Thursday Thoughts: Wednesday Edition

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Wednesday Edition
I’m doing my Thoughts on Wednesday instead of Thursday, because on Thursday we’ll be on the road and I will be featuring a guest blog.

Rassling a Bear
Jll is traveling with her mother and sister, and will be gone for something in the neighborhood of two weeks. As a result, Dave is playing both Mr. Mom and Mr. Dad, and they have enlisted the help of the grandparents. Since we left this morning to head to AZ for a few weeks, I have helped out on the early end of the trip, at least for a couple of days. As such, I have gotten a sense of just how busy their schedules are. Girl scouts for Maggie Faith, Lego Robotics for Dagny. Don’t forget to make sure they have packed necessary lunches and snacks. Don’t forget Dagny’s saxophone for band practice. Addie and Alastair have their share of activities as well (volleyball, play practice, soccer games), but they are independent enough to mostly take care of themselves. Yesterday morning after Alastair and Addie had left for school, I sent Dagny and Maggie upstairs to get dressed, comb their hair, and brush their teeth. It all happened, but at one point it sounded like they were wrestling a bear. Thumps and screams, laughter and whines. But I got them in my yellow bug and safely to school on time.

Not on My Watch
One thing I’m always afraid of is that one of the grands will get injured under my care. So when I answered my telephone yesterday afternoon and it was from the Dagny and Maggie’s school, my heart sank. What now? Thankfully, it was not anything too serious. Dagny (and of course it would be Dagny) was walking home from a field trip she took with her class to the nearby high school. A group of her friends stopped at our neighborhood park to unearth a wrist watch that one of the girls had buried a month earlier. You can’t make this stuff up when it comes to 10-year-olds. Anyway, Dagny was pitching in, and forgetting that she was under playground equipment, stood up and jammed her head into something sharp. It apparently bled a bit (hence, the telephone call), but by time I got there, it had stopped bleeding and it was easy to see that it wasn’t a serious cut. Still, it warranted getting out of school 45 minutes early and being the first to sample Nana’s homemade chocolate chip cookies.

The Clampetts
When we got to AZ at this point, we drive Bill’s car. We leave it there, and fly home for the holidays. Since we leave the car there, this is the time for us to pack the car up with all of the oversized things that we deem necessary for the winter. It also requires us to plan ahead in the way of clothes. We are pretty much done with summer clothes here in Colorado, so we both pack our lightweight clothes and take them with us, leaving them there when we return home in November. The whole process requires us to think ahead. For example, Bill needs to remember things like tax information and anything he might need for legal work that comes up while we are there. As I always remind myself, as long as we have our necessities like medications, there’s nothing we can’t buy there. Now I’ve jinxed myself and we’ll forget our meds.

Nobody But Me
I just purchased the newest release from crooner Michael Buble – Nobody But Me. Man oh man, do I ever love every single song on that album (can you still call them albums?). I think his voice is amazing, and I really like when he sings some of the old “Rat Pack” type songs. In fact, I like his version of On an Evening in Roma even more than Dean Martin’s, and that’s saying a lot. He performs one song with one of my favorite newer artists – Meghan Trainor – and it’s also exceptionally good. I’m getting no kickback from ol’ Michael for this pitch, but I can’t recommend the album strongly enough. Great music. You’re welcome, Mr. Buble.

Ciao.

25Oct2016

Hard to Be Humble

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Oh Lord it’s hard to be humble
When you’re perfect in every way.
I can’t wait to look in the mirror
Cause I get better looking each day
To know me is to love me
I must be a hell of a man.
O Lord it’s hard to be humble
But I’m doing the best that I can. – Mac Davis

Six months or so ago, I wrote a blog post entitled Humble and Kind, inspired by the poignant song sung by country artist Tim McGraw. If you read this blog post, you know that my parents instilled the importance of humility in all of their kids.

You’re no better than anyone else, and no one else is better than you I heard my mother say on many occasions. I think this message really took hold in all of us.

