Yesterday, the day after Thanksgiving has become known as Black Friday because it is the biggest shopping day of the year.The term Black Friday was coined because the profits of this day help the stores end the year in the black.
I have noticed that every year the shopping begins earlier and earlier. This year most of the big chain stores opened at 5 am. However, some shoppers camped out overnight so as to be the first in the door at some stores. I read in the paper that many shoppers come with a game plan.
Well, I had a game plan for Black Friday too. I stayed home. My husband and I learned our lesson several years ago when we went to Best Buy on Black Friday because they had a great deal on a computer that we needed badly since our other one had died shortly before. At that time, the shopping day began at 7 am and we were there for the opening of the store along with several hundred other shoppers, all of whom seemed to want the same computer deal. Three hours later, we managed to escape the store with our purchase in hand, but our sanity left behind.
Now every store opens at 5 am except for one shoe chain that opened at 4:44 am! Wow, just what I always wanted to do ...... try on shoes at 4:44 am! But I bet some fools do. The latest I read in the paper today is that Black Friday is now being called one of the most popular sporting events in the United States. Well, I decided that sitting on the side lines is more fun than participating.
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Friday, October 20, 2006
Measure once, cut twice???
My husband's hobby is home improvement projects. Right now we are remodelling our house. Actually we are always in a constant state of demolition, deconstruction, and construction. I literally live in a construction zone where the furnishings often consist of ladders, sawhorses, a reciprocating saw, wet tile saw, and a pneumatic nailer, along with a huge blue shop vac on wheels that I call Robo-Vac. Dust and debris are my constant companions.
In his defense, my husband does really quality work. It just takes forever for him to complete. Amazingly, he is the creative one. But often his ideas come in the midst of construction. His method of construction is what I call build/design. This can be very frustrating at times.
Recently, he had one of those days...you know, the kind where nothing seemed to go right. No fewer than four times did he mis-measure the sheetrock we were hanging. I kept telling him that he needed to measure twice and cut once. Somehow the instructions must have gotten turned around in his mind cause he kept mis-measuring and having to recut his pieces. At the end of the day, he complained about how little he got done....
Sweetheart, listen to your wife. It is measure twice, cut once. NOT measure once, cut twice!
In his defense, my husband does really quality work. It just takes forever for him to complete. Amazingly, he is the creative one. But often his ideas come in the midst of construction. His method of construction is what I call build/design. This can be very frustrating at times.
Recently, he had one of those days...you know, the kind where nothing seemed to go right. No fewer than four times did he mis-measure the sheetrock we were hanging. I kept telling him that he needed to measure twice and cut once. Somehow the instructions must have gotten turned around in his mind cause he kept mis-measuring and having to recut his pieces. At the end of the day, he complained about how little he got done....
Sweetheart, listen to your wife. It is measure twice, cut once. NOT measure once, cut twice!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Hurricanes and Resilience, Part 3
I often marvel at how resilient human beings are in the face of adversity. When we are hit unexpectedly by an act of nature, we discover just how good our coping skills are. Sometimes we learn just the opposite. Such was the case for me in July 2005. We got hit smack dab in the face with reality. My husband handled it very well, but I did not. It still affects me today. And just when I should have been writing in this blog as an outlet, I quit.
A number of years ago we purchased a small cottage on St. George Island of the North Florida Gulf coast near the town of Apalachicola. Apalachicola has been described as what Key West was before anyone discovered it. Like many barrier islands, St. George Island (SGI) is about 27 miles long, but very narrow and is located about 90 miles from Tallahassee. Given the narrow, winding, two lane roads, it becomes an approximate two hour drive. Some close friends of ours had the house for years, using it as a weekend retreat. When all their kids were out of their house in Tallahassee, they decided to move to this very small house. After one year there, they decided to become permanent residents there and build a larger home on the Bay side of the island.
