I'm such a slacker!

I started this blog in February of 2007 as a way to write down stories about my family for my kids and grandkids. There seemed to be so many colorful stories and I didn't want any of those memories to fade after I'm gone.

And I did pretty well for a couple of years! Stories about family history morphed into more current blogs about everyday life. And then came Facebook and suddenly it was easier to relay something with a few words and a photo or two rather than try to be creative with a blog post. Every now and then something will come up that makes me think, "That would be a good blog post." Then the lazy side of me says, "Nah!"

Today I was looking into having my blogs put into book form. There is a site via Blogger that compiles everything including photos (excluding comments) into a really nice 8 1/2 x 11 book. It would be great to have so all those stories that I worked so hard on in print so they don't get lost! But looking at some of them made me nostalgic for the days when I did post more.

There were so many people blogging back then - and blogging regularly. Now most of my "blog buddies" are on Facebook and we stay in touch that way. But I so miss reading my daughter's blog about her kids, the blogs of two of her friends who are very funny writers, Nikki, Maria, Beth Ann, Patti. A blog or two will pop out every couple of weeks or so, and I still have one friend, Linda, who blogs regularly. But the rest of them not so much.

So, I may try to get back to it. There are still stories that I would love to share with my kids and have in my "blog book" when I decide to print one. Now if I could just find the energy..........

Phobias

I read somewhere that there are as many phobias as there are "things"! Well, I have a few. My main one is claustrophobia. I know, pretty common and not very exotic. But please do not ever describe your MRI to me or I'll start breathing funny.

Another one I've had since I was a child is fear of quicksand. I don't even know if there's a name for that phobia. In fact, I tried to look it up and discovered that I'm not the only person in the world with this fear! I think it stems from some old 1950's movie I saw once where this woman went totally under. I've never even been close to quicksand as far as I know. And my guess is that this isn't a major health threat. But I fear it none-the-less.

However, there is one phobia I have a bit of control over. Again, I don't think this one has a name so I'll make it up - messyeyebrowphobia! I literally have a mild panic attack when I see someone with really messy eyebrows or, worse yet, see someone rub their eyebrow against the grain with their finger! I mean, why in the world would anyone do that?? Of course, Ed does it periodically just to see me squirm. But he's smart enough to quickly remedy the situation. And he often trims his eyebrows to save me from angst.

My daughter is afflicted with this same condition. You'll often see one or both of us smoothing our own eyebrows when a person does the unthinkable (please refer to above - I just can't write it again....). When I worked at Stanford there was a woman physician who would come into my office to chat. She really was a great person, but she had this habit of playing with her eyebrows and pushing the hairs the wrong way. By the time she left I would have major agita.

Spiders are no problem. Not afraid of heights. No problem with airplanes. But PLEASE keep me out of tight spaces and keep those damn eyebrows neat! Oh, yeah, and if you have a map with quicksand locations that I can avoid, that would be great!

Day at Sea

Ed is a total Type A personality. At times I'm not far behind, but I think if you look up Type A in the dictionary, you might find his picture. Constantly busy. The only time he sits and relaxes (like watch a movie, read a book, nap) is when he's sick. I, on the other hand, feel the most productive thing I can do is watch a movie, read a book, or take a nap!

So yesterday he was doing some yard work, made an awkward leap for the porch, and tore a ligament (or something like that) in his calf. He was really in pain - you know the kind of pain that makes you break out in a sweat and almost puke. Finally made it in the house and to the couch. After ice backs, elevating his leg, and several Tylenol, he felt better. But today his leg is swollen and quite sore so he can't do much.

Which means we're just hanging around the house, reading, eating, resting. I managed to get a project done that I've put off for almost a year. In our front hall we have a box with 9 little drawers each having a place for a photo. I use it for grandkids photos. However, since we have 13 grandkids and my brother's 4 children feel like grandkids, I had to add four small frames on the sides to hold the whole gang! Today I actually had time to update all the photos, add the twins who were born last August (!!), and get the 8 older kids in the outside frames.


Now, don't get me wrong. I don't like it when Ed is sick or hurt. But I do secretly enjoy the "day at sea."

Wonder if there's an app for that...

When I was a kid I wanted to be a doctor. Didn't want to go to school and spend all the time becoming a doctor - just wantd to wake up one day and be one!

Same thing for playing the piano. Practice be damned, I just want to be able to play ragtime or any old thing my little heart desires.