Since the theme of last weekend’s Mass readings was humility, I thought about all of this once again as I listened to Jesus’ story about the Pharisee and the tax collector. The Pharisee bragged about what an exceptional person he was. He tithed. He fasted. He wasn’t greedy and unholy in the ways of many others. At the same time, the tax collector beat his breast and begged for God’s forgiveness for all of his sins. I am not worthy, he said.

Yep, I thought. I have lots of faults, but I’m certainly not like that nasty Pharisee. I am really tremendously humble.

And then I saw the irony in that notion. I’m prideful of just how humble I am. Oops. Disconnect.

Because the reality is that though on an intellectual level, I know I’m no better than anyone else, on a practical level, I hold my breath as I walk past a clearly unbathed homeless person, I look at distain at young people with huge holes in their ears, I hang on to old grievances, I gossip, and I judge people if I think they aren’t living the kind of life I think they should be living.

So am I really all that humble? Certainly not as humble as I’ve always thought I was, or so it appears. To be really humble, you have to let go of yourself and feel perfectly safe putting yourself into the hands of God. And that’s easier to say than to do. It always feels safer to control your own life. And that might work well as long as things are going along just like you want. But when the time comes that things seem to be heading south, that is when it is most important to put yourself in the hands of God. To be truly humble.

In Jesus’ parable, the tax collector would not even raise his eyes to heaven, but instead begged for God’s mercy. The result? Jesus tells us that the tax collector is the one who went home justified, while the Pharisee did not.

For whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted.

Please God, forgive me for all of my sins and help me to be truly humble.

24Oct2016

Weiners

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Many years ago, Bill and I went on a road trip in the southern part of the United States. We stopped at various places along the way, but our primary destinations were to the homes of Bill’s two brothers, one of whom lives in Birmingham, Alabama, and one of whom lives in Winston-Salem, North Carolina.

My brother-in-law who lives in Winston-Salem had a dog of whom he was very fond. In the way of many single people , May Ling (I think that was her name) was cared for like she was his child. He often talked about her, but we had never seen her before, and knew nothing of her, including her breed.

I remember the event very clearly. We arrived at Bill’s brother’s home and rang the doorbell. His brother answered, and at his feet was a pretty little miniature Dachshund.

“She’s a weiner dog!” Bill exclaimed excitedly.

I can tell you that his brother was not amused. Weiner dog, indeed.

I thought about that day recently when I was at our nearby strip mall getting my final pedicure before I put away my flip flops until we are settled in Arizona for the winter. There is a Petco store in that particular shopping center. Petco (or at least that Petco) frequently has dog adoption days, and they were having such an event on that particular day.

And the dogs that were up for adoption were all Dachshunds. Weiner dogs. Nothing but Dachshunds in cage after cage. Have you ever seen a dog look quite so pitiful? It made me want to adopt her myself….

I know very little about Dachshunds. I had never really been around a Dachshund until my dad and my stepmother purchased their little Miniature Dachshund that they called Schotzy. In German, that word – which is spelled Schatzi – is an endearment that means sweetheart or honey. It was a perfect name for that little dog that they both loved so much….

I did a little research about Dachshunds after Dad and Shirley purchased Schotzy. The word that kept popping up, no matter what source I was using for my research, was stubborn. And man, was that ever true. Schotzy loved Dad and Shirley, and went almost everywhere they went, but though he lived a good long life, I don’t believe he was ever quite house trained. They tried everything they could think of. They read dog books and tried all sorts of training techniques, to no avail.

Leave him in his little kennel, someone would tell them. (I think it might have been me.) Dogs won’t mess where they are sleeping.

Ha! Schotzy never got that memo. And then he was not only untrained, but also needed a bath.

People here in Colorado are absolutely crazy about their dogs. Crazy in a way that I don’t witness elsewhere – or at least not in Arizona. And Dad and Shirley were certainly crazy about that Dachshund, who they took him everywhere with them. And, despite Schotzy’s stubbornness, he was Dad’s buddy. In Dad’s final days, Schotzy would lay on his feet – quite literally. Man’s Best Friend indeed.

