Looking Forward To Something…

Original post: January 14th, 2011

AnticipationI am a big advocate of looking forward to things. I’m not talking about the big things that most people look forward to like weddings, babies, graduations, Christmas, getting your first novel published, getting your blog on Freshly Pressed. I am talking about the little ones. The ones in between the big ones, that get you through a rough day. The silly ones that the only person getting excited about them is you.

This month (Jan 2011) I am looking forward to:

  1. Spending 17 days in my own house. I have been here 1.5 days now and I am still grinning like an idiot. I am even happy cleaning things here.
  2. Sleeping with my husband for the first time this year.
  3. Sleeping in my own wonderful bed, instead of mom’s lumpy couch.
  4. Tomorrow night I get to hug and play with my granddaughters.
  5. My daughter and I have a “True Blood” marathon planned to finish Season 3 we started this summer. During the day, we will do some serious shopping. We both are practically naked these days – she losing the “baby weight” and I never got a skinnier wardrobe after I lost all that weight.

It doesn’t take much to please me (unless you ignore my birthday, anniversary or Valentine’s Day –  my expectations are a lot higher than reality on those days). I look forward to trying out the new shampoo I bought, making a new recipe, organizing my files (again). One of my favorite things to look forward to is “my day”. A day that I do not go to work, have no errands to run, no obligatory visits, nothing on my calendar. Days like that do not come along often. When I realize one of my days is possibly coming up, I am gliding along in anticipatory joy.

Sometimes I waste most of the day because I can’t figure out what I want to do. I have so many things I want to do that I can’t make up my mind. Sometimes I am couch potato, watching movies On-Demand. In the Spring I answer to the Call of the Wild and try to find my flowers under weeds. Most of the time, I “putter”. Sort of a female version of what my grandpa and my dad used to do out in the garage. That’s what my grandma called it. Puttering. It means doing whatever strikes your fancy in the moment.  When I retire, I am going to be a full-time putter-er.

In our new house we plan to retire in, my husband has a huge “shop” to putter in. I have a little corner office, off the entryway. It is shaped like a bay window. There is a doggie-door built into the wall of my little office. I SO look forward to having a dog again.

I am also an advocate of giving someone else something to look forward to. If you can manage to do that, you have made their world a brighter and happier place. Come on, you know what makes someone happy, so do it already!

Greyhound University

GreyhoundOriginal post: 3/24/2011

Things I Learned on a Bus

I didn’t know it at the time, but I lived a sheltered life. Although we were  not one of those perfect TV families, my parents held traditional roles and values. Dad left every morning for the office. He mowed the lawn and  went golfing with his buddies on the weekend.

Mom took care of  the house and did the usual stuff mom’s do in between hollering at her kids. She made casseroles and roasts. She baked. She sewed like a professional and created dresses using Simplicity patterns and imagination. What I wouldn’t give for some of her haute couture now!

Pardon me for veering off subject…

My best friend & cousin, Margaret Sue, also was living in a similar state of shelteredness*. This could have been because our dad’s were raised by the same parents, or because the suburbs in the 50’s & 60’s promoted this. Regardless – we were as naive and clueless as 9-year old girls could be. Unfortunately, we were 14.

Maggie and I begged her mom to let us take a trip to Oklahoma to visit Maggie’s sister (my cousin) Kathleen. She was married and living close to the military base where her husband was stationed. A road trip would be so cool! We could buy tickets with our babysitting money and hang out with adults who were not our parents.

After swearing and promising to all that is Holy, listening to many words of wisdom and caution, we were allowed to buy tickets. Yippee!! Altus Oklahoma, here we come. In addition to our own suitcases, we stuffed a small travel case with SweetTart’s,  Smartee’s, M & M’s, licorice, PayDay’s, candy corn, Pixie Stix, and a box of Little Debbie’s. For emergencies.