But, alas, neither of those came to fruition. Can't imagine why.....

Today I remembered one other profession that always seemed very cool to me - bank teller. No, it wasn't my desire to sit behind a cage all day dealing with the masses. Nope, didn't want to have to balance my account every night. Didn't particularly want to handle all that dirty money. But the stamps! How I loved the sound of all those stamps on the marble countertops. My mom would give the teller some money or a piece of paper, and the stamping frenzy would begin. Bang, bang, bang the teller would stamp several pieces of paper, put some in a drawer, give something back to Mom, sometimes money was exchanged. The sound of stamp hitting marble seemed so grownup and melodical.

So now I have several stamps at my desk and sometimes I stamp things just for the thrill of it. Now don't try to tell me you don't have any little quirks like that! Come on, come clean. You know you want to.

Grandma vs. Mama

Being a grandmother is an interesting experience. Before Jenni had kids, I always assumed I would enjoy being a grandma, but turns out I had no idea the depth of love you feel for your grandkids. That was a surprise. It's as deep and heartfelt as what you feel for your own kids, but different in so many ways.

One of which is in the area of discipline. Now, even though my own kids are perfect in every way, they did get into their share of trouble as young 'uns. And back then we were still allowed to give a kid a smack on the butt without CPS being called so they received several of those. When they would do something wrong and I had to discipline them, the tears often flowed. But I was immune. They still got their punishment.

With the grandkids, when they do something wrong, I often find it amusing. And, heaven forbid they tear up! When Eamon does something wrong and we ask him to stop, his face gets flushed, his lip quivers, and his eyes tear up. Plus he gets this really forlorn look on his face and all I want to do is hug him. Vika doesn't get quite so pathetic looking, but she has some big tears and it melts our hearts.

Last night was supposed to be an "overnighter" for Vika and Eamon. They had been wanting to spend the night for awhile, but our schedules didn't allow it until last night. Then Vika blew it. Jenni caught her hiding homework, in some cases throwing it away, and not telling the whole truth when asked about it. Very bad. So the decision was that we would cancel the overnighter and Ed and I would take Eamon out to dinner instead. With the understanding that if Vika got a report (or something, not sure of the details) done by Thursday, she could join us for dinner. And she did it! However, Friday morning Jenni found yet another homework assignment in the garbage pail in Vika's room. So she was told that she had to complete it at our house right after school or no dinner date.

I picked the kids up and we went to our favorite yogurt spot before heading home. While we ate our yogurt I reminded Vika about the homework. She looked at me with wide saucer eyes and said, "I accidentally left it at school!" Then she started tearing up. I told her we needed to call her mom to find out next steps. She said, "Can we call her after dinner?" I said no, because then I'd get in trouble too!! And I'm way too busy to be grounded.

When we got home we called Jenni. I gave Vika the phone and suddenly she started crying and said in a tiny voice, "OK." Jenni had told her that she would be picking her up in an hour and Eamon would go to dinner with us alone. Vika said to me, "I think that's too big a consequence for what I did!" (what 8-year old uses that word?!?). Then she asked me if I would do the same thing if I was her Mama. And I said yes I would because it wasn't just one incident, but a lot of them all put together and this was the last straw. She understood, but didn't like it. And those tears were so hard to watch. So I dried her eyes and painted her fingernails and then we played computer games until her mom arrived. Of course, I didn't know that she was also grounded from using a computer!

Maybe it's because we have more patience as grandparents than as parents. Maybe it's because we don't feel responsible for the way the grandkids turn out (we had enough pressure worrying about our own kids). Maybe it's because this feels like a second chance to not get so upset about things. Or maybe it's because we only have them around for short spurts and don't have to put up with these "episodes" on a day-to-day basis.

Yeah, that's probably it. But just wait until you're a grandparent. You'll totally understand.

Annual Angst

Today was one of my least favorite days of the year - the day I have to have labs done for my annual physical. As I've said in the past, I'm a total needlephobe. Hate 'em! Last summer when I need to have a blood draw for my pneumonia, I had a lab trainee who had to consult her notes. Yeah, that was fun.

