Category Archives: Whimsies

Oh, the Weather Outside is…..

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Yesterday, as the snow fell in Colorado, the sun was shining outside our AZ windows. The weather was a pleasant 74 degrees, and my friend and I even felt a tad chilly as we shared a bottle of wine on the patio of a favorite Italian restaurant yesterday afternoon. Admittedly, a glass or two of red wine warmed us up.

And we kept abreast of our Colorado families’ weather condition. As the afternoon progressed, the snow kept falling in Colorado and so did the temperatures. While we sipped our wine, she got a video featuring her little 2-1/2 year old twin granddaughters waving to their daddy as he shoveled the snow. Hi Daddy, they shouted to him. Cheers, we said to one another. Because we were in AZ wearing sandals and capris. And feeling sorry for our loved ones who were shoveling snow.

The schools in Denver and its suburbs closed early yesterday, and it won’t surprise me if they are closed altogether today. While I don’t miss the cold and snow, I do think fondly about those winter days when you are snug and warm inside your house with a pot of beef stew simmering cheerfully on your stove. But my fond memories fade as I think about how someone has to go out into that cold and snow and shovel. I don’t even let myself think about driving on those icy streets. After all, it’s MY daydream, and it doesn’t include shoveling or driving.

I remember when I was in elementary school and the snow would start falling. Man, how I prayed that it would fall all night long, thereby giving us a chance for a snow day. Snow days are better than regular days off because they are so unexpected. We would rise early and turn on the television. We would sit three feet from the screen, watching with hopeful hearts as the school and business closures rolled across the screen. When the names beginning with S started showing up, our hopes soared.

And there it was! St. Bonaventure Grade School is closed! We could stay in our pajamas all day. Life was good. I wonder if there is the same level of excitement when instead of watching the names roll across a screen, you just click on a link. It seems to lose something, doesn’t it? Instant gratification can’t match the joy of waiting to be grateful.

Float Like a Butterfly, Sting Like a Bee

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When Bill was a kid, he watched Friday Night Fights with his dad. He said the two of them would sit in the pretty little den at the back of their house, and his dad would smoke a cigar while watching the fights. Imagine that….smoking a cigar in the house. At any rate, that experience nurtured Bill’s love for boxing. He hasn’t watched boxing for many years now, but he enjoyed it during the days of Mohammad Ali and Joe Frazier and Sonny Liston and George Foreman. Now boxing is just stupid. Those are my words, not his.

Fast forward 60 years or so, and you will find that same Bill learning that he has Parkinson’s disease. In his optimistic Bill-like manner, he takes it in stride and starts studying things he can do to help slow progression. He tries many different strategies, and for the most part, has been successful at keeping the progression slow. But as I have mentioned before, the one thing that his movement disorder doctor says again and again is that the single best thing to do to slow down Parkinson’s progression is aerobic exercise. Yuck. Parkinsons’ disease sucks. Aerobic exercise sucks. Put them both together and you have misery to the second power.

Lots of people have the disease. One of the best-known Parkinson’s patients was Mohammad Ali. Yes, that same man who Bill watched on Friday Night Fights with his dad. Ali’s disease likely resulted from getting bashed in the head a million times. That’s my theory anyway, but I didn’t go out and get my medical degree last night.

While we knew that aerobic exercise was good for those with PD, we recently learned that boxing is one of the best physical activities. It provides plenty of aerobic activity, but it also helps with balance and motor skills. And since Mohammad Ali lived in the Phoenix area for many years up until he passed away, this area provides lots of PD-related programs and activities.

So, I recently googled “Mesa boxing Parkinson’s” and was delighted when something called Rock Steady Boxing showed up in my feed. It appeared that Rock Steady provided exactly the exercise he was seeking. In addition to boxing, they offer voice strengthening, small motor coordination and stretching. Yesterday, we went to check it out. While we were just going to see what it was like, he actually jumped in the deep end right away and gave it a go…..

Bill was hitting the bag so hard that I couldn’t get a clear shot!

Next time he will be wearing actual exercise clothes, which will make it significantly easier!

I think in addition to the exercise, he will enjoy being with men and women who also have PD. There is satisfaction from being around people who are sharing the same experiences as you. As for me, it will be nice to talk to other care partners from whom I can learn.

Keep your fingers crossed. But most of all, don’t get on Bill’s last nerve. He will have mad skillz.

A-Hunting We Will Go

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A-hunting we will go,
A-hunting we will go
Heigh-ho, the derry-o,
A-hunting we will go. – Thomas Arne

My parents sold their bakery in Nebraska and moved to Leadville, Colorado, the summer of 1973. I was a freshman at the University of Nebraska, and didn’t go with them. At least not at that time.

