Total Satisfaction

Yesterday, I went out into my vegetable garden and cut six stalks of rhubarb. I brought the bounty inside and washed and peeled it and cut each stalk into one inch bits. Then I got out my 1968 Better Homes & Gardens cookbook and used a recipe in it to make pie crust. I mixed the rhubarb and other ingredients and poured it into the pie crust. After the pie baked and cooled, my husband and son-in-law ate it and made all the appropriate sounds. My husband even said, “Will you marry me?” I felt competent and proud and very in touch with the earth….could there be a better definition of total satisfaction??

Nearly Dying

We came home from Taos in a snowstorm and I drove most of the trip which ended up taking the better part of two days. I was tired from gripping the wheel and focusing on near whiteout conditions but then I started feeling exhausted. Naps were deep unconsciousness and night time sleeping was overpowered by dreams. I dreamed of all the terrible things I did to my children when they were younger and felt so bad I wanted to immediately call them up and beg forgiveness. That feeling stayed with me during the day and I began to think I was dying. After all, my life was flashing before my eyes and isn’t that what they say happens when you die? Food held no interest for me…how could I eat when I thought of what a terrible mother I had been? For two days, I dragged myself around the house…no energy despite all the sleep. I had dark circles under my eyes and imagined that my skin tone was grey…another sign of my imminent demise. Then suddenly, yesterday I awoke full of energy. Food looked and smelled appealing again. My husband thinks I had a virus of some kind. I think my kids, now adults, know I love them and will have to forgive me. Life goes on…and it is good once again.

Mine…All Mine

This is my journey. It is mine…you have yours…sometimes they overlap but they are never the same. I’ve been on my journey a long time and I have read a great deal of spiritual literature. Over the years, I have determined that inadvertenly, I do not always say the right thing. Unfortunately, I do not always do the right thing. But I sincerely hope that I have the right intentions. I can’t change you, I can’t make you learn anything; I can hold you in the light and I can recognize teachable moments…that is about it. As I have come down this path, I have discovered that I pray only two prayers – one is a prayer of gratitude. I am thankful for experiences, no matter how painful and memorable, that have brought me here. The other prayer is acceptance…I am accepting the wonderful blessings being bestowed on me every day. Sometimes the blessing is a small one – lunch with a loved one – and sometimes it is a bigger one – a check found in unclaimed property- all wonderful blessings in my life. Elizabeth Edwards of NC lost her 16 year old son in a freak accident. Someone said to her that people say awful things in condolence. She replied, “When that happens, I always tell myself that they meant to say the right thing.” I try to think of that wise woman and the Five Simple Rules for Happiness: Free your heart from hatred. Free your mind from worries. Live simply. Give more. Expect less. The rules of the road on the journey of life.

Absolution

Today is our 16th wedding anniversary and tomorrow, the 19th anniversary of our first meeting. Red roses awaited me this morning when I woke up and after gushing over them, I asked my spouse, “Out of all the girls milling around you 19 years ago, what made you pick me?” He replied, “You were the nicest person I’d ever met.” Wow, talk about setting the bar high. Anyway, so it got me to thinking about my behavior and I just want to say this. If I have offended or disrespected you, if I have hovered and smothered you (you kids know I’m talking to you), if I have interrupted you or tried to control you or boss you around (oh, yes, I know I have!) or in ANY way at all hurt your feelings, please allow me to apologize. I am sincerely and genuinely sorry for the times I was not nice to you. I hope you can forgive me and absolve me of those times. I want to be as nice as my husband believes I am and I promise I will continue to strive for that high standard.