This time I had an experienced tech, but who cares. A needle is a needle. Of course, I had to sit in the waiting area for 30 minutes before my name was called. During that time a little 6-year old girl was taken into the lab screaming her head off. The whole time she was in there she was screaming "don't do it, don't do it!!" I told the woman next to me that I pretty much have the same reaction, but I try to not be as verbal about it. By the time that little girl left (about 10 minutes later) with big tears rolling down her cheeks and a handful of lollypops, we were all squirming.

Then it was my turn. The tech asked the usual question "which arm would you prefer?" and I gave my usual answer, "YOURS!!" She smiled patronizingly and proceeded to thump the vein in my right arm. She told me she would use a pediatric needle (apparently my angst was noticeable) and, after jamming it in my arm, she tightened the rubber tourniquet, thumped the veins a bit more, and announced that no blood was coming out! WTF?? So she bandaged that hole and said, "Let's try the other arm." Oh, goody.

My left arm apparently has blood in it because she filled three vials. All the time keeping up the banal small talk about health care, my job, my family, etc. Really now, I'm 63 and am NOT distracted by small talk when you're draining my body of blood.

So now I have bandages on both arms but at least I'm done for another year. Hey, I just realized I didn't get any lollypops!

Has Anbody Seen My Gal?

When I was little, there was a popular song called "Five Foot Two" that started

Five foot two, eyes of blue.
But, oh, what those five feet can do!
Has anybody seen my gal?

As I hit the age of eleven I was five foot two - the tallest kid in my class! Which wasn't so cool since I had a crush on Tom who was a head shorter than me. But, alas, the rest of the kids kept growing and I just stayed there. Oh, I was the tallest woman in my family, even topped many of the men. However, I've spent the majority of my life being vertically challenged.

But, hey! At least I had a song in my honor!! Sadly, those days are over. Yesterday during my annual physical I was weighed and measured and I'm down to 5 1/2" (we do NOT need to discuss the weight figure). I don't think there's any song for that. Now I'm just short.

Sigh............

Why can't they be like we were, perfect in every way.....

I love the movie Bye, Bye, Birdie. In it there is a song titled, "Kids" basically lamenting that kids of today aren't as wonderful as all of us were when WE were kids. Anyone who has ever had kids, or been a kid, knows what a pain in the ass they can be at times and how they seem to thrive on getting hurt and/or in trouble.

My daughter had one of those "special" parenting days yesterday when Vika and Eamon decided to jump from the railing in the dining room down to the living room couch. Eamon did fine. Vika busted her head open when she used the couch as a trampoline and did a header on the coffee table. A couple of hours and three staples later she was fine. But it was an exciting evening all around. Ed and I were headed to a crab feed, but went to Urgent Care to be with Jenni, Jeff and the kids.

Of course, my kids never did anything like that. Well, unless you count the time Jenni found a little metal ball, threw it in the air and looked to see where it would land. As luck would have it, it landed on her mouth and broke a tooth.

Or the many times my son Joe got sun stroke because he would play too hard without a hat in the 110 Tucson sun.

Oh, and the time he went dirt bike riding and didn't realize the sand dunes change overnight with the wind and all so he did a header over the dune and landed on his shoulder.

Back to Jenni, when she finally learned how to climb out of her crib, she would do it from the front instead of the side and land on her head on the ground. If I was downstairs, I would hear a loud thump followed by a wail. Good times.

I, on the other hand, was a perfect child. No need to bring up the time I decided to do a little dance on my mother's coffee table with the glass insert (what was she thinking?!?) and my leg went through the glass. What's a few stitches here and there.

Or the time I gave my sister a ride on my bike and got her foot caught in the spokes.

Or the time I shoved a rock up my nose (please don't ask me why) and ran home crying so hard that the rock fell out. Actually, my mother never knew about that one.

It's amazing that we parents survive.

And, yes, I use nightlights

I've probably watched Twilight Zone too much, but twice this weekend I was sure Rod Serling would be making an appearance in my home.

On Friday afternoons I pick up Vika and Eamon from school and they stay with me until 5:00 or 5:30. This Friday Jenni wanted to pick them up early because she'd had a long day at school, so they left around 4:20. I was alone in the house and had just sat down at my computer when I heard knocking at the front door. I figured the kids forgot something so I opened the door and there was no one there! No cars in front of the house, no people, nada. I had distinctly heard a knock so now I was freaked out. Did I mention I was ALONE in the house! And that I'm basically I'm not a brave soul. I closed and locked the door, started back to the computer, when I heard the knock again. I could see that there still wasn't anyone at the front door. Yikes!! I was really freaked out. Then I realized the knocking was coming from the garage door. Apparently one of the little darlings had locked the door from the garage to the house, Ed decided to come home a little early in hopes of seeing Vika and Eamon, and he was knocking! Good grief.

