In addition to cleaning the refrigerator, the sofa cushions, and vacuuming the downstairs yesterday, I thoroughly sanitized the silverware drawer today.
Do most people clean their silverware drawer before having company? I don’t think so. But, again, this was something that was 1.5 years overdue, and company coming gave me a most brilliant excuse to do it!
Clean silverware drawer – check!
AND, how is it that the silverware drawer becomes so, um, gross. I swear it had every crumb from every dinner I ever cooked in the last 1.5 years in it! It was as if, a souvenir from each meal had decided that it would depart from the counter, hop in the drawer, and lie dormant until today.
I took every utensil out of the drawer, put the plastic silverware container in the dishwasher, and I was left with a mess in the drawer that required a vacuum cleaner and some Murphy’s Oil Soap and a cloth. How does this happen? I was amazed, because the bottom of the drawer looked like I used it as a cutting board when I made a roast beef! But, I didn’t!!!!
I’ve come to the conclusion that the silverware drawer is a phenomenon. You put clean utensils in it, and somehow (maybe when you’re flossing your teeth, peeking in the refrigerator for a late night snack, or when you’re cleaning the litter boxes), icky stuff sneaks into it! It’s like the highway-sneaker phenomenon. Do you know about this? If not, of course, I'll enlighten you.
When driving home on the highway, I almost always see a pair of shoes on the side of the highway. It's as if a certain segment of the American population buys shoes at the mall and then says, "Jeez. I don't need these anymore. So, I'm gonna pitch 'em out the window!" And, is it just me or does anyone else wonder about this?!
Okay, so maybe MS (Martha Stewart) doesn’t have to do this, but in order to board Monty at the vet’s for tomorrow night’s party, I had to get a fecal sample (for said fecal test), get him a kennel cough vaccine (Do dogs cough? No way! Dogs bark, and I'm sure that I've NEVER heard Monty bark - not!), and a lube and oil change. Yes, Monty was being farmed out, because he was not a party dog; if he remained, he would bark the whole night and be a total “non-dog ownership” confirmation for all the party go-ers!
So, Monty’s sample was collected, and here it waits for delivery to the vet’s for testing. Err, okay, just think of it as a small modern art sculpture, okay?! :-)
Fecal sample – check!
Champagne – check!
Champagne glasses – check!
Flowers – check!
Filho’s for Lasagna and Ravioli Cuz I Didn’t Want to Spend Hours Making Food – check!
Name Tags Created with a Very Excited Iz Who is Junior Party Hostess – check and priceless! <3
Marcia, Your Name Tag is Made; Be Here OR ELSE Be Subject to Much Harassment by Me and Iz. <3
Bill and I went to see how the covered bridge in Pepperell was coming along. Right before we got to the temporary bridge, Bill said, “Oh, no. Don’t tell me I’ve got another flat!”
At about 7 miles into our ride, Bill’s rear tire was flat as a pancake. This was his second flat in two weeks. I thought it was rather funny, because I am THE Queen of Flat Tires. Yes, my picture is next to that term in Webster’s. See!
So, Bill dismounted and brought his bike over to the side of the road to begin tire surgery. For the last two miles, I really had to pee. Usually, I have two cups of coffee in the morning, but I time them so, I’m fully, err, empty by the time I bike. Today, I only had one cup, but that cup wanted O-U-T so badly when Bill stopped to fix his tire.
I said to Bill quite awkwardly, “Um, err, ah, well, while you change that, I’ll, um, err, ah, go behind here and, um, err, well, I need to pee!” The “here” was a 12-foot stack of railroad ties.
Bill laughed and said, “Well, there’s a port-a-potty over there.” He motioned to the construction site. I’m NOT a big port-a-potty fan, and given the choice between a construction site potty and a stack of ties beside the side of the road, well, the ties looked pretty freaking awesome to me!
I said, “I think I’ll take my chances behind here.” He said, “Well, I’ll just be here fixing my tire.” I hadn’t peed in woods in a long time, and I didn’t feel like starting today, but I really needed to GO! So, I leaned my bike against the timbers, and I rounded the corner. As I did, Bill shouted, “Be careful of the poison ivy!”
After Bill got his flat, he wanted to stay on the rail trail, because he didn’t have a spare tube. We rode up to Nashua, met Bob, and then Bill said we were going back down the trail. Bob asked me if I wanted to go further rather than go back.
I was really happy that he asked, because I was afraid that he was still peeved that I dusted him last week. I then told him that I would bike back with Bill. I wanted to bike more, but I knew I had so much to do at home, because on Wednesday night, I was having 13 people (my writing group from my ex-company) over to my house for dinner.
Some people dread having a party at their home, but I am glad I signed up to host this party, because it’s made me do everything I should have done in the last six months but didn’t do because I was out biking four hours every day of the week!
When I got home, I cleaned the refrigerator, washed the cushion covers on the sofa in the family room, and vacuumed the whole downstairs.
I know that men think we women want all these "things" (okay, maybe I’m not like most women), but I love it when I have a clean refrigerator, sofa cushions, and no Corgi fur tumbleweeds blowing across the kitchen floor! :-)
Thus, happiness is….
A clean refrigerator inside…
And out…with all my groovy magnets!
I told Iz we were hosting a party on Wednesday. She asked, “Can I be the boss of the party?” I said, “No. I am.” She asked, “Can I be your assistant then?” I said, “Sure!” Tonight, Iz decided that all party participants would need name tags.
And, love is…making party name tags with your daughter on Tuesday.<3
Iz and Sydney. I guess I mean it in that "Thelma and Louise" way; however, it's not in the crime-spree kind of way; it's what I'm hoping will be in the life-long-kind-of-friendship way.
Today, after about 10 text messages with Melissa, in which we each described what our plans were for the day, Iz and I were part of Melissa and Sydney's plans and visa versa. Before I knew it, Iz and I were in the car headed to the mall to meet Melissa and Sydney, because Sydney needed new jeans!
Of course, I agreed to go to the mall only if it had a Sephora. AND, I know it's hard to believe, but I actually needed something at Sephora; this wasn't just a "walk-by" in which I ended up leaving the store with a new pair of false eyelashes, a new hue of green eye shadow, or purple glitter eyeliner!
Plus, there was a Sears at this mall. (And, I can't believe I am mentioning Sears and Sephora in the same breath! Shhh! My Sephora Beauty Insider Card* might be cancelled if word ever got out!) I needed vacuum cleaner bags. Hmm, I wonder if they had green bags with purple glitter on them, because that's the only way vaccum cleaner bags could ever be enticing to me!
*I remember when I got my card; I was with Suze. I asked the salesperson what the card meant, and before she could say anything, Suze said, "It means you spend too much money at Sephora!" Err, um, and Suze was right!
As you know, Iz recently went to get her ears pierced but decide to wait until she's six-and-three-quarters. I also mentioned that I had asked friends about when their daughters got their ears pierced or when they might let them get them pierced. I had asked Melissa, and she said that she was going to make Sydney wait until she was 10.
While driving, I got a text message from Melissa which read, "I let Syd get her ears pierced!!!!!!!!!!" I laughed hysterically when I read it, because when Melissa said 10 was her age for ear piercing (though Sydney was only 6 months shy of 10), she actually had me rethinking my decision to let Iz get hers done before she was 10!
Once we got to the mall, Iz and I met Melissa and Sydney in the girls department. They had just bought jeans when we found them. Melissa introduced us, and as I looked at Sydney, I saw so much of Melissa in her -- a beautiful little girl; and ironically, the minute Sydney spoke to me, it was as if she had known me all her life.
Then Sydney beamed as she announced, "I just got my ears pierced!" Iz didn't seem to have any second thoughts about her decision to postpone, and Sydney told Iz how easy it was and did her best to explain it to her. I was so glad that she did, because I think I had scared off Iz with that ear infection jazz! And then I said, "Hey, maybe Sydney can come with us when you get yours ears pierced, Iz."
We made our way through the mall, stopping at "Justice" for Sydney and Iz, Sephora for me (where it was obvious that both Sydney and Iz shared a love of lip gloss and lipstick), the gelatto stand for lemon, chocolate, and vanilla frozen treats, and then various other random stops, which culminated in a visit to the Betsey Johnson store, where it was also obvious that both Sydney and Iz would like to shop there one day! (Yes, but their Moms would not be paying for it!)
