Hey? You Still There?!

 New Year's resolutions...don't most people make them?  And more currently rather than making resolutions, I've seen folks choose a word that they hope will embody all that they aspire to be and do in the new year.

I love the idea of New Years. I'm just too old and lame now to care about ringing in the new year at midnight, mildly tipsy and feeling a little bit giddy with anticipation and expectation.  Instead, I get super excited about writing things down in the new calendar/planner that I have so carefully chosen to organize my life for the next 12 months.  

I know, I know, I am so wild these days!

I still do love a good resolution though.  Nothing too expansive or implausible.  Here's a few things I've included on my list for 2024:

1.  Revisit retirement investment options. (How very adult-y) 

2.  Make dentist/dr. appointments for the next year.  (How incredibly lame.  Responsible, but lame.)

3.  Make a point to get together with my girly friends once a month.  (Enough said...)

4:  Keep work stuff out of our home.  (Also enough said...)

5:  Read more.  Write more.  (Ok, I'll admit it: knit and sew more.  Could I be any lamer?!)

6.  Be more aware of how I'm fueling my body.  (I really need to be able to continue running and lifting for another 20 years or more so the people in my life will not suffer unfairly.)

7.  Call my kids more often.  And take pictures of things we do when we're together.  (All of our pictures burned in the fire so I guess we'll start over.)

I have used the "Level 10 Life" template, inspired by the book, "The Miracle Morning" by Hal Elrod, to influence my resolutions for the upcoming year.  I like the concept of making small, mindful tweaks to my everyday routines in order to "level up" life.  I gotta say though, my life is pretty great as it currently stands and there's not much I really want or need to change up.  For that, I am grateful.    Eternally so.

I miss writing here.  But in the past many years, I've also become a little more private about sharing too much about my life.  Partly because I don't seem to have much interesting stuff to write about.  Partly because I want to be respectful of my people and not put any of them on center stage by sharing too much.  And partly because I want to keep all my dirty little secrets hidden away from prying eyes and the tittle-tattle of gossipy tongues.  (What kind of dirty little secrets do I hide?!  Does she use *gasp* boxed cornbread?  Acrylic yarn?!  Tide laundry soap?!  You'll never know....)

I do hope to write more often in this upcoming year, probably for my own satisfaction than for anyone else's benefit.  We shall see just where this goes.  But happy new year to everyone...may this one be full of exactly what you're wanting.

50

 Today would be Bill's 50th birthday.  

I'm spending the day doing the kind of stuff I have pretty much always done on or around September 2nd;  canning applesauce, digging potatoes, making chocolate cake, reading a book.  Thinking about what to make for dinner.  Maybe going for a little adventure to find a new coffee shop. (Because birthdays are made for adventures and coffee!) 

Bill didn't like to make a fuss about his birthday.  Usually just cake and milk and maybe dinner out.  Oh, and Carmelizers.  *insert eye roll here

Simple stuff.  

Simple.

Sometimes I think I might have forgotten what simple is and how to do it.

I think simple is making the conscious choice to tune out the noisiness that is ever-present in our life and just be.  Like just accepting where we might be, allowing things to just be how they are.  Not adding or subtracting.  Not trying to control or influence anything.  

Just being.  

This is one of Bill's favorite quotes.  I like it.  

I Think I've Written About This Before

 but I'm feeling like it might be something that I need to revisit many times.  Slow learner, maybe?

It's funny how unexpected things can spark something in us and cause us to have an epiphany of sorts.  Out of the blue, something we read or hear can make us feel like, wham, clarity.  Or sometimes, wham, you're an idiot.  

So I'm going to admit something.  Something I'm not particularly proud of.  Maybe even slightly embarrassed of, truth be told.  I watch "And Just Like That."  There, I've said it.  I am a pathetic middle-aged woman who regularly watches trashy television.  (If you're not familiar with this show, it is the sequel to the popular "Sex and the City" series.  But now the characters are middle-aged.  I'm not sure that I can even relate, but watching certainly makes my time on the treadmill scoot right along.)

Ok, so now that I've fessed up my dirty little secret, let me tell you about what part made me have the wham-o moment.  The main(ish) character is reading an excerpt from a book she has written and (I paraphrase here) says that we will all find ourselves needing to outgrow parts of our lives in order to keep living.  Even icky stuff that seems insurmountable.  It might still be big and ugly and scary, but we will, hopefully, grow bigger and stronger than the ick.  And when we grow, figuratively, (hopefully not literally) we will have to leave parts of ourselves behind.  Like after you have a baby and can't fit into those size 2 jeans anymore....you just throw that shit in the Goodwill bins and get the stretchy pants.  Evolution and good riddance!  Probably not the greatest analogy...

For some silly reason, this scene in the episode made me hop on the siderails of the treadmill and take a minute to consider deeply what I'd just heard.  Wham. 

I think we are supposed to stop trying to keep the status quo of our lives.  We are supposed to be open to giving up control of things we think we need to have control over.  We need to unlearn the way we've done things before and be open to learning a new way to live.

Flexibility?  Surrender?  Being in the moment and not worrying about the past or future?  I like these ideas.

Lately I have really struggled with my place in life.  My kids are *mostly* grown and don't need my help like they used to.  I've always been a Mom so this transition into not being a daily Mom has been surprisingly difficult for me.  I have felt lost and untethered.  Now, this could also be a symptom of menopause, but we can talk about that on another day...  My days have always revolved around kids and their accompanying detritus. What the heck do I do now?!