Colorado was obviously different from Nebraska in many ways. But Leadville, Colorado, was like moving to a new country where you don’t know any of the customs or the language. It was a completely new ball of wax, so to speak. Nearly everyone who had a job worked at the molybdenum mine some 20 miles out of town. The citizens of Leadville weren’t wealthy. The mine paid decent wages — the best in town — but it didn’t produce millionaires, at least not for those who put on a hard hat and took the elevator down to the mines every day.

The workers were paid every other Friday. The miners brought their paychecks in to Safeway to be cashed. They bought their groceries for a two-week period using cash. They stopped at the various businesses to pay their bills, again in cash. Perhaps they put a bit in the bank. And then they spent the rest on more nefarious ventures. I’m generalizing, obviously, but that scenario was true for many Leadville residents.

elmer fudd hunt illustration

The families in Leadville, many of whom were Hispanic, took the fall hunting season very seriously. They stored their freezers with the venison and/or game birds (using every edible part) that they had bagged, and fed their families out of the freezer for the next 12 months from their success.

The first time I came to visit my family in Leadville was during fall break in October 1973. Mom and Dad picked me up in Denver from the airport. As we headed up up up into the mountains and the air became thinner and thinner, traffic began to slow down. Pretty soon we were in a traffic jam that would rival any big-city mess. A trip that would generally have taken a couple of hours took nearly four hours.

“What on earth is causing this traffic backup?” I asked my parents. They pointed out that nearly every car had a dead animal or two tied to the top. It was hunting season in the mountains, and it was an eye-opening experience for me.

My dad had never been a hunter. In fact, he really didn’t care about guns. I think he owned a shotgun and I know he hunted a time or two for pheasant, but it was just to humor my Uncle Ray, who enjoyed the sport. Dad might have even taken my brother Dave hunting once or twice, but Dave’s appetite for guns was about like my dad’s. The bug didn’t bite him either.

I was thinking about hunting season because Bill and I drove from Denver to our AZ home last week. We stopped in Raton, New Mexico, because this traveler had the Big Time Theory that as long as we were on the other side of Raton Pass, the snow wouldn’t be a problem. As it happened, we drove the next day in a blowing snowstorm. Oh well. That’s why I’m not a meteorologist. That, plus I don’t own any cocktail dresses.

Anyhoo, we had dinner that night at a steakhouse in this New Mexico town that is a few miles from the New Mexico/Colorado border and called home by some 6,000 people. I couldn’t help but notice that the restaurant was filled with mostly men, and what’s more, every single man was wearing a hunting cap of some sort. Which, I might add, they didn’t feel the need to remove despite the fact that they were in a restaurant.

And I thought to myself that they, too, would fill their freezers with deer and/or elk meat just as the hunters from Leadville. In fact, they might have been having the last beef steak they would enjoy for some time.

I also hoped that they enjoyed the blue Jello that was featured as part of the salad bar…..

A just reward for bagging an elk.

Saturday Smile: We Made It!

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It took us three days, and a drive through a snowstorm, but Bill and I made it to our AZ home mid-morning yesterday. We were greeted with massively overgrown bushes and a house that smelled like it had been uninhabited for nearly six months. But we also were greeted by my niece Maggie, her husband Mark, and Austin and Lilly. I’m not sure if they were happier to see me or my now-full pretzel jar and a cookie jar full of Oreos…..

No matter, it’s good to be getting settled for a bit in AZ. Stay tuned for our AZ adventures.

Have a great weekend.

Thursday Thoughts

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Shopped ’til We Dropped
I only gave birth to one child, and that child was a boy. As such, I have had little chance in my life to shop for girls’ clothes. It’s true that I have five granddaughters, but for various reasons, I haven’t had much opportunity to shop with/for them. So it was with great glee that I took Dagny shopping for school clothes on Monday. It was her birthday gift from us. Given that her birthday was August 7, I think it was about time we shopped. We had a wonderful time together. I wasn’t able to buy a lot of pretty dresses since she is much more drawn to athletic clothes and Van sneakers. Still, we had a blast.

We Should Be Dancin’, Yeah
The first night we got to Montpelier, Micah took it upon himself to try and teach his papa to dance via a video of some sort. Bill gave it his all, and I, for one, was simply happy that he didn’t put his back…..