At one point, Melissa and I were walking along, and Iz and Sydney were walking ahead of us chatting away. Melissa said, "They're not hitting it off at all, are they?!" I had to laugh to myself, because I'd never seen Iz connect with someone so fast, and ironically, she was saying the other day how much she wished she had an older sister.
Could it be that the daughters of two old friends...
I mentioned in a previous post that Iz had gotten her hair cut last week in a short bob. I, and everyone else, thought it looked adorable on her. Later on in the day, after I told her how lovely she looked, she moaned, "But, I look like a boy!" Of course, she did not, but I felt horrible that she felt like that, and then I happened to blurt something out to the effect of, if we got her ears pierced she might feel less like that.
For the last two years, the "When can I get my ears pierced?" question had been non-stop. I always answered this question with the very hard-to-argue-with, "When you're older," and then Iz would counter with "But, [insert-every-girl's-name-in-the-world-Iz's-age-or-under-who-had-pierced-ears-here] has her ears pierced. Why can't I?"
I had done it this time though by mentioning pierced ears as not a potential solution to her angst and woe but as THE solution. Of course, why is it that when you use profanity by accident, it seems your kids totally miss it, but when you mention a new toy, a sweet treat, or ear piercing because you are feeling guilty, well, they ALWAYS hear that?!
I swear that Iz looked just like Liam at that moment when I shake the cat treats. Her ears perked up, her eyes got bright, and then she asked, unlike Liam, "Mommy, can we get my ears pierced this week?" I countered with, "Err, um, ah, well...." which was not well received. And Iz said, "But, Mommy, you SAID I could get my ears pierced!"
I had originally thought that she could get her ears pierced when she was in 7th grade. Why 7th grade? Well, that's when my Mom let me get mine pierced. Of course, after thinking about it, I remember thinking in 5th grade what a total killjoy my Mom was for making me wait until 7th grade.
Currently, I have two holes in each ear. I remember my Mom saying before I got the second hole in each ear, "You already have enough holes in your head!" Of course, my Mom was a pretty no-frills woman -- makeup and perfume (Emeraude or Jean Nate) only on very special occasions, no earrings (she had gotten her ears pierced and shortly thereafter let them close up, because she couldn't be bothered with them), and no radio in her car ("I never listen to it anyway!"). Jeez, I have to put on lip gloss to go to the supermarket, even if I am wearing my "I haven't showered yet" Hello Kitty baseball cap.
Anyway, I had to get used to the whole idea of Iz getting her ears pierced before my Mom's mandated 7th grade guideline. So, I told her "We can go next week." I probably would have let her get them done earlier, but I remember being at the mall about two years ago and witnessing a six-month old getting her ears pierced. The baby was shrieking, and I almost pounded on the window and screamed, "That's child abuse!" I walked away most upset thinking that ear piercing was to be done at a time when a child was old enough to understand that sometimes you endured a little pain for such things and not so young to be thinking, "Why are you hurting me?"
As soon as Monday came around, Iz was trying to close me for a date. She then proceeded to tell me all the places you can get pierced -- ears, nose, lips, belly button, and tongue. Thank God, she stopped there and didn't mention any of the other body parts that I knew could be pierced in addition!
In the interim, I surveyed my girlfriends on when they had let their daughters get their ears pierced or were thinking about letting their daughters get their ears pierced, trying to convince myself that six-and-a-half was an acceptable age for such a thing. (Iz was only 6 once on her birthday, February 24th; Iz tracks her age incrementally, as she was six-and-a-half on August 24th. She even tried to get a cake and presents for her "half" birthday, too!) My only hesitation was that she was too young to care for them, but then I thought if I had the time to give Rover fluids every few days, then I definitely had the time to tend to Iz's ears the first few crucial weeks.
So, yesterday, we headed to Claire's at the mall for the holes-in-head deed. When we arrived, there was a young girl in the chair getting her ears pierced. I asked her Mother, "Um, how old is she?" The mother said, "Nine." I thought, "Well, Iz is six-and-a-half, which is almost nine." Obviously, I was still having doubts, though I wasn't the only one. I thought it would be good for Iz to watch this little girl get her ears done, so Iz would see that it was a pretty run-of-the-mill thing.
There was another mother with her two daughters behind us watching as well. The mother's younger daughter asked, "Mom, can I get my ears pierced today." The mother quickly said, "No. I want you to wait until your earlobes grow a bit more." Damn! Why didn't I think of that one?!
After the little girl's ears were pierced, she was told, "Don't touch your ears, because they might get infected." I said to Iz, "Remember, you need to make sure your hands are clean when you touch your ears, and you can't touch your earrings after you first get them." The expression of excitement on Iz's face changed to one of hesitation, and she asked, "Mommy, can we come back tomorrow?" I told her that was fine, and I asked her why. She said, "Because I touch my ears a lot!" We headed home shy two holes in Iz's head. :-)
This morning, I asked Iz if we were going back to Claire's today. She said, "Mommy, I'm going to wait 'til I'm six-and-three-quarters."<3
I got together with the Lovelies tonight and had the most fun I have had in ages. I have not laughed that hard, well, in ages either.
On they way home, I was thinking of a blog title for this, and all I could think of was "OMG." When I arrived home, my blackberry made its space age "bonk bonk" sound to tell me that I had email. I saw that Marcia had sent an email to all and its title was "OMG"; thus, it was meant to be. <3
Actually, it's late here, so I'm not going to write a lot tonight; but, I'm going to let Marcia be a guest author, because she said it best, short and sweet. Okay, Marcia, you're on, Babe...
I had SUCH a wonderful time!! It’s 11:55 AM and I have no idea how I am going to settle myself down and go to sleep! I can tell you one thing….I am sleeping with my razor, bracelet and chocolate! Oy..pathetic!
Love you all… Marcia Okay, I will have to explain the razor, the bracelet, and the chocolate tomorrow. And, no, it's not pathetic at all. I will save my chocolate 'til it crumbles (or Iz should happen to find it and eat it!), I wear will my friendship bracelet 'til it disintegrates, and, damn, I forgot my razor at Cathy's! And, I could have used it tomorrow, too, because once again, the guys I cycle with have less hair on their legs than me!
"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born." ~ Anais Nin
(Cathy, Laura, Marcia, Anne, Melissa, and that's me lying across everyone. BTW: Melissa, nice sweater! Is that new?!?!?!?!)
In a way, the last two months have been my happiest in quite a while and a large part of that is due to all of you. I love you all dearly, you absolutely beautiful gorgeous women you. <3
As you can tell, I love "The Night Before Christmas" poem, BUT I will not use it here tonight. :-)
Tomorrow night, I get together with Cathy, Anne, Melissa, Marcia, and Laura. Jeez, we all haven't been together since, well, it's been 25 years or more, I think.
I remember being at a toga party (I loved the 80s!) at Jim Clemmen's (sp!) house. I used a "Peanuts" sheet for my toga. Anyway, I remember Melissa and I sitting in front of Jim's parent's record player; I played "Black Water" by the Doobie Brothers. We just sat there singing it over and over again. Melissa informed me later (correct me if I'm wrong, Tunabreath) that she never liked the song that much, but I always did. Nevertheless, it has always reminded me of that night at Jim's and being with all my good friends.
Oh, yeah, and a day or two later after that party at Jim's, someone asked me if I threw up in the hamper. I don't know why I was asked, but it was so NOT me! Why am I always seen as the wild party girl? Like last Sunday, Melissa was saying to me via cell as I was traveling with the other girls in the car, "I don't want to stay out late. I'd like to be home by 8pm," and I asked everyone in the car, "Hey, since when am I seen as the party animal?" :-)
Being unemployed stinks, no, it sucks. I would LOVE to be working; however, if I hadn't been unemployed, I probably never would have connected with the Lovelies again as I have now. And, I thank the Great Cat Goddess for putting Cathy, Anne, Melissa, Marcia, and Laura back in my life again. <3
I haven't mentioned the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. in a while; thus, I didn't want you to think that I hadn't mentioned them, because I had actually found a "real" job.
I say "real" job, because when cycling with Bill, I described a possible job opportunity to him. His response was, "Jean, you know what you tell them? You tell them that you already have a job; you're part of our cycling team. We can't let you get a job!"
I laughed, and while that sounded quite good, I knew that I wouldn't be saying that to anyone in the near future; and, I'd be lucky if I could retire, like Bill, when I was 63 given the way things were in in this job market!