Now Schotzy is in heaven with my dad. But seeing those weiner dogs lined up looking for new owners made me nostalgic for his sweet face. And Dad’s.

This post linked to the GRAND Social

22Oct2016

Saturday Smile: Where’s Waldo?

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Every year about this time, Bill and I take Dave, Jll, and Allen out to dinner for their birthdays. We did so last Sunday. Dave and Jll picked us up about 6:25, and as we drove the short distance to Bonefish Grill, I asked who was babysitting the kids since Adelaide was out of town. Jll told me that Dagny and Magnolia were by themselves for about 15 minutes or so until Alastair got home from some activity. Her mother lives across the street, and she was “on call.” Jll had explained to them that their brother would likely come in through the garage, so she told them not to worry if they heard the garage door open.

About 7:10, Jll’s cell phone rang. It was Magnolia. I could tell from listening to Jll’s side of the conversation that Magnolia and Dagny were concerned because Alastair apparently hadn’t come home. Jll told them that she would call the woman who was supposed to drop Alastair off at 6:45 and find out what was going on. I was surprised to see that as she disconnected her phone, she was chuckling.

She explained to us that she would be willing to bet that Maggie and Dagny were upstairs in her bedroom watching television, and that Alastair was sitting downstairs in the family room watching television himself. She confirmed that he had, in fact, been dropped off as expected at 6:45. Jll called Maggie back to tell her that her brother was snug as a bug in a rug downstairs.

We all had a good laugh, and continued eating. About an hour later, Jll’s phone rang again. It was Jll’s mother. This time, as Jll disconnected her phone, she was laughing out loud. It apparently took Alastair about an hour before he began wondering about his sisters (who hadn’t gone downstairs to check to see if he was there), and telephoned his grandmother to see if she knew their whereabouts.

It obviously didn’t occur to any of them to go to the top or the bottom of the stairs and hollar, “yoo hoo, is anyone there?”

As Jll said, “It isn’t like we live in a mansion!”

I still laugh when I think about the case of the missing siblings.

Have a great weekend.

20Oct2016

Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Overkill
Packaging and I are in a fight. We almost always are, because it is just so flipping difficult to get anything opened when you have arthritis in your hands. Even using scissors, it seems like the task is near impossible. But that’s not why we’re in a fight this time. Today it’s because, was it really necessary that the one – ONE – battery for my telephone (a battery that measures 2-1/2 x 2-1/4 inches needed to be packed into a box that measures 10 x 7 x 5-1/2 inches? Perhaps they use such a big box for some judicious reason, but I can’t think of it. I also can’t think why it annoys me so….

Up, Up, Up
And speaking of being annoyed (boy, I guess this is going to be one of those crabby get off my lawn kinds of posts today), I spent yesterday morning trying to figure out what the cost of my insurance will look like next year. The price – already horrendous – went up once again, which was no surprise. I will say that this year at least, the cost increase was slightly lower than my 2 percent salary increase, bringing my net increase to about two bucks more a month. That won’t even buy me a cup of coffee these days. My main struggle this time is with my dental insurance. That cost didn’t go up, but I got to thinking about how much more I spend on dental insurance than I would pay outright to the dentist without insurance for my semiannual checkup and cleaning. Of course, just about the time I decide to forgo dental insurance, I will bite into a popcorn kernel and will break a tooth. The truth is, I’m not much of a gambler. And the paperwork? It’s so complicated! When will Obamacare start making my insurance life easier?

Birthday Boy
I told Bill yesterday morning that he was king for the day, meaning he got to choose any and all activities for his birthday. What’s more, I promised him if he chose to work on his little car all day, I wouldn’t complain. Shockingly, he chose NOT to go to the gym; he chose a slice of pizza from our neighborhood joint for lunch, and chicken-parm-you-taste-so-good from one of our favorite Italian restaurants for dinner. Check out the size of this slice…..