Chicken Little
You sort of forget what all comes with a move to a new abode. Heather and Lauren not only moved their kids and their home furnishings, etc., but they had to move their chickens. They bought a new chicken coop, and erected it in the perfect spot in their new back yard. I went with Heather to gather the six chickens from the old house, and this, my friends, was no easy task. It wasn’t that they didn’t want to move necessarily. It’s just that when humans approach chickens, the chickens get a mite nervous that they may be that night’s dinner. At any rate, we gathered them into boxes (and when I say we, I mean Heather) and drove them to their new digs. As they were released from the boxes, I pointed out that Heather hadn’t yet put in the fences. No, I’m going to go get the chicken wire right now at the old house, she told me. What are you going to do with the chickens right now, I wondered. Oh, they’ll just stick right around here. They won’t leave the corner of this yard, she assured me. She and Lauren left, and maybe a half hour later, I looked out the front window. To my surprise, there were three or four chickens wandering around the yard. The front yard, that is. I went outside and tried to shoo them to the back yard, but they basically said you aren’t the boss of me. At one point, a dog walker said, “Did I just see a chicken walk by?” The good news is that eventually, all six chickens were gathered safely and put in their new home — WITH A FENCE…..

All Maple Syrup, All the Time
Vermonters are serious about their maple syrup. I recall recently when Joseph and Micah were visiting Denver. They looked at a jar of maple syrup, and with a sneer, said, “This maple syrup is from…..Canada.” At any rate, I couldn’t help but shoot this photo at a restaurant at which we ate lunch while in Montpelier. Maple syrup anyone?…..

Ciao

At the Speed of Light

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I learned to type when I was in high school, where it was mandatory for girls to take Typing 101. While I was only a fair math student, and biology and chemistry were not my forte, I was really good — no, GREAT — at typing. I took that skill into the real world, both in college and in many of my jobs between undergrad and graduate school.

I learned to type on a totally manual typewriter, then moved on to an electric. I can still remember the sound of that ding that let you know that it was time to hit the lever to move to the next line. At some point, rather than a lever, it was a button. Suweeeeeet! My friends, it was not uncommon for me to type between 90 and 100 wpm (which is typist extraordinarian shorthand for words per minute),  with no mistakes. Well, not many at any rate. I still kept a bottle of White-Out by my typewriter.

Now, of course, typewriters went the way of the Dewey Decimal System Card Catalogs about which I wrote yesterday. We no longer type. Instead, we keyboard. And it’s hard to argue with me if I say that keyboarding is a stupid word.

Having bragged about my typing speed, I will now tell you that I am an incredibly slow texter. I text A LOT. But I am one of those sad seniors who holds the phone in the left hand and pokes the keys with the index finger of the right hand. No thumbs involved. My grandkids not only text with their thumbs, they can do it on the run. Sometimes they even do the entire thing with one hand, using one thumb.

I couldn’t text with my thumbs even if I wanted to, because I have arthritis in my thumbs. Mom told me if I kept cracking my knuckles, I would eventually have arthritic thumbs. It was just one of the many things about which she was correct. (She also wasn’t crazy about my first husband.)

It was no surprise to read an article recently that told of a research study indicating that the quickest way to keyboard on a mobile phone is using your two thumbs and autocorrect. No surprise there. The study went on to show that kids aged 10-19 years old are faster texters than older people. The only thing surprising about that finding is that some university or organization spent money to ascertain that information. Heck, they could have just asked me. My grandkids text at the speed of sound.

Still, there was one interesting thing I learned from the study. It seems that these 10 – 19 year-old texters type, er, keyboard nearly as quickly as their than 40-year-old mothers and fathers type, er, keyboard on a regular computer keyboard. According to the study, 40-year-olds keyboard about 50 wpm while sitting at their computers, while my grandkids and their friends text at a speed of 38-40 wpm.

As you can see, neither can compete with the 90-100 wpm this Nana TYPED on her handy dandy Smith-Corona.

Library Stacks

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Now that I’m retired, if you asked me what I wish I had been when I grew up, I would probably say a librarian. The thing is, I’m basing that on the fact that I like to read, and that libraries make me happy. I have loved libraries since I was a little girl.

I have a friend who actually is a librarian, or at least was, because now she, too, is retired. She told me once that when she was interviewing people for library jobs, she always asked them why they wanted to work in a library. If they answered because I like to read, she would immediately discount them as a viable candidate. Because if you think about it,  the reality is you are more likely to see them sitting at a computer doing research.

That, my friends, is why I would actually have SUCKED at being a librarian. I have little talent (or, frankly, affection) for research. I generally can’t even figure out what words to put in Google when I’m trying to figure out the answer to a question or problem.

Anyhoo, she and I had lunch recently, and we got to talking about libraries. Which then got us talking about the Dewey Decimal System.