And, I confess that I haven't mentioned my cycling group here in a while, because, I bike with them almost EVERY day, and I fear that most of you think I've joined a cult. Okay, not a cult, but perhaps I've joined the cycling equivalent of the Hell's Angels! I felt like saying to Bill at one point today, "Remember, I am not really retired. I just play a retired person when I cycle on the rail trail!"
And, this week, I began to realize that things were piling up at home (i.e., laundry folded two days after it came out of the dryer, piles of "things to put away" piling up in corners labeled "whenever," jobs leads that I wasn't sending my resume to 10 seconds after I got the lead, and so on). Did it bother me?
Well, if you want the God's honest truth, the lack in laundry folding bothered me more than the sending my resume task; however, as I have said in an earlier blog, I've made my peace with the job struggle. Actually, I really don't struggle with the lack of a job anymore. Sure, I've been a bit down at times, but being that way doesn't make my life any better; thus, I find it's best just to keep going -- forward.
At the local greasy spoon restaurant tonight, where we had dinner before Iz's Open House at school, I heard one elderly woman ask another how she was doing. The woman said, "Well...." Then the other immediately said, "You just stand up every day and keep moving, right?" The other woman screamed, "Yes!!!!' And, they both cackled. Yes, seriously, they cackled like they were in some all-knowing and enlightened "We won't let anything get us down" coven! I so hope I get invited to "Double, double, toil and trouble" with those chicks some day. :-)
Anyway, as I said, it seemed that, like that guy in Brokeback Mountain, I wish I knew how to quit these guys on my cycling team, well, not all the time, but at least one day a week, so I could accomplish something!
In fact, at the beginning of the week, someone decided it would be great if we all hiked up Mount Monadnock together.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mount_Monadnock Err, so we're all hiking up this "mount" on October 16th. They proposed a few earlier dates, but each time I had to tell Bill that the date wasn't okay for some reason, and each time he came back and said, "We're not going without you." See, how "Saving Private Ryan" this cycling team is?!?!?!? So, today, I knew I had to be somewhere at 2pm. (Okay, I had to get my hair cut, and I'm now sporting this cute bob, but unlike Iz, who got one last week, I don't think I "look like a boy!") I asked if we could meet at 8:45, THINKING (naively so) that an earlier departure time would mean getting home earlier, but that wasn't the case. If we're out earlier, it just means we just ride longer! Nevertheless, I still can't quit biking with these people, even though I know I can bike 50 miles in 2 hours and 30 minutes, get my laundry folded, and do the "send my resume" task in under 3 hours when today it took us 4 hours to ride just 52 miles. <3
I almost crossed over an unwritten biking line today with Bob though. Bill and I met him when we were cycling back to Nashua with Leigh. He biked back with us. Leigh left for home, and Bill and I biked back toward home with Bob on the rail trail. Not too long after we left the parking lot, Bob, who had introduced me to people before as an "animal," said to me "Jean, ride ahead of me at 20 mph so I can draft you."
I laughed, and I continued along at a slower pace. After three miles, Bob (remember, he's 76!) went down on his aero bars and passed Bill and I. I looked at Bill, and he smiled. He said, "Jean, I think Bob just passed you with attitude." (I love biking with Bill; with him, I have the Dad relationship I never had growing up.) Bill slowed down, so I could pass him, and I cycled past Bob.
When I cycled past Bob, I fully expected him to get on my wheel. I was looking at my speedometer...20...21...22, and then I heard a noise, which I thought was him behind me, and I continued to crank down the rail trail. I finally looked back and saw he was about 200 yards behind me. I continued, thinking he was going to catch me, and when I knew I was near an intersection, I slowed down. I went through the intersection, stopped, and waited for Bill and Bob.
In about 10 minutes (after a short visit into the woods, which Bill divulged to me later), Bill rode up to me and said, "Where's Bob?" I told him that I didn't know. I explained what had happened, and Bill said that he didn't see Bob's bike on the way, so Bob hadn't made a pit stop like Bill. We backtracked on the trail looking for Bob, and he was nowhere to be found.
It was then that I said to Bill, "You don't think he got upset because he didn't catch me." Bill said that he might have, but that wasn't my fault. I got upset, and I said, "Well, I thought he'd get on my wheel and we'd crank down the rail trail together like we did other times." Bill told me not to fret, and that if there was a problem, it was Bob's. Bill and I continued down the trail, but no matter what he said, I felt badly the whole way home.
When we reached the end, we said good-bye and made plans to meet tomorrow (okay, maybe this IS a cult!). Bill was going to check out the well drilling in the rail trail parking lot, and I wanted to get home. To add insult to injury, after biking 52 miles, I have to bike up this hill (out of the saddle biking) to get home.
Once I was home about 15 minutes, my cell rang. It was Bill. He told me that when he arrived at the benches at the end of the trail, there sat Bob wondering where the hell we had been. Apparently, Bob had turned onto the road at that intersection, without me seeing him, and biked the roads to the end of the trail instead of biking the trail like Bill and I did.
Bill said, "Don't worry. There are no hard feelings." I said, "Why didn't he tell us he was going off like that?" Bill said, "Bob does what he wants. But, I'm pretty sure it's because he knew he couldn't keep up with you." This was something I had to get used to -- ego plus competition, plus a man who was a great cyclist but who was aging and finding it hard to lose ground and accept it. And, I told Bill, "I will never bike over 18 mph when I'm with Bob again." Bill told me not to worry. BUT, from now on, Bob will always rule the trail, and that's totally okay with me. <3
I Didn't Know They Still Made These Note:
Superman is out of a job (no more phone booths, well, at least in my town), BUT the pay phone is alive and well and living in a Bertucci's in Chelmsford, MA.
In This Horrid Economy, Guard Those Number 2s With Your Life Note: At the Open House at Iz's school tonight, I saw this label on the pencil can in her art teacher's classroom.
Nathan Describes to Me the Car That He Wants Me to Buy Him Note: It's a yellow Ferrari with racing stripes..............................with five Maine Coon kittens in the backseat. And, he just informed me that he's applying for a job at Subway on the weekends; he then said, "Yeah, Mom. You can work there with me!" Thanks, honey. I love you. <3
We started the “How many days to Halloween?” countdown about two weeks ago. Like me, Iz loves Halloween. It’s my favorite holiday; I’m pretty sure it’s one of her favorites; however, it is not her favorite yet, because she still very much fancies the holidays where gifts for her are mandatory!
We bought her costume last week. She wanted to be a princess one minute and then a witch the next. I told her that she could take her time deciding, and we would come back in a week or two. But, no, she wouldn’t hear of that. She had to get her costume then.
I feared that she’d change her mind two weeks before, so I made the prerequisite Mom statement, “Okay, but if we buy the costume now, you can’t change your mind two weeks before Halloween.” (Don’t you love those days when you say to yourself, “Jeez, I sound just like my mother!”)
Anyway, we went up and down the aisles, looking at all costumes. She said, “Yeah, I want to be a princess,” as she held the princess costume out from its hook on the wall, scrutinizing the dress, the tiara, and the scepter. Then after a few seconds of thought, she’d let the costume drop back against the wall, start to look around again, and then she’d say, “No. I want to be a witch.” This went on for about 10 minutes, and I again repeated that we could come back later and then the above-mentioned prerequisite Mom statement. She then said, “Yeah, I want to be a witch.”
Of course, what kind of a witch couldn’t you be courtesy of Target? There was Glamour Witch, Glitter Witch, Pretty Witch, Elegant Witch, Ugly Witch, and even a Princess Witch.
Note to Self: Look for PMS Witch in the adult costume aisle. Actually, does one really need a costume for that? :-)
I thought for sure she’d go for the Princess Witch, because wasn’t that the best of both worlds, but no, Glamour Witch it was, complete with broom, orange and black tights, and black boots. The black boots were especially appealing to her, because they were, as she told someone later, “high heels!”
I always dress up. Last year, I was a witch, and the year before that I was a Prom Queen. Um, here I am doing my best pink snow beast impression!
This year, I decided to go retro and be Madonna in “Desperately Seeking Susan.”
I know, really, but come on, it’s my costume fantasy!
Yesterday, Iz asked what I was going to be for Halloween. Rather than say "Madonna," I said, "A rock star." (Okay, Madonna isn’t what I consider to be a rock star, but, remember, I was dealing with a six-year-old here, so simple and general is always best when descriptions are needed!) She said, "Elvis?" I said, "No." She said, "Hannah Montana?" I said, "No. Madonna." Iz said, "Who's SHE?!" I said, "You'll see on Halloween." I like Iz’s rock star spectrum -- Elvis to Hannah Montana in 5 seconds. <3
Quite simply, I was supposed to do something "outdoors" with Marcia today. I think she was thinking a walk or something like that. And, somehow, the outdoor activity turned into a field trip to Crane Beach; okay, that may have been my idea! Then we picked up Cathy.......................and then Melissa along the way.