Then yesterday morning I was talking with Jenni on the phone. We finished our conversation and I hung up. But I could still hear her talking - although it sounded like it was coming from a distance. Did she not hang up on her side? Was something wrong with my phone that it didn't end the call? I took the phone out of the cradle, hit the Off button with a bit more authority this time, and put the phone back. But I could still hear the voice! The rest of the house was quiet. Now I was wondering if it was coming from one of the other four cradles so I steathily went to each of them (you know, didn't want them to see me coming) to listen. They all seemed fine, but the voice continued. Then I got to the bedroom and there was Ed listing to a voicemail message on his phone using the Speakerphone. He had gone into the corner in the bedroom so he could hear while I was talking with Jenni in the den.

Maybe I need to switch to tv comedies. Although Ed thinks I'm pretty much of a joke all by myself!

Conjugation can be fun

There's a new Jack-in-the-Box commercial that shows a bunch of college students having a Toga Party. I did that! But as a freshman in high school. When I was taking Latin.

Yes, I took Latin. Two years of it. And, yes, I know it's a "dead" language. But back then I really wanted to be a doctor and I thought Latin might help. Well, I didn't become a doctor, but Latin helped me a lot when I took the much more practical Spanish. It's helped me spell and understand a lot of English, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese words. Not to mention all the "doctor" words I needed to know during my 20 years at Stanford Hospital. And the first year of class was fun!

Our teacher was Felizardo Valencia. He spoke eight languages and was one of the best teachers I've ever had. Even though there's no such thing as "conversational Latin", he would have us do little plays speaking it. Great fun. Of course, there were also times that our pronunciation was a bit off and what came out of our mouths was actually a dirty word in Spanish. We always knew when this happened because Mr. Valencia would get a bit red in the face and sometimes break out in laughter.

One of his class traditions was to have a Toga Party at his house towards the end of the year. We all had to bring a white sheet to drape over our clothes, his kids would make wreaths for our heads, his wife would make lunch for us. The freshman were the "slaves" so we had to serve the upperclassmen, peel grapes for them (I was a mean grape-peeler), and use palm fronds to create breezes. Today this whole thing would probably not be politically correct on so many levels. But luckily we lived in simpler times and we had what we called a "blast". Oh, and we had to speak in Latin as much as possible (although there really isn't any Latin word for cheeseburger or Pepsi so we were allowed to let English slip in periodically).


I really loved that class. We had a lot of fun, and learned a lot. Probably one of the few classes in high school that has stayed with me and that is still useful in everyday life.

Then came my sophomore year. Because we were on split shifts at an over-crowded school, I had Latin at 6:30am. The teacher was Mrs. Stone (we didn't have any "Ms" back then). And a stone she was. Grey hair, grey skin, never a smile on her face. And a nasally voice. By the end of that year, Latin was truly dead for most of us. Mr. Valencia had retired so we were the last class to be lucky enough to have him as our teacher. Ah, but our memories of the first year were alive and well.

And I can still conjugate a verb: Amo, amas, amat, amamus, amatis, amant! Which, as you might imagine, makes me a big hit at parties!

Grout and Music

Today we are having Wendy's baby shower at our house. It was initially scheduled for mid-July, but she had to go on bed rest so we postponed it until the twins were 3 months old (which happened on November 3rd). So, this morning I was rushing around to make two loaves of pumpkin bread, and a batch of Ceviche before we have to head to Costco to pick up additional food. Ed thought that would be a fine time to clean the grout on the kitchen counter!!

He started with Comet then switched to Soft Scrub - in the process splashing some on his new sweatshirt which immediately went into the washer.

The point is (and I do have one), for some reason when he pulled out the Comet I thought about Ajax. When I was a kid, that was the only cleanser there was. As others came on the market, they were all labeled Ajax in our minds. Sort of like Kleenex and Xerox machines. Then, being me, I started recalling the Ajax jingle

"Use Ajax, the foaming cleanser (badda, bom, bada, bom, bom), [something, something] the dirt right down the drain!"

Then I started humming the old Pepsodent commercial "You wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent."

