it had 119 drawers. Unfortunately, it was too big for the room. We had to modify it into two pieces with shelves at the ends. And then we had it built in so I couldn't take it when I moved. That was supposed to be my forever home, but I have moved four times since then. I will always miss that house. I had over 300 drawers and several bookcases. I felt very organized.

John and I moved more than a year ago. We plan to be here until we are even more old and feeble. I love this house. It is a good place for us. We downsized a lot, which was a good plan. However, I am still looking for things. I used to know exactly where my Irish tea set was. And the battery charger to my dremel craft tool. And my spare set of car keys. And the notebook that listed what was in all my little drawers and boxes.  And all of my craft supplies. But now, there is chaos. Our lives have slowed down a lot but the days haven't and every day ends before I feel that I have conquered that chaos.

I still have a few of my labeled drawers. One is metal and I know John doesn't like it. But I think it's charming in an industrial sort of way.

Most of my things are in small boxes and drawers now, and I spend way too much time trying to find what I need. 

My dream is still to find the perfect cupboard again even though I know my dream should be to get rid of the things I like to put into drawers.

APRIL SHOWERS

I live in an area where winter drags along for months and months, and we still experience an April blizzard every few years. I never find myself rushing into springtime. We turn the furnace off and on again a few times before we are ready to open the windows and enjoy the weather. But now the daffodils are blooming, and the flowering trees and bushes are everywhere. I think it just might be safe now, even though we had a dusting of snow last week.

It's been said that Spring is nature's way of saying, "Just one more time". This is the time for change and renewal, so I thought I would list a few ways to celebrate the season.

Go outside. Renew your acquaintances with the neighbors. Take a walk in the park. Play on the swings. Fly a kite. Hit some golf balls. Find a five year old to help you.

Visit a garden center. Mulch. Buy seeds. Plant vegetables. Plan a kitchen garden. Start a small herb garden. Buy some plants and put them in unusual containers. Just about anything can work, if you can put a drainage hole in it. Old decorative tins, pottery, mixing bowls, wooden boxes, broken chairs, leather pocketbooks and shoes are just a few containers. Try to stop yourself before you are putting geraniums in old plumbing fixtures.

Put your house up for sale. If that's a little drastic, then just pretend that you are going to move. Visit some Open Houses in your area and get new decorating ideas. Clean a closet. Give things away. Have a garage sale. Consider renting a space or a display case in a consignment mall or flea market. Many places will rent space for just a few months.

Start a fitness program--Every year it surprises and scares me when I realize that I can't keep wearing jackets and sweaters every day. Enroll in an exercise class, or start walking. And, no, it is never too late.

Go and do something just for yourself. Buy a fabulous spring bouquet. Have a department store makeover. Read a book out on the deck. Eat Girl Scout cookies.

I'd love to say that I do all these suggestions. Last year I put my herbs in an old tin bucket, and didn't add any drainage holes because it already looked pretty holey. It wasn't enough, and they only lasted half the season. Do as I say, not as I didn't.

It was our first spring and summer since we moved. It was exciting to see what flowers we had here at our new to us house. And now this year, we will know what to add. I am hoping that we have lilacs. Absolutely there will be zinnias. I love the bright colors and being able to cut them to bring inside. And marigolds need to go somewhere. We would like to add more rosebushes. We don't have a vegetable garden anymore. We just rely on the local farmers' market. One of our neighbors is a most prolific gardener, and is already spending hours outside every day. I'm hoping to get to know her better this year.

APRIL

The roofs are shining from the rain.

 The sparrows twitter as they fly,

 And with a windy April grace 

The little clouds go by. 

Yet the back-yards are bare and brown 

With only one unchanging tree— 

I could not be so sure of Spring 

Save that it sings in me.

 -- Sara Teasdale

 

 

NECESSARY FRIENDSHIPS

Make new friends, but keep the old. One is Silver and the other is Gold

People come into our lives

for a reason, or a season. We will all have a lot of friendships that don't last, and a few that we treasure throughout our lives.

Friendships come in all shapes, ages, and sizes. Some of my very dearest friends are more than twenty years older or younger

 than I am. I recently lost a lovely lady who was always a role model to me. I've often thought of her as the person I wanted to be when I grow up. I admired her style, and grace, and the way she treated people. She was a young 97 when she left us. I know she will be missed by many.

There are necessary friends. And there are friends of convenience.

To a child, every day can bring an opportunity to find a new best friend. Requirements are simple. Spending time together and "playing nice" are usually the only rules. Quickly, without even thinking about it--who was your first best friend? Do you remember why you chose each other, and how important that friendship was? Think about the secrets she shared, and the secrets you told. Did that friendship last, and do you know where he or she is today?

Eventually, we all grow up, and find we can have more than one best friend.