After crackers and crab dip, grapes, shrimp cocktail, and some wine drinking, which is totally illegal on Crane Beach (and okay, that may have been my idea, too!), we took a long walk on the beach (so long that we actually couldn't remember where we sitting!), which had us all saying, "Why has it taken us 25 years to do this?"As I said before, we've got the next 25 to make up for it. I will never forget that walk on the beach as long as I live; I love you all, and here's to this Friday night, the night of the Lovelies Reunion!<3
"...Life vanishes in the blink of an eye, and every chance we miss is gone forever, so if there is anything in your life now that is precious and sacred, I suggest you go and check to see it is still there, and if it is still there, put it in your pocket and take a long walk with it."
Today, when I sorted through the mail, most of it was junk. There was my cell phone bill, my Town&Country magazine, and then I saw an envelope from my alma mater, Brandeis. I knew what they wanted -- money.
Moments later, Nathan called me, reminding me to come to the high school hockey car wash. I asked him how much the car wash was. It wasn't that the price mattered; I just wanted to make sure I had enough money with me to pay for the car wash. Nathan told me that there was no set price; you just gave a donation. I told him that I'd be there in 30 minutes.
Given that Brandeis costs $48,648 a year now, I don't think I could ever justify giving them any money when I had previously. The thing that kills me about the dips in the economy is that college costs have never taken a hit. Maybe someone in academia can explain this to me, but why don't we ever see ads on TV from any college advertising "Hey, two years for the price of one!"
After Nathan called, I ripped the Brandeis envelope in half and pitched it in the trash, and I then headed off to the Congregational Church to get my car washed by the high school hockey team. When I pulled in, I saw Nathan, rolled down the window, and he said, "Mom, go over there."
I pulled up to a table, and the hockey coach came up to my window. I said, "I'd like to get my car washed," and then I handed him $40. He asked, "Are you sure?" I said, "Yes, of course. My son's on the team, and I want to support the team." He told me to pull my car into a designated spot, and I did.
Nathan came up to the car, and I rolled down the window. I said, "Hey, I just paid $40, so the Saab better be squeaky clean when I leave here!" Nathan said, "What? $40, Mom?" I said, "Should I get out of the car?" He said, "Most people do." I am usually not like most people, but I got out of the car. :-)
I headed toward the table that the coach was standing by. He came over to me and said, "Thanks, again. Nate's a great kid." I said, "You're welcome. Oh, he's okay." :-)
Give Brandeis $40 or give my son's hockey team $40? That was a total no brainer today and will be for the rest of my life. The car wash, the bake sale, the food pantry, the Pan Mass challenge...they'll always get my money; Brandeis won't be getting money from me anytime soon. <3
I went to see my financial planner today. He's a nice guy, but I HATE going to see him. It's not because he's a jerk in any way or has he mismanaged my money, it's just that I hate money.
As I mentioned previously, there are things I hate doing -- changing my bike tires, doing my taxes, AND managing my money.
When I go to see this guy, it's painful, because he wants to explain everything in detail. And, I'm done by the time he says, "Hi, Jean." After he says that, I just want to scream, "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it, k?!" :-)
So, when I first entered his office today, I said, "Look, I want to sell everything and put it into pork bellies." Of course, I was joking.
Of course, he didn't "get" it, and he immediately said, "You might be right. Commodities is an emerging market, especially in China!" And, did you also know that China consumes 50% of the world's concrete? Yeah, me neither, and I'm not going to lose sleep over it either.
I said him, "Err, did you see "For Pete's Sake?" He said, "No" as if it was a movie that just came out in the last six months. I said, "Well, you see, it's all about pork bellies." And he said, "Well, with China being an emerging market, you may want to invest in Monsato." God, this was how a joke goes so horribly wrong! :-)
After I said I wasn't interested in commodities (well, I was but only for the laugh factor, which was lost on him!), he looked at my portfolio and said, "Everything that is worth owning in the world, well, you own it indirectly."
Okay, so it was Friday. I didn't have a job, but I could say, "Thank, God. It's Friday, and I don't work, but I own the entire freaking world..............indirectly!" He went over EVERY fund with me, and come to find out, I am invested in BRIC - Brazil, Russia, India, and China.
At the end of the day, I don't really care about money. Well, I have earned it, I spend it, and I invest it, but I'd rather not spend time thinking about what to do with it as far as investments go.
At this point in my life, the most important things are the emotional investments. And, this past week, after seeing Tunabreath and Marcia, I knew I already owned a piece of everything in the world that was worth owning..........directly! So, his news wasn't new news to me. Lastly, I knew "A Little Bit of Everything" was the title of the next chapter in my life. <3 Person Who Wins the Homemade Cookies Because He Dared to Use a Photo Instead of the Boring White, Black, and Gray Mug Shot: Jeff! Chocolate Peanut Butter Bars, right?! <3 http://allrecipes.com/Recipe/Chocolate-Peanut-Butter-Bars-I/Detail.aspx
I think that most everyone expects their life to go in a certain direction or has some idea of the direction that it will go in. And for most, a job usually helps to lead them in that direction. It’s a whole different situation when you lose your job, especially if that job has largely defined who you are and has been something you have loved doing for a large portion of your life. When you lose your job, it’s very easy to lose your direction professionally, financially and, most importantly, emotionally.
Yes, you are still a Mom/Dad, a brother/sister, a friend or maybe you’re just a plain old pain in the ass. :-) But, without your job, you’re not a “engineer,” “technical writer,” or an “inside sales account executive.” Well, you are, because that’s what you do, and that’s what you have to write on your tax returns as your occupation. But, without a job, it’s easy to feel that you’ve lost your definition; thus, when you look up yourself in the mental Dictionary of Life, this is the picture that appears next to your name.
My apologies to those of you who have this as your blog picture; but come on, go wild and use a picture, even if it’s not of you, because life is that much better when it’s not in black, white, and gray tones and reminiscent of a mug shot! The first follower, who is local and uses a real picture, instead of this one, gets a batch of homemade cookies of his/her choosing! :-)
Yesterday, I got email from my friend, Marcia. She is one of the “Lovelies” which comprise Anne, Cathy, Laura, Melissa (a.k.a. Tunabreath), and moi. In a nutshell, she was disappointed in her job search; it was a mini-rant, and believe me, I am good at those, too! I read it, and I knew exactly how she felt. She and I had both gotten laid off in February.
It was a busy day, and I thought I’d call her at the “right” time (i.e., no distractions and could give her my undivided attention); however, it never seemed to be the “right” time, given that I was running around all afternoon and then doing my early evening routine, which consisted of transporting children, making school lunches, feeding children, bathing children, feeding pets, and cleaning cat boxes.
I then got a second email from her asking me if she offended me. And, that point, I knew that there would probably never be a “right” time to call, and I didn’t want her to think that I was offended in the least, so I called her. I apologized for not contacting her sooner in the day, and we ended up on the phone for quite some time until I had to leave to fetch Nathan from his away soccer game at the high school.
Again, like with Melissa, Marcia and I had not talked to each other in years (over 16), but as she told me about her frustrations with her job search and about her life, it was like we had never stopped being friends either. At the end of the conversation, we decided that we would try and get together today.
At 8:30 this morning, Bill texted me about a ride. By the time I got off the phone with the lovely Tunabreath, who had called me after a text message this morning, it was 9:30. I wanted to ride, but then I thought, “I need to go see Marcia today more than I need to bike.” So, I texted Bill back and said that I wouldn’t be riding today.
I called Marcia, and I had to laugh because she said something like, “Well, I’m in my pajamas, and I’m not cleaning my house, okay?” and I said, “Well, that’s just fine, because I’m not showering; I’m just throwing on my Hello Kitty hat and medicating with some deodorant and perfume, okay?” I swear, if I had shown up in a robe and fuzzy pink slippers, Marcia wouldn’t have batted an eyelash nor would have I if she opened the front door wearing the same ensemble. In about 20 minutes, I was on my way to her house for tea.
When I arrived, Marcia ran out to greet me, and we embraced. We chatted forever at her house, went for lunch, and I finally had to leave to pick up Iz. We talked about many things, but I think one of the things that we both agreed on was that when unemployed, you always had to get yourself out of the house and moving.