And Lucky Strike cigarettes: Be happy, go lucky. Be Happy, go Lucky Strike

Chevrolet: See the USA, in your Chevrolet (followed by a big air kiss from Dinah Shore)

Texaco: You can trust your car to the man who wears the star, the big, bright Texaco Star!!

Brylcream: Brylcream, a little dab'll do ya, Brylcream, you'll look so debonair. Brylcream a little dab'll do ya. They'll love to get their fingers in your hair.

Do you have any favorites from the past? By the way, our grout looks lovely.

The "Old" People

Earlier this week my good friend in Tucson wrote on her Facebook Status, "I Miss My Old People!!" I knew what she was talking about - her mother passed away in the Summer of 2008, and her stepfather died a month or so ago.

My hairdresser just lost her mother a month ago after a long illness. And over the past week there has been a man walking by our office who looks a lot like Ed's dad. All of these events brought so much back to me.

My mom died over 14 years ago, and between Jan 2007 and Jan 2008 Ed and I lost my father and both of his parents. All of our "old people" are gone, too. My dad was in a nursing home for over 2 years before he died, and Ed's parents both spent eight weeks in the hospital or nursing homes at the end of their lives. For two years our lives consisted of a series of hospital visits, flights to Chicago, nursing home visits, dealing with mounds of paperwork, knots in the stomach every time the phone rang. It was emotionally and physically draining - and I miss it!

I miss having them around. I miss their stories that they told over and over again. I miss being able to take my dad out of the nursing home and to a restaurant for oysters, white wine, and Caesar Salad. And driving him to downtown Chicago so he could see the buildings and the lights. He so loved Chicago. And Scrabble - up to the end it was hard to beat the guy at Scrabble.

I miss having Ed's dad over a couple of times a week for dinner and watching him enjoy our grandkids. And hearing his great phrases like "tall hog at the trough" and "knee deep in high cotton". And his laugh - boy could that man laugh. Mostly it was silent, you would just see his face light up and his belly jiggle.

I miss Ed's mom with her bright red hair and the perpetual kleenex in her hand. And her bright lipstick. I miss her yelling across the room, "Where's Clyde?" anytime her husband dared to stray out of her sight. I miss seeing her in that recliner where she sat for every holiday and dinner at our house. 90% of the photos we have of her are in that recliner!

I miss my mother's laugh and the way she always said, "Hi, Sweetheart!" when I would call her on the phone, and I could hear a smile in her voice. And how we called each other almost daily just to chat - often about nothing in particular. And how she was able to center me with just a few words. She was my best friend so I lost two people when she died.

I even miss all we had to do at the end of their lives because it gave us a chance to give back to them some of what they had given to us. To take care of them. My dad once said to me, "I hate that you have to do all of this for me." I said, "Dad, you took care of me for 20 years, let me enjoy the chance to pay you back a bit."

After all of our "old people" were gone, I made a separate collage for each of them and have them hanging in our hallway. I smile every time I look at them - and I tear up.

Now Ed and I are the "old people" ! I'm not sure I like that much.

1963

This morning I watched last night's episode of Mad Men (thank you, Tivo). The show is exquisite and probably my favorite thing on tv right now. For those who haven't watched it first, shame on you! Second, it takes place in New York in the 1960's with all the slickness, drinking, smoking, womanizing, etc. of that decade. Last night's show revolved around the Kennedy assassination.

Throughout the episode, tv's in all the scenes were showing various stages of that awful weekend from the first shot to the notice of Kennedy's death, to the shooting of Lee Harvey Oswald. I found myself crying all over again watching Walter Cronkite announce that the president had died.

Any of us who are old enough remember where we were that day.

I was in my senior year in high school that year and in Journalism class. We were all babbling about needing a big story for the front page of the school paper when one of our classmates walked through the door and said, "The President has just been shot!" We all started laughing and said, "We don't need something quite that big." But then we realized he was serious and turned on the classroom radio. We had a phone in the classroom so all took turns calling someone - our mothers, best friends, dads - just needed to connect with someone.