“Kids don’t even know what that means,” I said to her. She quickly corrected me,  reminding me that the Dewey Decimal System is still alive and well and accessed frequently. If you go to a library and look for Lidia’s Italian-American Kitchen cookbook which was published in 2001, you will still find it in the 641 area, at 641.5945. The difference is in the system by which you access that number. Baby Boomers recall going to a library — either a public library or your school library — and finding a wooden filing cabinet full of index cards arranged alphabetically. Those cards provided all of the information needed to locate the book, the information that we now access via the library’s computer system. Those paper cards have gone the way of our Rolodex wheel.

I have fond memories of those wooden file cabinets. It’s how I — and all Baby Boomers — researched our English or Social Studies term papers. Our research began, however, by stopping at Marion the Librarian’s desk so that she could suggest books and save you time.

What I learned from my librarian friend that I really DIDN’T know was that Melvil Dewey was not a very nice fellow. It’s true that he created the library classification system that saved all of our asses, but in his spare time, he was sexually harassing women long before Matt Lauer’s grandfather was born. Not only was he making young female librarians run for cover when he entered the door, but he also was racist and antisemetic to boot.

The American Library Association, whose members’ grandmothers were probably among those being chased around the book stacks by Dewey himself, voted this past June to remove his name from its highest honor, formerly known as the Melvil Dewey Medal. There was no debate, and the ayes won handily.

While there was no excuse for Mr. Dewey’s behavior, without the Dewey Decimal System, I bet it would be a free-for-all at Public Libraries world-wide.

Monday Musings

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Makeup Work
I didn’t offer my Thursday Thoughts last week for a variety of reasons. I’m always surprised at the fact that people tell me they miss my Thursday Thoughts, because my thoughts are not very profound. Nevertheless, to make up for having no thoughts last week, I am providing musings today.

Birthday Laughs
Bill celebrated his birthday on Saturday, and as part of his celebration, we went to see comedian Tom Papa at the Comedy Works with Dave and Jll. He was absolutely hilarious, making me laugh so hard I had tears! His opening act was also extremely funny, but unfortunately, I can’t recall her name. I liked many things about him, not the least of which is that his comedy routine is clean. I’m not a prude, but sometimes I think that comedians use sex and profanity because they don’t want to be more creative.

More Birthday Fun
To continue the birthday celebration, Court and his family came over for cake and ice cream last night. Good birthday celebrations run several days. Earlier in the day, I took the kids to see Abominable, which was a real treat. Afterwards, Cole wanted to go in the photo booth they provide in which you can get a photo taken for a mere five bucks. We’ll do a selfie when we get home, I told him…..

Who knew that my hair would be sticking straight up in the air?

I Could Always Walk Backwards
As I was getting ready for church yesterday morning, I was putting on my makeup. I rarely wear makeup except to church. Even then, as I look in the mirror, I often don’t really see myself. But yesterday I couldn’t help but notice that the new cardigan sweater I was wearing looked nice. The buttons are laying so flat, I thought to myself. Until I noticed that they were laying so flat because I had the sweater on backwards. Before you start envisioning me in some sort of acrobatic movement to button the sweater, I must tell you that I pulled it over my head while buttoned. I was extremely thankful to have noticed this because I can think of almost nothing that would have been more embarrassing. Oy vey.

Far Away Places
Bill and I are leaving on Wednesday (assuming the weather cooperates) for our fall visit to AZ. We’re going to drive so that we can take all of our summer clothes which we no longer need here but will need in AZ. We always think we won’t bring much, and then once we pack up our car, we look like the Beverly Hillbillies. We are taking it very slow this time, turning what most people do in one day into a three-day trip. Why not? We’re retired. We will fly back sometime before Thanksgiving, as usual.

Ciao.

Saturday Smile: Shut Up Reba!

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My yellow bug is a 2003, with just over 97,000 miles. It has a cassette player and a AM/FM radio. I have no built-in GPS; there is no blue tooth, Sirius radio is nonexistent. It’s okay. I get along fine listening to sports radio and two of my favorite country stations.

I’m telling you this because of a phenomenon that happened to me this past weekend while we were in Vermont. We had a nice rental car, an upgrade from a midsize car to an SUV. One day while we were there, I took Joseph and Micah to the Montshire Museum, about an hour away in Norwich, VT. Bill was busy hammering and using power tools, so I was on my own.

I wasn’t terribly worried about finding the museum despite the fact that T-Mobile (which happens to be my carrier) hasn’t realized yet that Vermont exists. I had only snippets of cell service during our entire trip. But the museum’s website had given directions, which I wrote down, and it seemed very easy.