I feel that in the last two days, my life has changed significantly in that I am writing a new chapter in my life. As I said before, the job will come when it comes, and I don’t believe that will be for a while yet; however, in the mean time, if I can’t make a job happen, then I am going to make my life happen. And, my life has happened so much, especially in the last two months.
While I worry about not having a job and all that goes with it, I have seen, especially lately, that my life is still going in a direction, a direction I never thought it could – one where I spend more times with my kids, write for “fun”, see friends often, and bike whenever I want. In a way, unemployment, though a dark chapter, is writing a wonderful chapter in a new book for me, and every day I don't work, I write that book. And while my life remains on hold, it still has direction and purpose.
It was wonderful to be with you today, Marcia. <3
Things to Do with Your Cat When Halloween is Right Around the Corner: Test drive costumes! I think Liam is a very Happy Rooster, don’t you?
I went "home" today. I went back to the town I grew up in.
I didn't have to go to the dentist. Usually, that's the only reason why I go "home." Today, I was meeting Melissa, a friend that I had not seen or talked to in 12 years (http://goddessofallthingslovely.blogspot.com/2009/08/now-that-ive-found-you.html). I chose Sudbury as the place to meet, well, because it just seemed appropriate; it's where we grew up and spent most of our time together. We arranged to meet at Starbucks at 11:30.
She had emailed me with her cell number in the morning in case I needed to reach her, and I, in turn, I had texted her in the morning with my cell number just in case.
When I arrived at Starbucks, I got a text from her saying she was running late. I texted her and told her to take her time, and then just to bust her chops, minutes later, I texted her and said, "Hurry up! I have to pee!" I sat outside Starbuck's, and then I saw a car pull into the parking lot driven by blonde who was waving madly at me. I didn't even wait for her to me. I ran toward her car.
She got out and the first thing I noticed where her little animal-print Dansko clogs on her cute little small feet. I laughed. She turned around, and my God, it was so good to see her again. She had not changed one bit. We hugged, and I kept saying over and over again, "You look so beautiful!" And she did.
People die and you lose them from your life; most of us know exactly how that loss feels. But if you can reverse that horrible feeling of loss, that is exactly how I felt at that moment with Melissa; it felt like I had just got someone back who I thought I had lost forever. People who have had near death experiences say they see a light. I did too; and it was in Melissa's face the very moment I saw her.
After many tears, we went into Starbucks, ordered coffee, and caught up. After only two minutes, she said that it felt like we never had been apart; and, I agreed. It did not seem like there was 12 years between us; at the most, it seemed like it was only 12 minutes.
The funny thing was when she would say, "And, remember when...." Of course, I didn't, but I think that is why as you get older, it's good to have friends that you've known most of your life. They fill in the blanks you find that have gone missing in your memory; thus, only with them are you complete..................and completely sane. :-)
Unfortunately, she had to leave earlier than expected to pick up her son; we said good-bye, though it seemed we could not stop talking long enough to say good-bye. Before I left her, I made a comment about someone, which I thought went something like "I just don't dig her mojo." Melissa repeated what I said and howled. I said, "Oh, God. I'm never going to live that down, am I?"
As I walked off to my car, she shouted something and waved her hand. I ran back, and she said, "I have my cell. Call me if you want and we can keep talking." Once I made my way out of the parking lot, I called her back. Of course, what is the first thing she said when she saw it was me calling? She said, "I just don't dig her mojo," and she laughed hysterically. I started laughing. Yeah, nothing had changed; and that was a very, very good thing.
When she arrived at her destination, we got off the phone. I had arrived at mine, too -- the cemetery. I always see my parents when in Sudbury. And, no, it's not a sad thing. Well, it was some time ago, but believe it or not, many times I come here and sit with them to feel better when I am sad.
I walked around the cemetery with my camera, taking pictures, and I realized that while I could never really go home again, because my parents were deceased combined with the fact that I could never afford to own a home in Sudbury, I did find "home" today -- in Melissa. And, that realization came in the form of this quote on one headstone I happened across in the cemetery:
And, I'm going with that tonight. When life is too much, roll with it, Baby!
When life is too much, roll with it, baby Don't stop and lose your touch, oh no, baby Hard times knocking on your door, I'll tell them you aint there no more Get on through it, roll with it, baby Luck'll come and then slip away, you've gotta move, bring it back to stay You just roll with it, baby, come on and just roll with it, baby You and me, roll with it, baby, hang on and just roll with it, baby The way that you love is good as money I swear by stars above, sweet as honey People think you're down and out, you show them what it's all about You can make it, roll with it, baby When this world turns its back on you, hang in and do that sweet thing you do You just roll with it, baby, you just roll with it, baby Come on and just roll with it, baby, you and me, just roll with it, baby Now there'll be a day you'll get there, baby, you'll hear the music play, you'll dance, baby You'll leave bad times way behind, nothing but good times on your mind You can do it, roll with it, baby Then you'll see life will be so nice, it's just a step up to paradise You just roll with it, baby, you just roll with it, baby You and me, just roll with it, baby, come on and just roll with it, baby
Today, I just rolled with it...right on down the rail trail and back roads for about 40 miles with Bill, Jeff, and Leigh. <3
It had been a while (largely due to rain), but I went out biking today with the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd.
I met Jeff on the trail at 10am, and then he gave me the rider update when I met him -- "Leigh and Jim will be meeting up with us somewhere on the trail." Right before Pepperell, we met Leigh and Jim. As usual, we stopped, Bill chatted, and then after 10 minutes of conversation, Leigh said out loud what I was thinking, "Can we talk and ride?" Jeez, you guys think we chicks are chatty; in our group, it's totally the other way around! :-)
So, we headed up the trail, and we decided to ride a route that led us by the Clover Farm Market for Squannacookies; alas, upon arrival, the cookies were in the making, so there would be no cookies today. We settled for alternate baked goods when we got there much to Bill's dismay.
After getting back on our bikes and cycling several miles, we ended back on the trail where we bumped into Bob. I hadn't ridden with Bob in weeks. At one point, he zoomed past me. I yelled back to Bill, "He passed me with attitude." And, so I did exactly what Bob would do in this situation even though it was Bob who had passed me! I sped up and caught him! We lost Jim in the pursuit, so I let Bob go on ahead. I'm all for fast, but then I'm all for "Saving Private Ryan" too. :-)
By the time we got to the parking lot in Nashua, Jim was packing it in, and Bob decided to "bike" Leigh the three miles home to her house; thus, Bill and I headed back down the trail. At that point, we had biked 38 miles, and we had another 12.5 to go to head home.
While cycling home we chatted away, but not before bumping into Jeff. Of course, we had to stop and chat. As I told you, this biking is about exercise, but there's also a HUGE and wonderful social element about it, too.
On the way home, I told Bill that whenever I tell Iz that I am going out biking, she always says, "Again?!?!?!" He laughed, and then I said, "Lately, I feel like I live on the rail trail." Bill said, "But, you do!"
When we had almost reached the end of the rail trail, well, our end of it, Bill looked down at his odometer and said, "Hey, you must have 50 miles now!" I looked down and said, "I have 49.50." He said, "Well, by the time you get home, you should have 50!"
We took a left onto Groton Street, instead of heading to the parking lot, because we both were heading directly home. And then I said to Bill, "Never mind the mileage; I can't believe I was just on a bike for four and a half hours!" Bill said, "It’s not really about the mileage; it’s more about time spent in the saddle."
After I got home, I got Iz off the bus, and we took Monty for a walk in the woods. And you know, while I really want to work again, I'm glad I know that this will always be THE most wonderful job I have.
And, most importantly, thanks Bill, Jim, Leigh, Bob, and Jeff for keeping me in the saddle instead of glued to my laptop 24/7, looking for a job that I know realistically is not going to be there for quite a while. <3
Tough Times Have Put More People Out of Work Than You Know Note: Look, even Superman got laid off! :-)
Remember mood rings? Well, this must be a mood t-shirt, though, unlike the mood ring, you have to pick one mood and stick with it all day; of course, you could choose to change your t-shirt or, even better, decide to dust off your mood ring and put it on instead for a 24/7 accurate mood forecast.
I can just imagine Isabelle looking at my ring. "Oh, jeez, I so want another popsicle, but Mommy's ring is black. I'd better ask Nathan instead!"
I have one mood t-shirt.