The McLains (minus Adelaide, who is Washington, DC, on a school trip) came over after dinner for cake and ice cream. As I do every year, I told Bill I would make him any kind of cake he desired. He always chooses a chocolate cake, and so I was kind of surprised this year when he chose an ice cream sandwich cake. The cake is super simple to make, simply stacking store-bought ice cream sandwiches in a criss cross pattern, with whipped cream and whatever else you choose between the layers…..I chose Heath bar, caramel and hot fudge……

He was happy to be with half of his kids and three-ninths of his grandkids. The others telephoned him from afar…..

Ciao.

19Oct2016

AARPed

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

I’ve been reading on some of the blogs that I follow, as well as other kinds of social media, that there is remarkable angst amongst the younger crowd because actor Luke Perry is on the cover of AARP Magazine.

Well, welcome to my world.

Apparently Luke Perry (a name I vaguely recognize, like I vaguely recognize – if I recognize them at all — the names of most of the so-called stars on Dancing With the Stars these days) starred in a television program called Beverly Hills, 90210 back in the day. Beverly Hills, 90210 is a program I watched exactly zero times. In fact, I probably wouldn’t even know it existed except for the fact that my zip code for many years was 80210, and I found that exceptionally coincidental. Looking back, it really wasn’t.

Anyway, that whole oh my God, how can (fill in the blank) possibly be that old phenomenon happens on a regular basis when you’re a Baby Boomer. I distinctly remember the first time it happened to me.

I was the office administrator at a downtown law firm. As part of my job, I interviewed and recommended the hiring of administrative staff – anyone who wasn’t a lawyer or legal assistant. In that vein, I was perusing resumes for a secretarial position. Suddenly I noticed that the person applying for the job was born in 1960. I nearly fell out of my chair. Why, that was simply impossible. That was only yesterday, wasn’t it? I remembered what I was doing in the 1960s, for heaven’s sake.

Since then, I’ve experienced that same reaction many times. Like when I see Paul McCartney perform. (When did he develop sagging jowels?) And that can’t be Smokey Robinson. Maybe it’s time to put away the shiny suits…..

Perhaps the only Good Vibrations the Beach Boys are feeling are those coming from their vibrating recliners….

It’s time that Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel sit on the park bench and sing Old Friends to one another…..

But I’ll tell you about one person who has been a member of AARP for a fair amount of time, but to me he doesn’t look a day older than the day I met him…..

Today Bill turns 74. He’s more handsome than ever. Happy birthday to my much-loved husband.

And to all of you who are up-in-arms about Luke Perry: Get a grip. It’s happening to you too. You just don’t know it.

18Oct2016

The Falling Leaves

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

The falling leaves drift by my window
The falling leaves of red and gold
I see your lips the summer kisses
The sunburned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I’ll hear old winter’s song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall. – Johnny Mercer

Neither Bill nor I are fans of cold weather. He grew up in Chicago, and I grew up in eastern/central Nebraska, and we both have spent the majority of our lives in Colorado, so it’s not like we aren’t used to wearing snow boots that track the snow into the house, and knit hats that flatten your hair, and heavy gloves that make you incredibly clumsy. But it doesn’t mean we have to like it.

And we don’t. That is why we own a house in Mesa, AZ; it’s someplace to go when the snow begins to fly.

Having said that, I really do love the fall days in Colorado. And I love them even more because, despite the fact that the changing leaves are a precursor for the inevitable snow, I can thumb my nose at it. We leave next week for Arizona. Let the snow fly.

This year, unfortunately, I don’t see us getting up to Rocky Mountain National Park to listen to the elk bugle. That makes me sad because it’s one of my very favorite things to do. For a variety of reasons, we can’t make that work this year. Nor have we been able to find time for even a drive in the mountains to look at the changing aspens. That bright gold against the evergreen trees, both juxtapositioned against the blue of the sky, says autumn to me.

But it hasn’t mattered because the trees here in Denver have been absolutely splendid. Magnificent. A gift from God.