At the time we purchased our little house about 11 years ago, SGI was mostly undeveloped and populated by a combination of old time residents and weekenders plus a growing number of rental houses, most of which were along the Gulf or across the road from the Gulf. This little house was three blocks inland and on a dirt road with no cable available. Most of the permanent residents lived on these inland roads and the area was so undesirable for investment and rental purposes, that our house and area in which it was located were valued similar to mainland property.
We decided that our goal would be to spend two weekends a month down there. What happened was that we ended up spending nearly every weekend down there plus our vacation time. There were only two houses nearby, both of which were occupied by full time residents. Nearly all the vacant lots around us were also owned by one of the permanent residents. We came to love the quiet and solitude of our little place and would leave immediately from work on Friday afternoon and not return until Monday morning. I would bring my work clothes into the office on Friday and we would leave SGI at about 5:15 am so that I would arrive to my office by 7 am which was my usual time of work.
After I retired in 2001, I began spending more and more time there and eventually we made it our permanent residence. About this time, prices began to rise and more and more huge rental houses were being constructed. Still we felt secure because the lots around us were owned by our neighbor. We had told him that if he ever wanted to sell any of the lots adjacent to us, to let us know. Well, that did not happen and our neighbor sold a block of 12 lots to a developer which included lots in front of us and on both sides. It was only when a "sold" sign went up that we were aware of the sale.
Within one year, the lot to the west of us which had been lower than ours was filled in to a height of more than five feet above our property. Later that year, a huge rental house with a swimming pool was constructed on that lot. Not only did we lose our privacy, but we gained the noise associated with a rental home and parties out by the pool at night. Still the worst was yet to come.
In July 2005, hurricane Dennis threatened the north Florida Gulf coast. Dennis was a relatively weak hurricane (Cat.1 or 2) and its track took it to about 125 miles west of SGI. Apalachee Bay, where SGI is located, is very shallow and therefore vulnerable to storm surges. Forecasters had predicted a storm surge for our area of Apalachee Bay of between 5-8 feet. Most residents of the island remained, but several friends who lived in lower areas went to a rental located in higher area in the center of the island. They brought their boat and a trailer to our house for safe keeping since the base elevation of our lot was 9 feet. And because our house was three blocks inland, it was relatively safe from the predicted surge.
The storm surge from Dennis hit on a Saturday night. The next morning we received a call from our friends telling us to get down to the island right away because our property had sustained major storm surge damage. My husband went down there immediately.
Most of our end of the island from the Gulf to the main road was under water. Our property is another block inland from the main road, but my husband could not get to it because the storm surge had washed away our driveway and left an eight foot deep gully where it once was and along the side of our house next to the big rental house. The front of the property toward the Gulf was fine because the water ran naturally over the land and under the house like it should. However due to the filling in of the lot next door, the water funneled along the side with such a force that it destroyed a natural dune and our bulkhead walls, and created the gulch where our driveway once was. Since the water had to cross the main road which is approximately at an elevation of 12 feet, my estimate is that the storm surge was somewhere between 13 and 15 feet.
I have tried but it is hard to express in words what I felt when I saw this and how deeply it affected me to this day. Everything changed.
A number of years ago we purchased a small cottage on St. George Island of the North Florida Gulf coast near the town of Apalachicola. Apalachicola has been described as what Key West was before anyone discovered it. Like many barrier islands, St. George Island (SGI) is about 27 miles long, but very narrow and is located about 90 miles from Tallahassee. Given the narrow, winding, two lane roads, it becomes an approximate two hour drive. Some close friends of ours had the house for years, using it as a weekend retreat. When all their kids were out of their house in Tallahassee, they decided to move to this very small house. After one year there, they decided to become permanent residents there and build a larger home on the Bay side of the island.
At the time we purchased our little house about 11 years ago, SGI was mostly undeveloped and populated by a combination of old time residents and weekenders plus a growing number of rental houses, most of which were along the Gulf or across the road from the Gulf. This little house was three blocks inland and on a dirt road with no cable available. Most of the permanent residents lived on these inland roads and the area was so undesirable for investment and rental purposes, that our house and area in which it was located were valued similar to mainland property.