Himself a Story

On Wednesday night, I attended my first in a series of four classes on short story writing. The location was downtown Denver, the Captiol Hill area. Through the goodness of MapQuest, I found the corner, parked the car and began to wander up and down the short block. It seemed to be one business after another…a shop, a photographer, a salon…and then I decided to check the address number…..1116, 1112…where was 1114? Ah, here it is….a dark blue door, paint chipped and cracked, a door knob grimy with the years and a hand lettered sign “Writing Class, Please Ring Bell.” I pushed the bell and waited. In a minute, the door was opened by a white haired gentleman, holding a barking schaunzer, who said, “Come in, come in!” In front of me was a wide staircase, obviously built in a time when labor was cheap and so was lumber, meant to convey a sense of grandeur. Now the carpet was ratty and spotty and the handrail was shaky. We made our way up the stairs and there on the landing were numerous plants, a bicycle and a refrigerator. He opened the door, one of four, next to the antique appliance and we stepped back in time. Except for the obvious fact that the carpet had been peed on numerous times by the dog, the apartment hadn’t been touched in decades. On the right, in the kitchen, original tile hung on the walls, a gas stove in the popular rust color of the 1960s sat against a wall and a table and two mismatched chairs followed the inward slant of the floor. Off the kitchen was a balcony, littered with bits and pieces of broken equipment with a view of an alley. He ushered us – there were two of us – into a small room where he had set up a rectangular table and two chairs. Despite the odor and the appearance that the seat would not hold my weight, I sat down. He sat on a stool, facing us and began to talk about the short story. His notes were written on a notepad provided by a pharmaceutical company and he soon told us that he had been in the hospital. Throughout the course of the two hours, he shared that he has been in a war (Vietnam?) and had been a newspaper man, had lived in Greece a couple of years and was “a wild man painter in my younger years.” At the end of the class, the other student and I navigated the foyer and descended the rickety stairs, turned the aged door knob and were almost startled to find that Capitol Hill still existed in 2009! Now I need to get to work on my short story….and I’m thinking our instructor could easily be the main character!

A Few More Musings

So let’s see if I’ve got this right. Former Pres. Bush:
* took the US to war against oil rich Iraq over weapons of mass destruction…which did not exist (sorry it ruined your career, Gen. Powell, we all liked you).
* would not allow the impact of lives lost in the war to be shown to the American people via flag draped coffins returning home
* did not report the cost of the war in the US budget
* had a vice president who profited from Camp Anaconda being built 6 months before the war began and from KBR, the contractor who fed the troops hamburgers, hot dogs and chicken nuggets
* could not get bank reform passed in the Congress
* did not monitor the car manufacturers in the US who continued to make gas guzzlers – demanding more gasoline be imported from countries who hate us
* feels he was elected President and his terms were a big success
Hmmmmm….. interesting stuff, isn’t it? Does anybody wonder why we’re in a mess right now? Well, stick around….things will get better and the US will emerge “better than ever.”

Mama Mia

We saw the stage show Mama Mia here in Denver about a year ago. And recently we watched the movie on DVD. I have only one thing to say. Pierce Brosnan is undoubtedly one of the four most handsome men in the world….maybe the universe. But he should NEVER sing again! NEVER!

Political Musings

I just ached for Bobby Jindal on Tuesday night. He followed Pres. Obama’s speech with what was probably meant as a rebuttal. I think Gov. Jindal is sincere and genuine…but he came across as a bad actor. He mentioned issues that Pres. Obama had just addressed, he put the emphasis on the wrong word of the sentence and appeared almost pitiful. He’s young and he can recover.
I heard a commentator on PBS last night say that if Gov. Jindal and Sarah Palin are the future hopes for the Republican party, it’s in sad shape. I have to agree.
It seems to me that Republicans like Gov. Schwarzenegger and Gov. Crist have the right idea. They have both said that whatever is best for the citizens of their states is the path they will take. Good for them. It also seems to be that the “oldsters” like McCain and McConnell can just step aside. They don’t want to get on board the recovery, they just want to complain about how bad things are.
History will judge Pres. Obama as the saviour of America because the US will come back stronger from the current economic mess and it will happen on his watch. I think it’s a little short-sighted to criticize….take the long view, be positive and show energy now….eight years can be a long time.

Breakfast of the Pampered

Since a couple of respiratory issues have had me in their grip, my sweet husband decided to pamper me this morning.  “Don’t get up,” he said, “I’ll fix breakfast after I walk the dog.”  I rolled over and savoured the extra time with my pillow.  Soon they were back and I could hear the familiar sounds…..dog kibble clanking into the metal bowl, coffee beans being ground with a whir, and silverware tinkling as it came out of the drawer.  I wrapped my fuzzy robe around me and strolled in to find my seat at the table.  “Mmmmm,” I said, “smoothies.”  Strawberries and yogurt and a little honey, unbeatable recipe…but soon I  was picking pieces of plastic out  of my mouth.  “Dear,” I asked as gently as possible,”did part of the packaging find its way into the blender?”  “Oh, no,” he replied confidently, “that’s honeycomb.  I plopped the comb in when I poured in the honey.”  “Oh, right,” I replied, deciding that a sip of coffee might wash it down.  I lifted the coffee mug to find big black chunks floating in the liquid.  “Oh, about the coffee,” he said watching me, “the basket didn’t close all the way so there are a few grinds in the drink.”  “No problem,” I replied meaning it.   In spite of it all, I felt pampered and well cared for….but I think I’ll feel well enough tomorrow to fix breakfast.

In Memorium

Kay Yow
1942-2009