Most men I know cringe when they see it. :-)
"Green" God Talk:
I saw this on a sign outside a church today.
"This church is soular-powered by the Son."
It's Time to Try a New Kind of Bike Talk:
Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. Talk from the Ride Today:
"Some ass is nice but nobody likes a wise ass."
Comment from one cyclist to another, who had obviously just made a wise ass comment to him. "It's always good to do it with someone."
Err, a comment made to me after I told one cyclist that riding a century alone would be no fun. Out of the Mouths of Babes Talk:
Tonight, when Iz was in the tub, she asked me why people lose their voices. I said, "Well, sometimes people lose their voices when they're sick. It's called laryngitis. And, then sometimes people lose their voices when they talk too much." She then said quite puzzled, "But, Mommy, I talk too much, and I haven't lost my voice."
Yes, you do. No, you haven't. And, that truly is amazing!<3
Here comes the game face... . . . . . . . . . . Wait for it.... . . . . . . . . . . Wait for it... . . . . . . . . . . It's coming... . . . . . . . . . . It's almost here... . . . . . . . . . . Aren't you excited? . . . . . . . . . . I know I am. . . . . . . . . . . Don't you love the anticipation? . . . . . . . . . . I know I do! . . . . . . . . . . Here it is... . . . . . . . . . . Voila!
Okay, that's not our game face; however, that is what I think "Crazy Aunt Isabelle" will look like when she's 80.. . . . . . . . . . Twas the night before the first “away” football game, when all through my home, I ran about trying to prepare thinking “This would make a good poem!”
The game in question was an hour and a half away, oh, great! So, we’d have to leave shortly after dawn to be there by 8!
A dinner of spaghetti was served at 5pm to the cheerleader girlie, In hopes of getting her into bed very early.
But before bed, we had to adhere to cheerleader code 1209-103b, which made Iz quite angry. I told Iz it was a small price to pay in order to say “Hooray!” Thus, it was time to abolish, according to the Cheerleader Gods, the purple polish!
Finally, Iz was snuggled all safe in her bed, while I’m sure chants of “oooh, shaga, laga” went through her head.
The directions were stuffed in my purse with care so they didn’t slip my mind, Because it would be disastrous to start out and leave them behind! And, since we were going far, I also packed a few granola bars.
The coffee maker was set up to brew its mix, and this would happen at six. One less thing in the morning I would have to make, but the most important thing to keep me awake!
The cheerleader uniform was laid out to wait for the cheerleader girlie who would probably tomorrow much prefer to sleep in late!
Cheerleader code dictates white socks, which do so not rock. And so sat the sneaks right by the door, because in light of last week, “I will forget shoes no more!”
Rubber band, barrettes, and purple and white hair ribbons, don’t let us fail, When tomorrow morning, we attempt to make the perfect pony tail!
Last but not least on this trip, I enlisted another, Who just happens to be cheerleader girlie’s brother.
Come with me on another adventure; you know it'll be fun for sure! Alas, there’s no BIG lipstick; you just get to watch your sister jump up and down like a crazy chick! He looked at me funny like he just may, and then he said, "Okay!"
Okay, what guy didn’t think Belinda Carlisle was totally hot then?! Gawd, I’m a woman, and I thought she was! :-)
Anyway…
Vacation All I ever wanted Vacation Had to get away Vacation Meant to be spent alone
I’m taking a vacation from my blog. Yes, really. I’ll see you all on Saturday. Yes, yes, I know, whatever will you read with your coffee on Saturday morning? Try these! I'm sure they're not as interesting as mine, but these are tough times, okay? :-)
Okay, pants on fire. That is not me now; that was me when I was in Las Vegas last year. Did I ever tell you about my stint as a Las Vegas Booth Babe? I would tell you, but as you know, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, Baby! Unfortunately though, nothing from my experience needed to stay there; therefore, I may divulge all the sordid* details over the weekend.
*For example, how I dropped my “Marketing for Dummies” book in the bathtub, stupidly wore brand new black pumps to the trade show (walk-crippling BLISTERS ensued!), and how my toilet paper froze.
Oh, wait a sec – wrong trip! The frozen toilet paper was a side effect of my “Outdoor Pursuit" trip in the Fall of ’77 when I was 15 and hiked the Long Trail in Vermont for a week with a bunch of other kids from my high school.
On that trip, I shared a tent with this girl named Chris. We also shared a double locker. She plastered our locker with pictures from Smithsonian magazine. (I was reading "Seventeen" then!) I thought she was a total geek, though she’s probably the person who invented Viagra or some miracle drug like that. Anyway, Chris told me my first dirty joke. Yep. I don’t remember it exactly, but the punch line included the word “organ” and was, err, somehow related to guys.
BUT, I digress as usual. See you all on Saturday, and thanks to all of you for reading.
A Special Thanks Today to Youse Guys Note: Tommie, TomS, Trite&Patronizing, and Jeff. <3 Tommie, I know you’re not that much older than me, but will you be my mother?! I have a vacancy, I’ve looked at your resume, and Donald Trump says, "You’re hired!" Suffice it to say, you’re a beautiful girl.
I forgot to tell you last night, but today was a Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. field trip! There were no permission slips, but I felt like I needed one.
Bill orchestrated this wonderful trip into Boston, starting at the Minuteman Bikeway in Bedford.
Funny, how the same trail in my neck of the woods is a "rail trail," but in a the posh community of Bedford, it's a...tip nose up in air..."bikeway!" :-)
Bill's wife works in Boston every now and then. On occasion, he rides in to have lunch with her. Earlier in the week, he thought that instead of riding by himself, he could ride with company; thus, he invited Jim, Jeff, me, and Leigh to join him on this excursion.
Bill's wife had a bunch of "free lunch coupons," given that certain restaurants want her work to order lunches from them; thus, she was going to be buying us lunch with these coupons. Last night, Bill sent out the link to the menu, and we all picked our luncheon choices. On Wednesday morning, we were to meet at the rail, oh, excuse me, BIKEWAY in Bedford at 10am.
This morning, I put my bike on my rack on the car, filled my water bottles, restocked my granola bars in my little plastic baggie with my $9.50 for emergencies, got my gloves, my helmet, put on my pink skull-n-crossbone socks, put on my Crocs (yes, Crocs with socks, but you can SO get away with it when you're a cyclist!), and I left the house.
At about 9:45am, I looked around the car, and I realized..................................SH*T!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.......................I had remembered everything, except for my cycling shoes! I had done this once before. You'd think that I would end up doing this a second time, but there I was almost to Bedford without my cycling shoes!
When I was 5 minutes away from the "bikeway," I called Bill. He answered, and I said, "Bill, I can't bike with you guys today. I left my shoes at home!" Bill asked, "Where are you?" I said, "About five minutes away." He said, "Just come here, and we'll think of something. There's a bike store here. Maybe they have a pair of shoes you can borrow. Meet us in the parking lot!" I said, "Okay, I'll do that. But, I think I've totally screwed up here." Bill said, "No. Meet us in the parking lot!"
Five minutes later, I turned into the parking lot, and Bill, Jim, Jeff, and Leigh greeted me. (God, I love these people!) Jim said, "I could give you my sneakers and you could try riding that way." I said, "I don't think that's going to work to well with my clipless pedals."
Bill said, "The bike shop over there opens in 6 minutes. Let's go over now." I whispered to Bill, "Really, you don't have to wait for me, because I screwed up. You guys go, okay?" Bill said, "No. We're not leaving you behind." Just then I felt like I was in the movie "Saving Private Ryan."
We all walked across the road with our bikes and parked them outside the shop. We peered in the window at 10:05am, wondering when the shop owner would open the door. Ironically, while waiting, we noticed that Sidi, Mavic, and Shimano shoes were on sale!
At 10:08am, we saw a guy turn on lights and start up the register, but he didn't open our door. Just then Jeff said, "Well, maybe there's another door!" Jeff and I went around to the right of the building, and lo and behold, we found a door that said "OPEN" on it. We entered. Just then the "guy" opened the rear door at which we had all been waiting.
When I encountered the "guy," and said, "I forgot my cycling shoes, so do you rent them?" He looked at me like I was crazy, as I knew he would. I then said, "Err, do you have any cycling shoes in a woman's size 11." He frowned. At that point, I said, "Look, I don't care if they're men's shoes." He left and came back with a few boxes.
