Long time no blog

I've been waiting for a topic to present itself to my brain, but my thoughts seem kind of disconnected, so I guess I'll list them instead of expounding on them:

• Getting ready to go to Hawaii next month. I'm looking forward to seeing the volcano and lazing around in the sea. Last year I wanted to try all the touristy things: leis, luaus, Polynesian culture. This year I just want to explore the beaches. I don't even need to shop, although when I get there I may change my mind!
• My brother Steve is seriously considering moving to Arkansas. While I want him to be happy in a place with many friends and a more reasonable cost of living, and I don't really see him that often even though he lives less than ten miles away, I will miss having him and his wife drop-in-on-able.
• Meanwhile, son Matt has moved 30 miles closer, but I don't want to encroach on his new life with Veda and her kids. It's wonderful to see him so happy in his new role, but not sure I'm ready to be an almost-step-grandma.
• My former boss is leaving adult ed. I wonder if I'll get any sub or testing work next year. It's nice to see all my old colleagues (the ones that are still there) but if I really don't need all my old books and files anymore I should be able to get rid of a lot of stuff! But I probably won't.
• I test-rode an adult tricycle today. It felt kind of weird not to have to balance. Of course balance is something I'm not particularly good at, which is why I was trying it out in the first place. I may attempt to rent one before I buy -- maybe in Hawaii!
• It's really all about getting older, isn't it?

hide and seek and give up and find

I knew as soon as I bought a new phone I'd find my old one, and sure enough, it turned up less than a week later,  in my car where I had looked a hundred times, wrapped in a paper towel. I had pictured it in a crack in the cliff overlooking the sea. Kind of envied it there. Now it will be donated to the women's support network.  Don't envy it there.

I guess I needed to lose the old one to be daring enough to try a new smart phone. It's supposed to have a "find my phone" app, but that turns out to involve upgrading my Mac OSX to the latest Lion version, and I don't know how much that might cost! Between constantly upgraded software, and elusive bits of hardware, and population explosion of passwords, and my aging brain, I may be doomed! But I'll keep trying. Maybe I'll surprise myself.

Fathers' Day is definitely a semi-melancholy holiday, my second without Greg. Even though our boys are grown, it's hard being a lone parent -- nobody to share the pride and worries and memories. I think it was wonderful the way Greg invented fatherhood for himself, since he grew up without a Dad in the picture. And it was tragic that by the time the kids were in the most difficult part of adolescence, Greg's dementia had set in. I really wish he could see them now -- Jeffrey in uniform, Matthew in a loving relationship. I wish they could see him as he was twenty years ago, delighted to be a dad!

learning curve

So after losing my last cell phone, which I selected as the "phone that would do the least number of things other than make phone calls," I finally went into a Verizon store and explored my options. The

options appeared endless. I really was scared of getting a smart phone that was smarter than I am (I'm smart, but not when it comes to electronics). But by the time I walked out of there I was the owner of an actual iPhone!  I am an Apple loyalist, so no other smart phones could possibly measure up. I haven't fiddled with it yet -- that's not the way I learn, anyway, so I plan to go to the Apple Store and sign up for some actual instruction. That was the thing I didn't do with my iMac, and I have regretted it ever since. I wonder how steep my learning curve will be....  This green color is the case color, designed to stand out against all the domestic backgrounds where it might get misplaced.

drawing a blank

At the monthly Ladies' Craft Day at Mt. Olive church, I decided to work on my scrapbooks, and totally drew a blank. I have photos, letters, diaries, copies of old German documents from my grandmother, but I got hung up on who was who in the pictures. I wish I had listened more carefully (or remembered better) when Nanie told her stories at bedtime about when she was a little girl. I recognize Aunt Minnie as the person who answered little Paula's question of "What do bunnies say?" with "Nothing" and Nanie thinking for a long while afterwards that bunnies ran around saying "nothing nothing nothing." I see the photos of the Hartford grandparents, but know nothing of why Great-Grandfather killed himself. The people we called Theresa (with a hard "th") and Sister -- no idea how they were actually related! It doesn't help that one of the last names involved was Smith!