Next class was Chemistry. My teacher was this very large black man from the South who was one of the best teachers I ever had. He actually made chemistry fun and we learned so much. He was well over six feet tall and had been a football player so had arms and thighs the size Texas and was a big, tough guy who always had a smile on his face. Class that day consisted mostly of talking about what was going on. He was sitting at his desk in front of the room just letting us have conversations with him and with each other. Shortly after 1:00 the Principal came over the loud speaker and announced to the school that President Kennedy had died. We were horrified. Our teacher looked up at the PA speaker, looked at us, then put his head on his desk and sobbed. We watched his shoulders shaking. This strong man felt apart in front of our young eyes. That told the story of how devastated we all were. Within a few minutes we were all crying and trying to comfort each other.

Our age of innocence was over. School continued for the rest of the day because they weren't allowed to let us go home early. But we all just drifted from class to class crying, talking, and waiting for the bell. When school was finally out and my mom came to pick me up, she was crying. Her eyes were so swollen and puffy.

We were glued to the tv all night. Stayed in front of the tv all weekend and I remember I was drying dishes and watching when Oswald was shot. By then we were so numb that I just sat on the floor and stared at the tv. What more could possibly happen.

Then the funeral, then John-John saluting his dad. It was a horrific week. I don't know that Kennedy was all that great a President. I was much too young to know enough to make that determination. He certainly had his faults, as all Presidents do. But he was young and charasmatic and the first President that my generation really had. His death was such a stunning blow to our way of life and all that we thought we knew.

Mad Men captured all of this perfectly. It made me cry, made me remember.

It's all about grandkids

The past two weekends have been filled with grandkids! Last Saturday we all went to Perry Farms about a mile from our house for our annual pumpkin gathering extravaganza. My kids and I have been going there since we moved to California in 1987 to get pumpkins to decorate the front porch. It's a tradition that I love. This year we had Jenni's kids, Marc's two boys, and Wendy's twins all along for the ride.

It was the first "social" outing for the twins and their parents which made the day that much more special. I don't think the babies got much out of it, but the older kids had a good time.


And this year it was at least a little chilly. I remember years past when it was so warm we had to wear shorts and that just should not be legal in the Fall!


On Sunday, my son and his wife came over with Tyson (the 8 month old) and then left him with me for a couple of hours while they went to play with their band. He's at such a great age (Tyson, not my son!). Crawling everywhere, standing for brief moments, and smiling a lot!

Jenni brought her kids over and Tyson watched tv with them for awhile. Then both families joined us for dinner. A perfect way to end a Fall weekend.

My grandson, Eamon, turned seven mid-week and yesterday Jenni had a birthday party for him. Of course, 90% of the presents were Star Wars or Transformers stuff. Jenni loves Halloween so the house was "done up" right and all the snacks had Halloween themes. With nine kids playing and eating sugar, you can imagine the noise. Or maybe you can't - lucky you!

Eamon ordered Boston Creme Pie for his birthday cake. Luckily for all of us his father is a master cook and makes a mean BCP. Eamon takes his cake eating very seriously.


My younger grandson also takes meal times seriously, as does his dad.

But a good time was had by all and Jenni did have adult drinks which included vodka, creme de cacao, and ice cream. How can you miss with that? Although, maybe we should have given some of the hooch to the kids to sedate them...

I am NOT a macophile

I'm a PC person. You know like the button-down guy in the khaki pants in that commercial? My daughter used to be a PC person, but now she's a Macophile.

So, when I got my shiny new iPhone, her first question was, "Are you going to switch to a Mac?" The answer - No. I love my PC. And my khaki pants.

I also love my iPhone. After using a Treo for 6 years, this is such a difference and so dang much fun. There's an application for damn near everything - although I still haven't found the one for washing windows so if anyone has that one, please share.

But I have a couple of games, movie times, this cool thing that identifies music you are listening to (in the store, office, radio, etc.), Amazon.com, Facebook. The FB one is a little scary because as soon as you take a photo, it's posted. Gotta be a little careful with that one.....

Oh, and I can also make and receive phone calls on it! What a deal. Just have to find a cool ringtone.

So now I'm part of a new breed of person - PCUWI (PC User With iPhone)

Chick? Bird? Fox? Cougar?

There was an annual National Cougar Convention in Palo Alto this week. Since I've always been a little slow on the uptake, I only found out a short time back that a "cougar" was an older woman in a relationship with a younger man. Think Demi Moore.

So does that make me a cougar?!? I mean, Ed is 11 months younger than I am. I remember when being called a "fox" was sort of a good thing. But Cougar?? It just doesn't have the same ring to it.