I have never properly seen the changing leaves in New England. One year, when I was still getting paid to write, I attended a conference in Boston in October. Bill accompanied me as the guest spouse as he often did. After the completion of the conference, he and I took a week-long drive to see the changing leaves for which the region was famous. Only they weren’t. Changing, that is. I frankly can’t remember if we were too early or too late, but it doesn’t matter. There were the trees, either still bearing their green leaves or standing naked. But not red and orange. We drove through Rhode Island and Delaware and Vermont and Maine and Connecticut, and the trees simply didn’t cooperate. Not a red maple leaf to be found.

I’m sure New England’s colors are magnificent, but frankly, the colors in Colorado this year have been incredible, even without a trip into the mountains. The parks have ash trees and maple trees and oak trees and honey locusts, all proudly displaying their colors. The scrub oak are getting into the action as they turn to rust. I have made it a point to get out and enjoy the colors, and here are some of what I’ve seen…….

I know these photos look like I’ve been in the mountains, but all of the photos were taken smack dab in the middle of Denver at urban parks. Aren’t I lucky?

Jen reminded me recently that when she and Bill and I first bought the house in Arizona, Bill and I would leave late in September and spend nearly all of October in Arizona. She told me she always was sad that I was missing the pretty colors. October is the nicest month of the year, she proclaims.

And I think she’s right. By time Bill and I return to Denver for the holidays, the trees will be bare and snow will have fallen. In fact, despite our attempts to live a snowless life, we always get a snowstorm or two sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas Day, when we leave again to spend the rest of the winter in AZ. That’s okay. It reminds us of our youth.

Plus, now we have grandkids to do the shoveling!

17Oct2016

A Little Nag Will Do Ya

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Bill and I were driving to church yesterday morning, and somehow got to talking about the seven deadly sins. You know, pride, envy, gluttony, lust, anger, greed, and sloth. One year for Lent, rather than giving up candy or eating between meals, I instead selected a different deadly sin each day of the week, and concentrated instead on “giving up” actions related to that sin.

I told Bill that I thought I got more out of that particular Lenten sacrifice than I had any other time. I went on to say I think I should do that every day, not just during Lent.

“Is nagging one of the seven deadly sins?” Bill asked, his voice full of hope.

Very funny.

But unbeknownst to either Bill or me, the theme for the Mass readings was praying endlessly. And, to my delight, the gospel was the one in which Jesus tells his friends the parable about the bad judge and the woman who nags the judge again and again until he finally gives in and agrees to give her a just judgement.

The moral? Nag God. Badger him endlessly. Pester him until you think he will listen to you. In other words, pray, pray, pray, pray. And if you haven’t gotten the answer you want, pray some more.

Jesus asked his friends: Will not God then secure the rights of his chosen ones who call out to him day and night?

The challenge, of course, is to be open to God’s answer, which may not be the answer for which you’ve been hoping.

This election season has been very stressful for me. Quite frankly, I’m appallingly unhappy with my choices for president. Not voting is not an option for me. So I will vote, but I’m not kidding even a little bit when I tell you that I don’t think I will know for whom I will vote until I sit down and fill out my ballot.

It’s caused me to lose sleep. I’ve cried. I’ve felt helpless and frightened.

And then recently, my stepmother began posting something on Facebook on a somewhat regular basis that actually made me breath again. Her message is simple. Vote, and then pray.

So God, prepare to be nagged.

By the way, on a related note, please read the attached link to a Daily Mail article in which the publication cites research indicating that husbands with nagging wives actually live longer than those whose wives don’t hound them endlessly.

See Bill, it’s for your own good. You’re welcome.

And despite the nuns’ assertion that puns were the lowest form of humor…..

This post linked to the GRAND Social

15Oct2016

Saturday Smile: In Marlin Perkins’ Dreams

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Even naturalists like to make a fashion statement.