The trip from St. Louis to Tulsa is estimated to take 11 hours. Our bus departed the depot at 11:00 PM. 15-minutes down the road we were pummeled by a thunderstorm.  I sat in the first row behind the driver, so I could watch the storm from the large front windshield.  I could not see the road 5 feet in front of the bus. I did notice the speedometer needle pointing to 80 mph.  Things learned on a bus #1: Bus drivers must have radar or excellent night vision.

Rolla, MO.  We stopped long enough to pick up a new passenger. This woman was all dressed up and wearing enough make-up for 5 women. She was possibly the skinniest person we had ever seen. Mag and I suspected she got a bit tipsy at whatever party she came from. Or maybe she wobbled because her shoes had the highest spiked heels we’d ever seen. Things got interesting 20 minutes later when Miss Party, who did not have a ticket or the money to buy one, tried to negotiate (loudly) with the bus driver.  The driver, after informing her that he did not allow junkie whores on his bus, left her at the side of the road.  Things learned on a bus #2: Do not attempt to hitchhike on a bus.

When things quieted down, Mag and I decided to separate so we could stretch out across a row of seats and get some sleep. It was a good plan.

Fort Leonard Wood. MO. A new passenger boards. This time it’s a young guy in fatigues, straight from the Army’s Boot Camp. Mag and I gave each other a look that said “what a HUNK!” He had a bottle of something wrapped in a paper bag that he pulled from his duffel bag and drank from. He offered Mag and I some – we blushed and declined.

Just as I nodded off, something woke me. Soldier boy had moved over to my row of seats and sat next to me. I was flattered. And scared out of my mind. When his hand somehow made it over to my thigh, I lifted it and put it back in his lap, saying nothing. I tried to be lady-like about it, but I must have been too subtle. 3 minutes later my thigh once again had company. I excused myself and moved back to Maggie’s row. Obviously he failed to notice that I was jail-bait and as my Grandma put it, “a late bloomer”. Things Learned on a bus #3: Soldiers do not have night vision.

Springfield, MO. Breakfast stop. Mag and I stumbled off the bus like zombies, into what must have been a “greasy spoon”. There was a buffet set up for us Greyhound people who had to be back on the bus in 45 minutes. I think I took some of each item offered. My body cried out for sugarless nourishment. I also desperately needed coffee, but I did not drink it back then.

One of the buffet attendants was either a psychotic lecher, or just “not right”. As Mag and I went through the line he blatantly stared at us. Through his coke bottle bottom lenses, his eyes were grotesquely magnified, making his stare even more disturbing. We ate as fast as we could and were back on the bus with 25 minutes to spare. To this day I remember that guy and shudder. Things learned on a bus #4: Pack your own food and leave the bus as little as possible.

We arrived in Altus, OK without further incident late that afternoon. We were gritty with road dust and sleep deprived. And very happy to be there.

11 hours on a bus is more than enough. The strangest part about our return trip? I can’t remember a thing about it. Not one little thing.

Weird.

———————–

* taken from The Words That Should Exist Dictionary

Me vs. MS Word

Future Cookbook

You know you’re in trouble when the Help menu – doesn’t.

I have taken MS Word classes and I have gone crawling to the Help menu many times.

I still cannot get my cookbook’s headers and footers to format correctly. Instead of doing a “work-around” (modern word for what my grandpa called jerry-rigging), I refuse to move on to Plan B. Which means I’m stubbornly frustrating the crap out of myself. I hate it when I do this. Yet here I am.

As soon as I heard about the NaNoWriMo thing (National Novel Writing Month), I got excited because this could really get me moving. Unfortunately, I also got blocked. I have not been able to think of any ideas to write about in my blog, so how could I write a novel?  My confidence is shot, and I blame MS Word for this because I am spending way too much of my writing time surfing the web for forums, articles, anything that will explain to me how I can fix this mess I call a Cookbook.

Hope your weekend has been more productive.   At least the 49er’s were productive this morning and we are 7-1 now! Maybe I’ll sneak in a nap now while hubby and buddy are hogging the TV watching NASCAR (YUCK!), and maybe I’ll dream about something good to write a novel about.  It could happen.  Either way I need the sleep…

😉