As I sat there trying on my shoes, Leigh, the other female cyclist, who is a Rock Star hill climber, saw THE pair of shoes that she had wanted for a very long time; err, her current cycling shoes were FIFTEEN years old). They were a pair of Sidi shoes, and she asked the guym, "Hey, do you have these in a 6.5?" At the bike store in her neck of the woods, they were $200; here, they were 50% off!
I had to try on several different pairs over 15 minutes, but I finally found a pair of Mavics that were (Goldilocks speak here) "just right." Leigh fell in love with her shoes before I did, whipped out her credit card, and she had new shoes before I did!
The funny thing was that I had said to Bill that I needed new shoes since I met him. Err, if you have all been following my blog, you'd know that the top strap on my right shoe does NOT remained velcroed! I kept telling Bill every day we rode, "I really need to get new shoes."
At that point, I felt horribly guilty because I had kept them all waiting, but then I was equally amused, because Leigh found the shoes of her dreams at a price that her wallet could afford.
Bill assured me that they were not going anywhere without me, and by 10:35am, both Leigh and I had new shoes and were ready to bike into Boston, because the stars aligned.
Anyway, if you've read previous blogs, you know that once upon a time my gears were squeaky; well, after my gears became unsqueaky, it was apparent that my shoes were squeaky a few days ago. After riding two miles with my new cycling shoes today, I said to Bill, "Hey, did you notice that? My shoes aren't squeaky anymore!" And, he laughed.
We biked from Bedford to Arlington, and then we reached Boston. How? I have no idea how?! But, we did. And, if my Bucket List was to bike on Mass Ave, Storrow Drive, and the McGrath highway, well...been there; done that, okay! :-)
At around noon, Bill's wife called wondering where we were. He said, "We're about 5 minutes away." We biked on and Bill said to me, "Jean, there's the Garden!' Okay, it wasn't really the "Garden" anymore. TD Garden, it was. Am I the only one that thinks that Boston Garden is still that much better than "TD Garden?" Tom, you agree, yeah? :-)
Finally, we met Bill's wife outside her building all our ordered lunches. She was just too lovely, providing lunch for all of us; however, it was like a Homeland Security nightmare when she tried to get us all into her building to pee after we had lunch, because they wanted IDs from all of us. And, we had all left them in Bedford with our cars!
After eating, we biked off, and I have to tell you that biking through the streets of Boston was a bit of a high. As we cycled through one intersection, I yelled back at Leigh, "We're not in Kansas anymore!'
When we finally arrived back in the parking lot in Bedford, we had cycled 35 miles. I found that hard to believe, but it was true. We all chit-chatted, and then I said to Bill, "Thank you so much for waiting for me this morning." He said, "We wouldn't have left you." Then he paused and said, "No, we wouldn't have even thought of going anywhere without you, Jean." <3 Rover Health Note: She now has pancreatitis, kidney disease, her thyroid has worsened, her phosphorus is high, and she might have hypertension. I will keep her comfortable. Thanks, Tommie and Suzebabe.
As you all know, Bill dislikes cats because they are sneaky, don't come when you call them, and look at you funny when you undress! When Bill and I rode along today, I told him that I needed to get back by 2pm to take Rover, my 20-year-old cat, to the vet. The last few days, she's not been eating and has lost a significant amount of weight.
I called the vet's office this morning, and they fit her in at 2:50pm. Rover is diabetic; I even gave her shots for a period of time until they came out with diabetic cat food. Then she developed a thyroid problem, so she is also on thyroid medication twice a day now. And, she's always been a temperamental about sharing a litter box; she has been known to pee on the basement floor to show her disgust at sharing a litter box with the two guys, Thunderbolt and Liam. I guess they always left the seat up or something like that!
To try and curb the temperamental peeing problem, I began to put her into Monty's old puppy crate at night two years ago. It is equipped with a litter box, food and water, a comfy blanket, 24/7 access to all the Lawrence Welk shows, and a mini shuffleboard court. I call it her condo in Boca Raton!
After a few weeks of being in the crate, she'd come in from outside, trot down to the basement, go inside it, and sit there and wait for me to tuck her in. I think Rover was always meant to be an only cat, and I ruined it by inviting every stray to come stay with us and adopting from foreign cat shelters!
Rover was born in Connecticut in March of 1989. My sister found a stray in her apartment complex; she took the stray in and named her "Scruffy." Scruffy was pregnant, and even though the apartment complex did not allow pets, she and her husband kept Scruffy warm and safe and saw her through her pregnancy. Several kittens were born, and they, like Scruffy, were all polydactyls.
(Remember: I try not only be humorous but educational, too!)
At the time, I already had two cats, and I remember my sister telling me about Scruffy. After the kittens were born, I remember her calling me and saying, "Jean, I have a really cute male here with double paws! I think he's going to be really big!" I had made the mistake of confessing to her at one point that my feline-owning life would not be complete if I didn't own a big double-pawed male cat at some point. So, I caved to my sister's kitten pitch.
When Nathan's Dad and I were looking for houses, we'd do a drive by of any home we were interested in and he would say, "No, that's not a cat neighborhood or good a Rover." As I remember, Rover was his term for dog. I said, "When we get our next cat, we should call it Rover!"
And, it was so written that I would drive to Connecticut, fetch this kitten, and he would be a mammoth feline with HUGE feet called Rover. After returning with my kitten, my friend, Melissa, a veterinarian, came by to check on her. I remember Melissa picking up Rover, flipping up her tail, and saying to me, "Jean, this isn't a little boy; it's a little girl!" Yeah, my sister was good at many things, but she wasn't good at feline sex identification!
(The ironic thing was that my sister kept a kitten, which she correctly identified as male, and named it Jasper. Jasper turned out to be a HUGE male with HUGE paws! We always laughed about this later.)
As Rover grew, well, it was apparent that the "little" in Melissa's "little girl" description was valid. Rover was a petite but always round feline with these HUGE paws. She was built like a little tank. And, boy, was she tough, which helped her immensely, because she used up a few of her nine lives along the way.
She got hit by a car one night, and we had to keep her in a crate for a few months while she healed; our vet wasn't optimistic, but Rover made a miraculous recovery. A few years later, I couldn't find her one night. I called and called. I was never one to leave my cats out at night. I always had them in before the sun went down. But, she never came home. I put up signs, but there was no sign of Rover for a week, then another, and then finally, I gave up, thinking something horrible had happened to her. I took Nathan to the cat shelter, and we got a new kitty to replace her; this was Thunderbolt.
About 5 weeks after she disappeared, my boyfriend and I were standing in the living room of my house; he had just arrived home from a business trip. There was a slider to a porch by my kitchen table. He glanced toward the slider door and asked me, "Who's that?" I took one look, saw a little furry tiger face in the window, and I said, "OMG! That's Rover!" Then I stammered, "But, Rover, that can't be you, because we've already replaced you!" I opened the door and in walked Rover, though she was a few pounds lighter. I surmised that she must have gotten locked in someone's shed or basement; God only knows how she survived. But, there she was!
I fed her, but having not eaten in so long, she immediately had digestive issues, so I took her to my vet the next day. I was trying to tell the vet Rover's story when the vet asked me, "Well, are you sure this is Rover?" which I found to be an odd question. I said, "Well, this cat came to my door wearing Rover's collar, so are you trying to suggest that Rover may have been mugged for her collar or had her identity stolen by this cat?" Needless to say, I never went to that vet again.
When I was in the later stages of my pregnancy with Isabelle, I'd go to bed, and that's when Isabelle became restless, sloshing around inside me. (God, I loved that part of pregnancy the best -- when you lie there on your back, and it looks like your stomach should have a starring role in the movie "Alien!")
Before Rover's Boca Raton condo days, she'd jump up on the bed, come to the top of the covers, and then ask to come under the covers and sleep next to me. On those nights that Isabelle was most active, Rover would come under and then nestle down next to me with her back against my tummy. (Rover has the loudest purr, which the vet and vet tech remarked on today as they always do.) Rover would start to purr, and within minutes, Isabelle would stop moving around wildly inside me and go to sleep. It was as if Rover tucked in Isabelle on those nights with a purring lullaby.
Anyway, once they had Rover in the exam room today, they checked her out from purring head to HUGE polydactyl toes. Her heart was beating fast, she was dehydrated, and she was down to 4.2 pounds. The vet asked if I wanted to run blood tests to check her thyroid; I said I would. They also wanted to give her fluids. The vet, who's not my favorite at the practice, only because she wants you to do everything to save your animal without really considering all the circumstances, asked if I'd be willing to do some kind of heart scan for $350. (I remember working with an engineer at HP who had a $200 limit on all animal expenses. I know he didn't really mean it, but he was fond of saying, "Hey, if it's over $200, forget it!) I told her that I would not do the heart scan. I said, "I have two other cats, a dog, and I'm unemployed. And, she's 20 years old!"
