A Memory Chain

I read something very sad this past weekend.  A favorite place of mine burned down.  A place filled with memories for me.  Younkers Department Store in downtown Des Moines, IA.  Younkers had a Tea Room where lunches and fashion shows were the norm.  I enjoyed many times there.  My dainty chicken salad, lemonade and delicious ice cream.  I went to the store often with my Grandma Selma and my mom.  Amy, too.  There were other visits to Younkers with my Grandpa Phil.  We would have lunch and shop for a special outfit or dress for a holiday.

I remember one special trip with my Grandpa where we rode the bus to Younkers, had lunch and shopped.  My special purchase was wrapped in tissue, a pretty box and finished off with a lovely ribbon.  We had to walk a few blocks home and I was tired.  My Grandpa picked me up and carried me most of the way.  Me and my special gift.

After reading the article about the fire in the building that used to house Younkers and now was being renovated (ironically by a firm from Madison) I started to link a chain of memories together.  I remembered a boy named Michael who used to live next door to my grandparents.  He was about my age.  We played when I visited Des Moines.  He had a swing set and we would invent outside games. It was nice to have a friend my age to spend time with when I visited.  After getting to know him a bit, I found out that he had cancer.  I didn't understand completely.  He was well enough to play and the fact that he was sick soon left my mind.  Until one visit.  I remember arriving later in the evening.  I knew I wouldn't be able to play with Michael until the next day.  When I asked to go over and see him my grandma said it would be best if I didn't.  Michael was quite sick and couldn't have visitors.  I was so sad that I couldn't play with my Des Moines friend.  I know I asked several more times to see him and always got the same answer.  At the end of my visit, I remember standing in the driveway between my grandparent's house and Michael's house.  I knew what window was his bedroom window.  I wished so badly to see him.  And I'm not sure how long it took, but the blind was pulled back.  Just a little.  And a hand gave me a quick wave.  And that was the last time I saw Michael.  He had died by my next visit.

It was a lovely neighborhood that my grandparents lived in.  Sweet bungalow homes.  Some two story houses.  Lots of brick and bay windows.  And the screen porches on the backs of the houses.  We would have lunches and dinners in the the three season porch off the back of my grandparent's house.  My grandpa had his desk/office on the porch.  He kept me very busy being his secretary.  I took copious notes, ran errands and made sure he had a snack.  He complimented me on what a great job I did.  He told me I was his best secretary.  At least since my mom had been his secretary.

It was amazing how my memories came flooding back to me so vividly and quickly with the reading of this one article about Younkers in downtown Des Moines.  A place that may no longer physically be standing, but is still and will forever be a place of happy memories for me.

Sitting OnThe Fence

Saturday was a beautiful day.  I slept in and consumed copious amounts of coffee.  In a leisurely way.  I met two friends for lunch and shopping.  It was an enjoyable day all around.  And then I returned home.  Things went from bad to worse.

I parked in the garage and lowered the garage door.  I knew I was in for the night and bolted the back door.  I then fed the dogs and let them out the patio door.  While they were outside getting things done, I decided to go out the front door and get our mail.  Upon returning to the house I reached out for the door handle and it broke off the door and into my hand.  Whaaat?!  Are you kidding me?  I tried to fix the door knob enough to get back in the house, but that wasn't happening.

Deep breath.  I should mention that Scott and Gracie were gone for the weekend.  I walked between the houses on my way to the garage thinking that this was no problem.  I'll just open the garage door and go through the back.  But wait.  I bolted the door.  Remember?  In for the night...

Ok.  Only one option.  The patio door.  Sounds easy, right?  Nope.  We have a fence.  It's only four feet tall.  And yes, it has a gate.  But the gate has been frozen in all winter.  So there is only one way in.  Up and over.  That's right.

So I need to back up a minute.  I tore my meniscus in my left knee a couple of weeks ago and my knee keeps popping out.  I used my right leg to swing myself over the fence.  But to no avail.  I still had to push off with my left leg.  And when I did, the old knee popped out.  Problem is that in order for me to put my knee back in place I have to not be straddling a fence.  I also don't have enough momentum to swing myself over the fence.  This was very awkward to say the least.  At times even painful.

Now if this all isn't funny enough, my dogs are still out in the yard.  And there they are.  Lined up according to size.  Big, middle and little. Sitting at attention not missing a second of this show.  They are not barking.  Just watching.  I swear I could hear their thoughts.  I'm pretty sure they were saying,  what in the heck are you doing?

So in the meantime, there I am, dangling from the top of the fence.  I know that I just need to throw my weight over to my right leg.  I can't land on the disjointed or left side.   With all my might I send myself flying over.  Not a moment too soon either.  The position I was in on top of that fence was something I wish never to repeat.

I yelled, AND I'M IN!  The dogs ran away from me like I was a lunatic.  Anyway, in the patio door was the plan.  Well, we have a lot of snow and ice.  The little ramp of snow covered in ice made it almost impossible to get up on the deck.  I grabbed a post on the deck and slid myself up.  I slid the patio door open and was never so happy to be inside my home.