My first cougar experience was at the ripe old age of 20 when I dated a young man named John who was 19 (thank goodness for proofreading - when I first typed this I put his age at 10!!). He worked in the mail room at my company and he was very cute (back then we called boys "cute" and it was okay). But the age difference actually made me uncomfortable! I mean, I was almost legal and he was still a teenager! Yuck! So that ended after a couple of dates. Especially after he was kissing me goodnight at the front door and my dad opened the door as loudly as possible and said in his best radio DJ voice - "About time you got home!!" Apparently I was a few minutes past curfew (yes, even at 20 I had a curfew). So John became a distant memory.

My mother dated after she and my dad got divorced and the men were always 15-20 years younger than her! But she looked so young and was such an energetic person that she couldn't abide being with a 60-year old man. You have to remember, 25 years ago 60 year old people were winding down. Unlike my generation where we're just gearing up!

Anyway, the older you get the less the age gap matters. So I hear. I would still have a very difficult time "dating" a man who was close to my son's age. Just too awkward for me. Also, I don't think Ed would like it!

My dream house

My ideal dream house would have a huge wrap-around front porch. I know it isn't "in" these days to sit on a front porch, but I would love to have one. With a swing, rocker, table, etc. I have visions of sitting out there on a rainy day with a book. Sipping wine on a warm summer night. Maybe even having lunch on the porch on a nice Spring day. Whatever - I just want one!

I think it's part of my heritage. I come from a long line of porch-sitters. Back when my parents were growing up, everyone sat on their front porch. Talked with their neighbors. Watched people stroll by. It was the primary social activity - at least in Chicago where my family was from.

Here's a bunch of cousins and my aunt in the middle sitting on the front steps. Most of their "porches" consisted of a small landing and steps. But that's still where they hung out.

Me and my Mom with her friend Madelyn (I have no idea why I remember her name) sitting on the front steps just watching the world go by.

My dad playing king in the center of his mother and sister. This was a fancier house with metal railings instead of concrete!

In Tucson, we mostly took to the front yard in addition to the porch. Gotta catch those rays. This is at my grandparents house. When people came out to visit from Chicago, Nani Gene and Papa Jim took great delight in spending a lot of time outside. Especially when the visitors came in the winter to escape the snow.

This is the same front yard with a shot of the porch. I spent many happy hours in this yard and on that porch. My grandfather would sit out there most of the day smoking and talking with his friends who would drop by. We had holidays there, Easter Egg Hunts, Fourth of July festivities, birthdays. It was a favorite family spot. My grandfather died in 1973 a few months before my kids were born. My grandmother never went back to that house and our days of front porches and front yards was gone.

Now when we see people sitting outside in the front yard, it almost looks strange. Where's the privacy?? What are they looking at?? Why aren't they in their backyard?? No more saying hi to neighbors as they stroll by. No more seeing someone sitting outside and stopping by to chat. Now we hardly know our neighbors. I think I liked it better the old way.

So, someday when I get my dream house I'll have a big front porch. And I'll sit out there and say hi to people as they go by. And kids will probably call me the old crazy lady who sits on her front porch. I'm cool with that!

My life as a grandmother

Yesterday my daughter, Jenni, and I were talking about parents, kids, grandparents, etc. She said that some people see grandkids primarily as their "legacy" - carrying on the blood line. I hadn't thought about that much before but I realized in talking with her that, first of all, my "legacy" has nothing to do with blood line. It's more the memories I leave for my kids and my family. The laughter, the tears, the love, the photos, maybe even my bentwood rocker. That is MY legacy.

As for being a grandmother - there are two very special parts for me and neither of them have anything to do with genetics or dna.

The first is the joy and fun of watching your own child be a parent. Watching them go through all the stages from fear and confusion to laughter, joy, and that tug at the heart that only a parent knows. It's hearing my daughter complain about her daughter's messy bedroom and smiling at my own memory. It's having my son, who is in the midst of teen angst with his stepson, ask me if he was ever bored as a teenager! Or asking me if he cried a lot when he was a baby (oh, no, he was perfect.....) It's telling their kids stories about their parents when they were little and hearing the loud laughter that always invokes. It's being there when one of your kids calls for advice, to vent, or for comfort during one of those many frightening moments parents have.