Today, I found myself in a difficult spot. I wanted to get her hydrated and see what was going on; however, at the same time, she IS 20 years old. (Rover is my longest loving relationship and probably always will be at this rate.) I told her that I would like to do the blood tests and hydrate her; however, if the tests revealed that her thyroid condition had worsened or she now had a heart condition, that I couldn't really justify spending hundreds of dollars to address the issues. I was practically crying when I said this, and I had thought about it all day; it's really hard to know when to let go, and it's even harder to feel "okay" about it.
Bill had told me that he had two dogs. And when I asked if he still had pets, he told me that when he lost his dogs it was so horrible that he decided that it was easier not to have pets than to ever have to go through that loss again. I wouldn't agree,, because I think it is better to love and lose over and over than to ever be without a furry creature sitting in your lap or barking when you come home at night. Okay, maybe not the barking, but I do like the wagging tail and the "I'm so happy to see you" look.
I know that many people go to great lengths to keep their ailing pets alive, but I figure that Rover has lived 20 good years, well, except for getting hit by the car and being locked away somewhere for 5 weeks. After telling the vet how I felt, and I felt horrible. I needed someone to say, "It's okay to let go," if you feel that is what you need to do. And, I cried the whole way home in the car, because I couldn't tell myself it was okay to let go.
I had to euthanize my beloved cat, Caesar, a few years ago. He was a feral in my neighborhood. I trapped him on my porch in a havaheart with sardines for bait. He was such a wonderful cat, and I knew he had a heart issue from the get go. One day, he had a stroke and became paralyzed. My vet said it was unlikely he would ever recover, so I put him to sleep.
Somehow with Rover, it seems different, because all her parts work but just not that well anymore; she has been with me through thick and thin for 20 years. I remember when I first got divorced, she'd climb up on my chest, fall asleep there, and purr loudly, her lullaby for me then. Whatever happens, it's not going to be easy. I do hope that when I get there, I can let go knowing that I did everything I could for her. <3
Jean Childhood Tangent Note: When I was little, I used to sing into the garden hose in the backyard. My Mom said I was always singing this song. Whoa, whoa, whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa, whoa-whoa-whoa! I love that part, can you tell?!
Today, I introduced my neighbor, John, to the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. I hope he forgives me eventually! We met Bill on the rail trail at 10am, cycled off down the trail, and then eventually found Jim along the way.
We stopped for a small chit-chat, and then out of nowhere, Bill said that I could never be a cat, because my bike was too noisy; therefore, I was not "sneaky," which is one of his most hated cat traits! I protested, "But, I just had my bike tuned up!" Bill told me that the guy I took it to was okay for kids' bikes, but he didn't think he was the right person for "good" bikes. I had to agree, because I even noticed that when I switched gears things rattled and hummed.
Bill examined my chain when we were standing there, and he said that I could use some grease. Okay, I was not a good bike maintenance person; well, I wasn't a bike maintenance person at all. Jim said that if we were to make our way back to the parking lot, he had some grease. And, so we left the rail trail and biked on. John seemed to fit right in as far as the pace went, and he definitely fit in as far as personalities went and even professions. John is a plumber, and Jim is a retired plumber and worked for the Boston Globe for 25 years.
Once we arrived at the parking lot, Jim took my bike, dripped some grease over the chain, and then told me to test drive it. I rode around, and when I shifted, I didn't hear a thing. BUT now that my gears didn't rattle and hum, I had another problem. My shoes squeaked. BUT, I was now closer to being a "sneaky" cat than I ever was! I rode by Bill and said, "Hey, you don't hear me, do you?!?!?!" Bill laughed. The squeaky gears get the grease; and it's amazing what happens when they do.
We rode off to cycle the back roads of Hollis, and I had a request to stop at the vintage variety store in West Groton for lunch. Bill said that we'd go here, there, and here again, and we'd finally make our way to West Groton.
I had been biking with the Fabulous and Fifty-Plus Cycling Dudes, Ltd. now for two weeks now or had it been two months? However long it was, it seemed like they were part of my DNA strand now. No matter how depressing the last six months had been without a job, the short time spent with them had wiped that all out. And, if I were to die next year, I'd say that this has been the best six months of my life. Being with my kids, having lunch with my friends, going out sailing, writing my heart out every day, and biking with the Dudes -- this is living life LARGE.
Bill led the ride, but today, unlike other days, he kept testing me at each intersection. "Jean, do you know where you are? What do we do here?" I'd answer, "Pepperell! Go left then right, and watch for traffic!" He'd say, "Good!"
Then at another intersection he'd ask me, "Jean, what do we do here?" I'd answer, "Go left and watch for gravel." He'd say, "Yes, that's right. Now I don't have to worry about you!"
At yet another intersection, he asked me where we were going. I said, "We take a left and watch for traffic." He replied, "No. We go straight. You'd only take a left if you wanted to try and find those guys with the attitude that you caught up with last week!"
I laughed, and after we crossed the road, Bill said, "Do you know why I like you, Jean?" I said, "No" a bit surprised that Bill was even telling me why he liked me. (But, I have since realized that really good men tell you why they like you; and, I have to get used to this concept!) He said, "Because you're tough, and you're not afraid of a little competition, Jean." My heart swelled. It was all I could do to not get off my bike, hug Bill, and cry. Instead, I said, "Thank you very much, Bill," even thought I still wanted to get off of my bike, hug him, and cry. :-)
We rode on through Hollis, and at one point, I heard a crash. John hit Jim's rear wheel and he took a spill. His leg was bleeding, and it looked like he landed on his arm. But, he got up, shook it off, and continued to ride with us. And as Bill says, "Pain is temporary; pride is forever!" I gave John a lot of credit, because it was only his second time out biking this year. Last year, he had been all over the rail trail like an "animal" AND walked six miles every day.
At one point, Bill said he wasn't sure of how to navigate back to West Groton. So, we followed him, never doubting him, until we rode down one long road (TOTALLY downhill) which ended in a dead end dirt road; yes, we had to bike all the way up the hill we just flew down. I had mumbled "Mutiny!" under my breath, but I so wanted to give Bill a navigational chance, even though we had just biked up and down every freakining hill in Pepperell and Dunstable before this point!
Thus, we went right when we should have gone left, and we were finally on the path to West Groton. As we passed through West Groton, a firemen's muster was going on. We were all starving at that point. Bill mentioned stopping for lobster, but it looked too crowded. I still had my heart set on the little store in West Groton. When we finally passed it, I saw the "Closed" sign and shrieked in horror, "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"
We all stopped in the little park across the street from the store, and I said, "Well, there's always Tiny's." Jim mentioned that he was hungry, but he didn't want to devour his Swiss cheese sandwich with the Grey Poupon mustard in front of us. Bill said, "Let's bike home, but we have to bike up another hill." I groaned. I was ready to call for the sag wagon at that point!
As we biked by Tiny's, I shouted out to Bill, "Nooooooooooooooooooo!" It was closed, too. Bill laughed, and we cycled to the parking lot; Jim met us there a few minutes later. We waited for John, and Bill said, "We kicked the snot out of him; I hope he comes back." That was THE hardest ride I ever did with those guys, so I felt badly that that was John's first with us. And considering John hadn't biked in ages, he did really well. John showed up a few minutes later, and he shook hands with Bill and Jim.
John and I said good-bye and rode home. I told John that that was one of the hardest rides I'd ever been on, so I hoped he didn't think it was like that every day. I also told him that these rides had been a godsend for me. That is, getting out of the house at 9:30 every morning and biking my ass off made me a lot less depressed than I had been previously.
Though, by now, it was more than that for me; I just loved these guys - Bill, Jim, Bob, and Jeff. I didn't say this to John, but Bill had said it moments before John arrived in parking lot when he was feeling badly about the brutal ride's effect on John; Bill said, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right?" In the beginning, these rides killed me, but as of late, I realized that they had made me stronger on all levels. So, I said, "Yes, Bill. I wholeheartedly agree." <3
I am a devoted mother of two wonderful children, a writer (technical by day and creative by night), an avid baker and crock pot goddess (♥ Sucra), a runner and a cyclist, a rescuer of pets, a vintage fashionista, and a dispenser of social glue.