I talked with Scott who reminded me of the key to the back door that is hidden.  Super.  The door knob couldn't be salvaged.  Today, Scott installed a new, better door knob.  And we reviewed once again where the key is.  And I'll tell you what.  There are tons of places I would rather be than sitting on the fence.  And I mean that literally.

My Dryer Has Balls

Knowing how many people read my blog, that was kind of hard for me to write.  But it's been said, or written.  And I'm not taking it back.  It's actually an amazing thing.  My dryer's balls.  I'll explain more about them later.

I got the courage to write the above paragraph because of a conversation that my mom, dad and I had earlier today.  My folks sent me a book called My Dog:  The Paradox:  A Lovable Discourse about Man's Best Friend, by Matthew Inman.  Inman talks about the odd to us behaviors that our dogs have.  And this brought to mind a story I told my mom and dad.  It was a play date or momma therapy as we called it.  Our kids were newborn to one year old.  I decided to host.  I bought coffee, organic tea, juice and made bran muffins.  Health was abounding.  I cleaned and cleaned.  It wasn't that my house was dirty, but I had been to momma therapy at a few other houses.  One of these houses was organic as heck and lickably clean.  Like no kidding.  I know that you could have eaten off her floor.  Even the bathroom floor.  I was in simplifiers heaven when I walked through her door.  It smelled like lemons and her decor consisted of white walls, hardwood floors and leather furniture.  I thought for a moment that maybe I should live here.

Back to the play date I was hosting.  I had washed, dusted and vacuumed to the extreme.  And the door bell started to ring.  In came the new mommies and their offspring.  Everyone got situated.  We had had our treats and settled into a circle on the floor like we often did.  Our babies didn't like "tummy time" very much.  But we had discovered something amazing.  If we sat in a circle on the floor and put our babies facing each other on their tummies they loved it!  They giggled and cooed.  Life was good.  One of the mommas commented on the cleanliness of my home and I blushed with gratitude.  She said, with two dogs, I don't know how you do it!  I could not have been prouder.  And if on cue, in they walked.  Chester and Winston.  The babies squealed and the mommas fawned over them.

And then it happened.  One of my dogs, who shall remain nameless, did the butt drag across the floor.  In my mind I was saying oh no, oh no, oh no.  Please don't let this leave a mark.  You know, a poop stain mark.  Well all of the wishing in the world wasn't going to change the brown mark about thirty inches long that was streaking across my carpet full of babies and mommas.  And what happened next I can only attribute to temporary insanity.  I said, oh that hardly ever happens.  It's because he needs his anal glands expressed.  I better move that up in priority on my to do list!  Almost all of the mommas laughed.  The one that didn't was Mrs. Superclean.   I decided that I no longer needed to live with her.  Luckily I have a very strong self esteem.

Anyway, back to my dryer's balls.  I am constantly looking for simpler ways to do things.  I want to simplify and be friendly to the environment.  And there they were.  These felted wool balls that are for your dryer.  They bounce around your wet clothes and help separate them while drying.  It helps the air circulation be more efficient and actually cuts time off drying.  I did experiment with this and sure enough, they work.  And because I love to have fun, and because I love to be funny, I had to tell you that my dryer has balls.  Please don't ask me what color these balls are.  I am sharing my fun gradually and I'm just not ready to be THAT funny!

Spaghetti For Breakfast

Scott was away at a two week class on the east coast.  We were happy that he had this awesome opportunity to learn from the best at the FBI Academy.  We anxiously awaited his calls at  night to hear about his adventures.  And we missed him.

We missed him being with us, but decided to do things a little differently.  We decided to do some of the things that we don't normally do when Scott's around.  We watched shows that we liked.  We had a spa night without interruption.  And we ate spaghetti.  A lot.  Scott isn't much for red sauces.  He actually gets a stomach ache.  So, it would stand to reason I don't make much with red sauce.  This is a challenge for me, but I've gotten pretty good at avoiding and adapting.

Back to the spaghetti.  We made a huge batch.  You know.  The kind you make when you're starving and think that you'll eat more than you actually do.  This was fine for us.  We ate it for supper.  And a another supper.  I warmed it up for lunch again and again.  With all this noodle nibbling I thought the leftovers would disappear sooner.  They seemed endless.  And yet we didn't tire of this favorite meal.

One morning Gracie and I were getting ready for school.  I said what would you like for breakfast?  She looked thoughtful.  How about spaghetti?  Really?  Ok.  I don't see why not.  And we ate the final  helping of spaghetti.  I have to admit I was apprehensive.  Who eats spaghetti for breakfast?  Cold pizza, yes.  But this was different.  As we sat and ate I thought, who says we can't have this meal at this time of the day?  It's warm, it's nutritious and gave us the energy that we needed to start our day.