We have the friends that remember us as we were when we were young. This can have a disadvantage when they refuse to believe that one is no longer the fat, yet gawky girl with no self confidence and no particular talent. It can also be a comfort, when we don't have to explain our feelings or our motives to these friends, because they have know us almost as long as we've been here on earth. I have a group of friends that I feel like I have known forever. We usually only see each other once a month, but the camaraderie  we share has never changed.

Sometimes we are attracted to friendships with people just because they are different than we are. It is good to experience the way a different culture or economic level thinks and lives.

Neighbors and other parents can become our friends. New mothers often go through a time when they feel that there is no one to talk to that understands their feelings. This is the time to find a lifeline in a mother's group, or a book club. Our crafting group began when our children were babies, and it is still going strong nearly fifty years later! It is imperative to have some contact with other moms, so that you can reassure yourself that you are doing the right thing, and that there is more than one right thing to do.

There are school friends and work friends. Sometimes we can share the deepest and most private details of our daily lives with our work friends. Often, once we change departments or companies, those friendships can disappear. They have served their purpose. Other times these will become forever friends.

There are the kindred spirits. Kindred spirits are my favorite friends These are the people you meet and you know immediately that they will have a place in your life and in your heart forever. They are the friends who will support you, even when they don't agree with you. They laugh with you and they cry when you need to cry.

There are friends you can travel with. And there are also friends that you can't. Usually, before you take a trip with a friend, it is a good idea to talk about the basics. Does she get up before the sun, and does she understand your need for coffee first thing in the morning? For me, being flexible is one of the most important qualities. I have a few friends who are perfect as traveling companions. We always have a good time, no matter what happens.

When a woman's children have grown up, and she is no longer involved in school activities, or has retired, she may suddenly find herself without a close circle of friends again. This may be the time to join a group or a guild and find other women with that need for friendship. 

Some women I have known say that their husband or their daughter is their best friend. I never believed them when I was younger. There is a possibility I was wrong, but I still think we all need other friends.

I have been lucky in my friendships. But, perhaps luck shouldn't be enough. It is too easy to take a friend for granted. Today is a good time to make a new friend or renew a friendship.  I have a couple of women in mind. Join me as I make a call, send a note, or meet a friend for lunch.

 

LIFE RULES

 

Many years ago, when my five children were growing up, and our house was in happy chaos, I heard the words "It's not fair" several times a day. Whether it was about who got the biggest treat, who went to bed first, or whose turn it was to wash the dishes, nothing was fair in their world. And my all purpose answer was always that it wasn't fair but it evens out.

Recently our world has been hit by too many things that make us want to shake our fists in the air and shout--"It isn't fair"--. War, protests, accidents, natural disasters, so many things that don't seem to have a reason. I like to know a reason for everything. I like rules. I like the fact of cause and result. Here are a few of the things that help me. These are the LifeRules that I am working toward. I don't always remember them, but when I do, they give my life a little more meaning and balance.

I believe we need to be generous.  Many times I've noticed that what we give comes back to us in many ways. Always be willing to share what you have. Be generous with your time, with your money, and with yourself.

Do you know someone who just seems to be lucky? I have a couple of friends who are. I can count on them to be the winners at raffles and lotteries, to get the best seats, and to always have things given to them. I admit that sometimes I feel a little jealous and get a bad case of the Poor Me's and feel that life isn't fair. Yes, I have been known to whine. Over time, I have noticed that these lucky women are always giving. They think about others and are there with help, and gifts, and acts of kindness. And this generosity finds it way back to them again and again.

I believe we need to be grateful. Appreciate what you have, both the big and the small. Try to remember to take time to notice the miracles that surround us. The more you look, the more you will find. 

And I believe we need to be prepared.  We never know what the future holds. The only certainty about life is its' uncertainness. Have a plan, both for your day, and your future. Do you know what important things you would need in an emergency? Do you have the necessary supplies? Do you know what really matters to you and why? Take some time, take stock, and think about where you are going in life and what you need.

Life isn't fair, but it evens out. Remember that, because it keeps us traveling in the direction that we need to be moving.  

2025 ADDENDUM:  

Recently I have been sorting through some of my old writings. They are musings I wrote after I got my first computer, and years before I started a blog. Although many seem outdated now, I am dusting them off and posting them here on The Second Story. I am planning to put them all together for that elusive book I sometimes talk about. (It will at least be organized for my children.)I wrote this over twenty years ago. It is still relevant to our world today. There were many times that I no longer believed that life evens out. For a time, I completely lost my faith in fairness, but now I am holding firmly onto it again.

“Life is amazing. And then it's awful. And then it's amazing again. And in between the amazing and awful it's ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That's just living: heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it's breathtakingly beautiful.”      ― L.R. Knost

                                    

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