That is the million dollar question:  What the heck do I do now?  I have time. I have income.  I have freedom. I think I even have a certain amount of experience and wisdom.   And I feel lost and unsure of what I even like or who I even am.  Gosh, I reread that sentence and it sounds so melodramatic!  But I'm pretty sure I need to feel like this and embrace the unknowing in order to figure out the answers to the afore mentioned questions.   And then relearn me.  Hmm.  I kinda like how that sounds.  Relearn me.  

As always, I am open to suggestions. 

A & W

 I went to A&W for dinner tonight.  I drove through the familiar drive-thru and picked up dinner for Jake and me since it was just the two of us at home this evening.  Sitting in that familiar parking lot waiting for my food, I was struck with the longevity of the relationship I had with A&W throughout my life.  My. Entire. Life.  

My grandparents lived almost across the street from A&W.  Their house is no longer standing and the property no longer resembles the park-like fairyland I remember loving to explore.  The daffodils still bloom there in the spring.  I always find a day to sneak past the barrier fence that now surrounds the property and pick every single one of those flowers.  I still think of them as "mine."  A&W was always a part of visits to my grandparent's house.  If we spent a summer morning picking raspberries, it was assured that we would run past the fish pond, traverse the path that ended by the railroad tracks, and then cross the street to the A&W to pick up a quart of soft serve.  Soft serve and fresh raspberries are a delicious memory from my childhood.   Sigh.  Sometimes we would head over to the restaurant on Friday nights because the shrimp basket would be the daily special.  And the glass gallon jugs of rootbeer were the perfect addition to homemade ice cream, ala rootbeer floats.  Later, when my Grandma deemed me old enough, I was allowed to walk to A&W with an older cousin (by ourselves!) to get an ice cream cone.  It's lovely to remember those times.

I remember, also, the real fireplace that once stood in the center of the restaurant.  It always seemed so cozy inside when it was burning.

My first job offer was at A&W.  When the Dark family owned the restaurant I recall John Dark offering me a job once I turned 13 (I was about 9 years old at the time).  I was absolutely smitten with the idea of working there and I was probably also smitten with the attention of Mr. Dark!  For years, in the back of my mind, I figured I could buy all the things I could possibly ever want with the promise of a paycheck from that job.  (I never did work there!)

Let's not forget about Dwight.  Dwight was a stuffed Rootbeer Bear from the A&W that my childhood friend, Mimi, loved above all other toys.  Dwight came to all the slumber parties with us, accompanied us to a teddy bear tea party, and was always where Mimi was.  Dwight was another part of A&W that permeated my life.  Dwight, if you're reading this, I miss you.

Remember going to the A&W after high school games?  I remember sitting in a booth with so many friends, sharing smothered fries and floats. There might be a fight in the parking lot to watch in awe-filled silence.  There might be the boy you liked sitting in the booth behind you.  There would be gossipy conversations, sidelong glances at your crush, and so much laughing.  A&W after a game was often the start of a night to remember!  IF you could get someone to answer the phone and take your order!

Once I grew up and had my own kids, the A&W was one of the first restaurants they visited.  By now the fireplace in the middle was gone and the interior had been remodeled.   It was no longer necessary to go outside to use the bathroom!  And there was the addition of a playground.  My kids were raised on rootbeer floats, cheese curds, and Baby Burgers.  

Do you remember the abandoned mini golf course in the overgrown lot behind A&W?  It was the stuff of classic horror movies!  I was probably 10 years old when my older brothers led me through the maze of dilapidated putt-putt holes, disappointed that we never had the chance to play a round.  Today there are apartments in that space.  Always makes me kinda sad.

I can only hope that this iconic restaurant stays around for the remainder of my life.  Maybe that's where someone can sprinkle a few of my ashes someday.

The Good, and Especially the Bad.

 It's easy to be happy and love life when things are good.  Everyone is healthy.  There is nothing lacking or missing.  There are no impending disasters.  Drama is kept at bay.  Life is full of fun and excitement.

Status Quo.

But that sort of existence can be the norm for only so long.

So what happens when a catastrophe, big or small, smacks you right in the face?  Can you still be happy?  Can you still keep going?

Freaking heck yeah you can!  

In fact, adversity is the very thing that strengthens our own self as well as our relationships with other people.  Shared hardships forge layers of depth in any relationship and that depth is what creates strength.  Think of a tree with deep roots.  That tree, with those deep roots, will remain standing despite wind and snow, and drought.  Withstand.  Overcome.  Remain.    

Now I'm not saying that we must suffer, often and intensely, as the only way to grow deeper.  That sounds like a terrible way to live!   What I mean is that we need to keep those adversities in perspective and allow them to expand us.  And then dig deep and stay the course.  

And in between the rough days?  That's when you appreciate and delight in the good.  That's when you are able to be grateful and draw from that well-created depth and revel in the profound happiness that is yours. Shared good things also grow us and create depth.

The contentedness of simple things will feel so good.   

Like Melville says in Moby Dick, you cannot fully appreciate anything without a contrasting feeling to compare it to.  You cannot appreciate good without accepting and embracing bad.  

I guess I'm old enough to have learned and understand this principle.  At least I try to most days!  I will take the bad, and I will let it add another layer of depth and wisdom to me, and then I will love the good with a freeness that makes it all worthwhile.

Be like a tree.  Sorta.