I thought this would be our little secret.  That was until I got to work.  I worked at Gracie's school.  I was barely through the front door and greeted by a member of the staff with, spaghetti for breakfast?  And then another and another.  Really?  Spaghetti?  And I found myself defending my actions.  We ate well, warm and have energy.  Lots of joking ensued and I have to admit it was all worth it.  Unusual news travels.  Especially when it comes from a giddy first grader.

I've pretty much stuck to actual breakfast foods in the morning since then.  But on occasion I will venture from the norm.  I think I'm better for it.  I'm not wasting food and my hunger is satisfied.  Like this morning.  I went to the grocery store.  As I was putting the groceries away I saw a small container of chili in the refrigerator.  It pains me to throw food away.  And I was hungry.  So guess what I had for breakfast?  Here's to spontaneity.  And here's hoping that we always leave ourselves open to looking at things differently.

Resolutions, Smetherlutions

Here we are about to ring in the new year.  Out with the old and in with the new.  So they say.  How many resolutions have I made and not kept.  Tons.  That's how many.  And then there have been the years that I don't feel it's worth it to even try.  Why disappoint myself?  I'm just setting myself up for a let down.

Do you ever wonder how much money is spent on stuff that involves resolutions?  All of the exercise equipment, juicers, magic diet pills, and the list goes on.  I'm not anti-resolution.  I fully support healthy choices and positive moves that make more time for faith, family and friends.

I've tried all of the promises to myself and they really haven't worked out that well. In fact I often do the opposite of what was planned.  So that's what I'm going to do.  The opposite.  Stay with me.  This  is a little confusing.  Here goes.

I am going to eat more and sleep less.  I am going to spend lots of money.  I will cut back on my exercise routine.  I will spend less time with family and friends.  I won't read as much.  I will cut back on my walks with the dogs.  I will watch more tv.   I hope I don't have to travel at all.

In my goofy way of thinking, I feel I may have discovered a new way to keep my promises, my resolutions.  They say that opposites attract.  Maybe if I resolve to do the opposite of what I say it will actually happen.  Yep.  A reversal of thinking.  I'm liking it.  I think this may actually work for me.  Oh wait, I'm pretty sure that this will be a complete failure.  Wink.

Color My World

So I saw my therapist today.  We spent time catching up.  Even when you've found someone that you can confide in, there are common pleasantries that occur.  How is Scott?  And Gracie?  How is work going?  You get the picture.

After that we get into deep discussions.  About life.  About the holidays.  How we celebrate them and what is positive and negative about this time of year.  We discuss holidays that have passed.  We talk about loved ones that are no longer living.

We talk about how it is important to take care of yourself during stressful times.  We chat about the old example of the airplane emergency advice.  You know the one.  Where the flight attendant tells you that in case of emergency you should put your oxygen mask on before you help others.  We talk about how counterintuitive this sounds to us, how it is part of our DNA to help others first, even though we completely understand the deeper meaning of taking care of yourself so that you can help others.

And as the minutes pass and our time is up, I feel refreshed.  I feel like I've solved some problems.  I feel lucky to have someone I trust to bounce ideas off of.  I sort of feel like a new woman.   I'd like to think that I look renewed, too.

We bid each other farewell.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, too.  And I schedule my next appointment for six weeks from today.  In February I will do this again.  I will see my hair designer for another therapy session and coloring of the grays.  I look forward to it.  Always.

Owls

I'm not sure when my fascination with owls began.  I remember my Mom and Grandma making oil paintings that had owls on them.  The detail was spot on.  They would paint on pieces of wood and the end result was gorgeous.  I also love the fact that these creatures are nocturnal and can turn their heads up to 270 degrees around.  Phenomenal.  Maybe that's when it started.

Fast forward to now.  I have a few owl items dispersed throughout the house.  There is kind of an artsy one made of metal, wire and stones.  It's up high on a book shelf and surveys all of the happenings in the kitchen/dining room.  I have a picture of an owl in our bedroom.  I love the colors in this picture.  It matches our mossy greens, reds and blues. Perfectly.There are a few other owls in the house, but not many.

Then the catalog came.  Pottery Barn.  My favorite.  I found an owl in the catalog that is ceramic. The price was more than I was willing to spend.  Trying to be patient, I waited. And I waited some more.  Then I just happened to be at the mall.  The home of Pottery Barn.  I walked into the store and there it was.  My owl.  It was still regular price, so I pulled myself away.  Just then a sales clerk walked up to me.  Let me check on the price was what she said.  No discount.

The sales clerk then got very close to me and whispered, are you my friend?  Without hesitation I answered yes.  I'll be right back she said.  Within seconds she was back with a 40 percent off coupon.  For friends and family.  She said, I'm Sharon by the way.  I'm Ann, I said.

At the checkout she greeted me by name.  Hi Ann, did you find what you were looking for? Indeed I did, Sharon.  I handed over my 40 percent off card and smiled.  This owl was coming home with me.

This owl now sits in the middle of the dining room table.  It was made for this spot.  I really enjoy this ceramic owl.  I enjoy the journey I took in buying the owl more.  I met someone who has a great sense of humor and is spontaneous just like me.  Life can be a hoot.  I know that you get that.