And it was. I found the museum without any problems. By the way, as we traveled towards the museum, we solved the world’s problems. How do you think we could end war in the world I asked them, for example. Micah’s answer?  He decided the country that would rule the world would be determined by a football game. You know, Russia v. the United States. Whichever country’s team won would rule the world for that year. Hey. There are flaws in his system, but we adults aren’t doing that great a job right now.

Anyway, when it was time to return home, I realized that I wasn’t sure exactly how to go. While their website told me how to get to the museum, it didn’t tell me how to get home. Sure, most people would just turn the paper upside down and go back the way they came. Don’t laugh, but I have absolutely no sense of direction. But the good news was I had cell service. So I plugged my phone (which was low in battery power from taking pictures and video) into the car and set Google Maps to tell me how to go.

Here’s where the technology with which I am wholly unfamiliar (see above, my car is two sound systems behind most cars) came into play. Because every time the Google voice would give me an instruction, a song from my Apple Tunes library would come on. And it wasn’t even a good song. It was one of my least favorite Reba McIntyre songs. I would turn it off, but as soon as the voice spoke again, Reba was back. I know there is a way to manage this mayhem, but I don’t know what it is. What I do know, however, is that there were two boys in the back seat who nearly peed their pants from laughing at their Nana’s situation, and her sheer inability to fix the problem.

There laughter made me laugh, and it still does when I think about it.

Have a good weekend.

Green Mountain State Fun

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Every time we’ve come to Vermont, I’ve thought to myself, “This is the prettiest place I’ve ever visited.” That’s saying a lot because I’ve not only visited some mighty pretty places in my blessed lifetime, but I live in two of the prettiest states in the United States — Colorado and Arizona.
But seriously? Those maple trees in the autumn? Blazing reds and golds carpet the hills, making them look like they’re on fire. Our timing was perfect because yesterday, as we prepared to return to Denver, we learned that rain was expected later that evening in Vermont, almost certainly destined to knock the remaining leaves off the trees. It’s true that it’s better to be lucky than to be smart…..
Heather and Lauren and the boys had moved into their new home so recently that the lock was barely installed. Bill knew his work was cut out for him when his daughter greeted him with a hug and a power drill. Those who know my husband understand that nothing could have made him happier than a few days with lots of projects. Oh, and his daughter and grandsons. Their new house is located on Pleasantview Street, and it is, indeed, a pleasant view from their front yard…..
Here’s the thing that’s most remarkable about the Green Mountain State: the people are extraordinarily friendly.
Thanks for your help, and have a nice day. Hey, you’re welcome, and you have a nice day too. Thanks, I will, but I hope yours is even nicer. Thanks for that thought, and I feel the same. Hey, me too.
And so on. It took a while to leave my high strung city stress level behind and slow down to Vermont speed. A-yup. The first indication of Vermonters’ friendliness was at the airport, where seating is on rocking chairs…..
Even the woman behind the counter at literally the worst hotel I’ve ever stayed in was very cheerful and managed to greet us without telling us under her breath to get out while you still can. The thing is, there was no place else to go because we weren’t the only ones who wanted to visit Vermont during peak Indigenous People (formerly known as Columbus Day) weekend. It’s why we were at the worst hotel I’ve ever stayed in in the first place. It’s all too true that the early bird gets the worm. We checked out at the first opportunity and headed to the friendliest hotel I’ve ever stayed in which not only cleaned their rooms, but offered free pop and homegrown Vermont apples, and sent us home with little bottles of VT maple syrup.
While Bill installed lights and fixed cracks and repaired crown molding, I got to visit a cool science museum and have lunch at King Arthur’s Flour factory with our grandsons Joseph and Micah…..
One day I got to watch them each play soccer, which was a special treat…..

Micah excels at defense!

I was also able to see Micah play piano during his regular lesson. Another 20 years and he’ll be a maestro. Twinkle Twinkle Little Star will be a distant memory. However, it’s important to note that he also can do manual labor…..
Our trip even included a visit to Montreal, where we managed to allude drug sniffing dogs at the border and shop in an IKEA store that looked just like the store in Denver except the signs were in French.
We hugged the boys goodbye the night before we left, and they headed off to their newly carpeted bedrooms. Our goodbyes to the boys and to Heather and Lauren were not as sad as usual because in a few short weeks they will be flying to Denver for Thanksgiving.
As much as we enjoyed our time in Vermont, we were both glad to get home to Denver. Nineteen degree temps were history, and we are looking at temps in the 70s for a few days at least.
​
There’s no place like home.