It's watching their parenting style (which is always different for each generation) - hearing some things and thinking "dang, I wish I had thought of that when you were little". And hearing other things that make you silently think, "boy, I don't know about that one." And trying desperately to keep your opinions to yourself. Much like my own mother did when I was raising my kids. Miraculously, with a loving family, most kids turn out just fine regardless of parenting method. It's being a parent to a parent.

The second part if being able to re-live some of those early parenting years when I was fearful, confused, overwhelmed. In raising our own children, we're often torn so many different ways that those days slip by too quickly and we aren't always able to fully appreciate the wonder of it all. With my grandkids, I have the opportunity to have a "do-over". In fact, I put a quote on this blog that states "A grandmother is a mother who has a second chance."

Once again I can feel those sweaty little hands in mine as we cross the street. Watch ice cream run down their arms - only this time without freaking out about the mess. Go see a Disney movie and spend more time watching the kids faces than the movie itself. Listen to a Eamon's recap of a movie or tv show and watch his eyes light up. Help with homework. Watch Vika drag the stool across the kitchen so she can help me cook or bake. Have them actually WANT to help set the table or clean up. Kiss them goodnight and cover them when they sleep over.

Set up a separate table for our four grandkids in the 6-8 age range and watch them talk and laugh and play games. Watch the older boys slip into those teen years with goofy hair, strange clothes, and trying to cautiously straddle that line between child and adult.

Watch Tyson learn to crawl and sit up and walk and talk. Feed Tyson baby food (I always loved feeding my kids). Going to school shows. Picking up Vika and Eamon at school on Fridays and hearing them rattle on about their day and their friends. Having them run up to me with open arms for a hug or an "up please". Having Tyson fall asleep in my arms. Sticky hands on my face and hearing a little voice saying, "I love you."

So many wonderful things. I've been amazed at the depth of my feelings for my grandchildren. I always knew it would be nice to have them. I didn't know I would end up loving them almost as much as my own kids. That the familiar "tug at the heart" would now apply to them, as well. Every other grandmother I talk to expresses the same surprise at the incredible emotional ties they have to their grandkids. Ed and I have 11 grandkids between us with two more due to arrive in the next couple of weeks.

Grandkids are our gifts for raising our own children.

What I've learned this week

• Having pneumonia sucks!!
• There is something inherently unfair about taking an antibiotic that makes you so nauseated that you hardly eat anything for almost a week - and you don't lose even one ounce.
• When you go to the doctor with low blood pressure, low oxygen levels, and high heartrate - he gets nervous and runs you through a heap o' tests thinking you have congestive heart failure or are having a heart attack. When all along it's just the damn antibiotic.
• Going to have labs done when you're a total needlephobe (when I worked in the hospital even typing the words "hyperdermic needle" would make my palms sweat") and having the cute young lab tech start with the words, "I'm a trainee, hope that's okay" is not a good thing.
• Golden Girls really was a pretty funny show
• That burning desire I had to have time to sit home and just read a book is gone
• Sleeping sitting up on the couch gets pretty old
• Getting a shot in the hip hurts! Oh, they say they'll be gentle, but how gentle can a person be with a 10" needle??
• When you haven't eaten in four days a McDonald's cheeseburger and fries tastes heavenly
• When you go to the doctor on Thursday and then back on Friday for a re-check, they really shouldn't need to ask you if you still live at the same address.
• When your elderly aunt calls to tell you about all her aches and pains and to relate stories you've heard a hundred times, and she asks how you are and you say you have pneumonia, it definitely cuts the conversation short. (By the way, this aunt introduced me recently as the flower girl at her wedding - even though she was married 4 years before I was born)
• I'm so glad I was never a smoker
• A "productive" cough is just gross
• When a medicine "may cause diarrhea or constipation" it basically means you're screwed either way
  
• Good health is a fragile and wonderful thing.
  

I am not amused

I'm so bummed. I wrote last week about my miserable cough. Well, finally went to the doctor and she said I have pneumonia! WTF!! Not something I've ever had before and, frankly, I'm not amused. So now I start on antibiotics and have to spend another week at home sitting on my butt reading, watching old movies, napping. I mean, that's fine for a day, but now for two weeks in a row! Sucks.

Plus we have to cancel a family BBQ we had planned for Sunday because there's no guarantee I'll be better by then. That really pisses me off.

So, I have a little task for all of you. This hanging around the house is really boring, so keep up the fun and interesting blogs so at least I'll have THOSE to read this week!

Now I'm going to go feel sorry for myself.