Most mysterious of all, of course, is the question of what happened between her dad and her mom -- gushing letters apologizing -- for what? Children being taken away -- why? How many dead babies?

I guess I'm going to have to join Ancestry.com and see if anything can be unearthed. One of my friends says I should just invent a story! But I'm convinced truth is probably stranger than fiction. 

 

Seaweed and Seagull Poop

Full moon, negative tide, seemed like a good day to go to Davenport Beach in search of Lundberg seaglass. Our first clue that it was not was not was when we saw almost no beachcombers there, as opposed to the last two or three times when the beach was packed with serious shovelers of sand and pebbles. We paced up and down, poked and prodded, waded, froze our toes, but almost nothing had washed up on the beach but seaweed and seagull poop. How disappointing!

When did going to the beach become measured by how much debris (for that's what sand, seashells, seaglass, driftwood, etc. really are, aren't they?) we transported home? I already have so much stuff I am planning to set up a beachlike corner of my backyard. I have makings for earrings, necklaces, and windowsill decor galore! Perhaps it's being from Toledo, so far from the sea, that makes it so hard to believe the ocean will still be there, with or without beachcombings, next week, next month. Perhaps it's recognizing that nothing I can craft, paint, write is as beautiful as the real thing that makes me want to appreciate every little shard of coral and rounded rock. Perhaps it's the same impulse I had as a kid, always walking with my head down, looking for lost coins and marbles on the playground, hunting for bottlecaps at the picnic grounds, picking neighbors flowers that dared poke across their back fences.   

Still, we lingered on the sand. The air was so fresh, the sky so blue except for puffy little clouds, the sea was deep blue and cloudy brown and frothy white. A flight of pelicans flew directly overhead -- we could see the color of the bottoms of their breasts and wings. Joey (the dog) was in ecstasy. I picked up a bagful of otther people's trash, candy wrappers, yes, bottlecaps, and cigarette butts -- left only footprints. I took a few pictures. It was a great day!

Time Taxis, Flies, Crashes

A million years ago in college I took a high-falutin' course called something like household management, and one of the things that was discussed was the philosophy of time. Everybody knows about the subjectivity of time -- flies when you're havin' fun, etc. But what I'm really starting to notice is how it wiggles and wobbles and keeps changing speed. Seconds, for example, move painfully slowly when I'm trying to hold a "plank" exercise. Minutes grind by slowly on the elliptical machine, unless I happen to be watching HGTV. A three minute commercial break takes forever until I remember I can pause my DVR, go do something quick, and come back and fast-forward. But a 1-minute "blitz solitaire" game is over before I know it.

A day seems to take just about the right amount of time, unless I 'm having trouble sleeping, which happened last week when I subbed three nights in a row and threw my body-clock out of whack. But the weeks whiz by -- seems like practically every time I turn around it's time to take out the trash cans again, and the other once-a-week appointments crowd up against each other too. Months are not so bad -- they have their little celebrations and themes that help me keep track of time.

Years -- for so long all the years were measured by the kids: how old they were, what grade in school they were, what activities they were involved in, and within the year, the school calendar which was also my own work schedule. Then everything was revolving around Greg's appointments and caregiving schedule. Now I have to figure everything out for myself, sometimes taking ten minutes to deduce what day it is if I'm not standing next to a t.v. or calendar. I want to know what's on for each day, but at the same time I  love it when there is nothing I "have to" do! All the things I thought I'd get around to when I finally "had the time" are still sitting there on my list, their urgency totally diluted by the concept of retirement. I just looked back at some of my journal entries from 3 years ago -- and there are those same agenda items!

Which brings me to past vs. present vs. future. I think I have more or less mastered living in the present. I no longer fear the future (although I don't really look forward to anything in particular, I would like to have a general sense of anticipation of good things). I no longer regret the past, but I do want to "capture" some of the experiences and history in a form useful to other people. "Legacy" my financial planner called this -- I've been watching a lot of "Who Do You think You Are?" and "Finding Your Roots" type programs on t.v., and I want to preserve and tell the stories. I wish I'd paid more attention when my grandmother was telling her stories. But how much of my one and only NOW do I want to spend loop-de-looping around in THEN?