On Tuesday I watched Cole while his mommy chaperoned Kaiya’s field trip to a nature center. When I stopped by at 8:15 a.m. to pick up the boy, Kaiya answered the door, looking cute as a bug wearing shorts, a baseball cap, and bright pink flowered rain boots. “Wow, why the boots?” I asked her.

“We are going to be up to our ankle in water, Nana,” she said. “And there will be (gulp) BUGS in the water.” Oh no.

Well, I told her that sounded kind of yucky, and asked her if she was a bit nervous about walking in water where there are insects.

“Not really,” she assured me. “I’m hoping the only bugs in the water will be ladybugs.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was an improbability.

But these photos tell me that whether or not she was the bravest among the naturalists, she was certainly the fanciest. You might notice that no one else is wearing pink boots to explore the wild….

Have a great weekend.

13Oct2016

Thursday Thoughts

Posted in Whimsies by kzmclain

Holiday Nana’s Whimsies Shop
I am starting to make some items for my Etsy shop – Nana’s Whimsies Shop – for the holidays. My Etsy shop hasn’t generated a lot of income, but at least it gives me somewhat of a reason to crochet. I love to crochet, and have given almost everyone I can think of a handmade afghan. Anyway, if you are so inclined, check out my shop. There’s a link at the top of my blog. Here is a Christmas afghan you simply MUST have for, well, someone….

Pizza Pizza
We may or may not have stopped at Fox’s Pizza before we went to Wilma’s house when we arrived in Chicago last week. What the heck, we thought. She probably won’t notice that hour that we could have been with her. And we were fearful that we wouldn’t make it again. We, of course, in fact did make it one more time. Besides seeing Wilma, it’s the best thing about being in Chicago. As we eat the pizza, we talk endlessly about what exactly it is about that particular pizza that makes it so delicious. Is it the sausage? Is it the pizza sauce? Is it the crust? We still don’t have an answer. More research is undoubtedly necessary!….

Forgetful Today and Tamale
Yesterday Bill and I made a trip to Tamale Kitchen located a bit south of us to see if their tamales are as good as the ones we get in Mesa at Old El Paso Tamales. They weren’t. They are, however, pretty darn good. One of the things I like best about Old El Paso Tamales is that they have different kinds varying from pork and other meat to corn to sweet. Every one of them is delicious. The Tamale Kitchen offers two choices – hot or mild. I had the hot, and as I said, they were good. However, after we left, we drove all the way to Joann’s Fabrics before I realized that I had forgotten my purse at the tamale place. Left it hanging on the chair, as I do several times a year, someplace or other. It’s a terrible habit of mine. Thus far, I’ve been lucky. The purse has always been found by an honest person who hasn’t taken a single thing. Bill bought me a clip-on purse a couple of years ago as his solution to my problem. However, while in theory it is a great idea, in practice it is uncomfortable and unwieldy. I simply have to remember to pick up my purse when I leave someplace. Argh. By the way, it was there, safely tucked behind the counter.

Fruits and Vegetables
While we were visiting Wilma, Smith Crossing had a Farmers’ Market on site. It was supposed to be outdoors in the terrace area, but it happened to rain that day. Instead, the farmers set up their goods on a table in a hallway that has a lot of foot traffic, well, walker traffic. As you can see, the fruits and veggies looked delicious. I bought a locally-grown pear, and will attest to its sweetness and freshness. I’m just not sure how much they sold because no one cooks. Still, it’s nice that the facility offers a variety of activities….

I Always Cry at Weddings
And last, but not least, here is a photo that I probably look at 10 times a day, and laugh every time I do so. Cole was the ring bearer at his Auntie Sineat’s wedding this summer in Maine, and he was not crazy about his role…..

Ciao.

Nana's Whimsies

Musings of a Baby Boomer….

Category Archives: Whimsies

Thursday Thoughts: Wednesday Edition

Hard to Be Humble

Weiners

Saturday Smile: Where’s Waldo?

Thursday Thoughts

AARPed

The Falling Leaves

A Little Nag Will Do Ya

Saturday Smile: In Marlin Perkins’ Dreams

Thursday Thoughts