We decided that our goal would be to spend two weekends a month down there. What happened was that we ended up spending nearly every weekend down there plus our vacation time. There were only two houses nearby, both of which were occupied by full time residents. Nearly all the vacant lots around us were also owned by one of the permanent residents. We came to love the quiet and solitude of our little place and would leave immediately from work on Friday afternoon and not return until Monday morning. I would bring my work clothes into the office on Friday and we would leave SGI at about 5:15 am so that I would arrive to my office by 7 am which was my usual time of work.
After I retired in 2001, I began spending more and more time there and eventually we made it our permanent residence. About this time, prices began to rise and more and more huge rental houses were being constructed. Still we felt secure because the lots around us were owned by our neighbor. We had told him that if he ever wanted to sell any of the lots adjacent to us, to let us know. Well, that did not happen and our neighbor sold a block of 12 lots to a developer which included lots in front of us and on both sides. It was only when a "sold" sign went up that we were aware of the sale.
Within one year, the lot to the west of us which had been lower than ours was filled in to a height of more than five feet above our property. Later that year, a huge rental house with a swimming pool was constructed on that lot. Not only did we lose our privacy, but we gained the noise associated with a rental home and parties out by the pool at night. Still the worst was yet to come.
In July 2005, hurricane Dennis threatened the north Florida Gulf coast. Dennis was a relatively weak hurricane (Cat.1 or 2) and its track took it to about 125 miles west of SGI. Apalachee Bay, where SGI is located, is very shallow and therefore vulnerable to storm surges. Forecasters had predicted a storm surge for our area of Apalachee Bay of between 5-8 feet. Most residents of the island remained, but several friends who lived in lower areas went to a rental located in higher area in the center of the island. They brought their boat and a trailer to our house for safe keeping since the base elevation of our lot was 9 feet. And because our house was three blocks inland, it was relatively safe from the predicted surge.
The storm surge from Dennis hit on a Saturday night. The next morning we received a call from our friends telling us to get down to the island right away because our property had sustained major storm surge damage. My husband went down there immediately.
Most of our end of the island from the Gulf to the main road was under water. Our property is another block inland from the main road, but my husband could not get to it because the storm surge had washed away our driveway and left an eight foot deep gully where it once was and along the side of our house next to the big rental house. The front of the property toward the Gulf was fine because the water ran naturally over the land and under the house like it should. However due to the filling in of the lot next door, the water funneled along the side with such a force that it destroyed a natural dune and our bulkhead walls, and created the gulch where our driveway once was. Since the water had to cross the main road which is approximately at an elevation of 12 feet, my estimate is that the storm surge was somewhere between 13 and 15 feet.
I have tried but it is hard to express in words what I felt when I saw this and how deeply it affected me to this day. Everything changed.
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Hurricanes and Resilience, Part 2
In January 2005, I wrote a piece titled Hurricanes and Resilience, http://bloggingo.blogspot.com/2005/01/hurricanes-and-resilience.html in which I described how well my 80 something year old parents coped with three hurricanes in a less than three month period during 2004. The community in which they live in Central Florida had the dubious distinction of being ground zero for the eye of three separate hurricanes in 2004. When first hurricane left them without power for eight days, I was amazed at their resilience throughtout their ordeal and their steadfast determination to make the best of a very trying situation.
The last couple of years have been among the worst for hurricanes in the Southeast but Tallahassee, in the Big Bend of Florida, has been largely spared from direct hurricane damage. The last really damaging hurricane to affect Tallahassee was Hurricane Kate in 1985 when nearly the entire electrical system for the city was wiped out by fallen trees. The destruction of the city electrical system was so extensive that the day after Kate hit, only one gas station in town was able to pump. Because my neighborhood was in the unincorporated area, it was eight days before our power was restored. Some homes in my neighborhood went as long as eleven days.
Thankfully Kate hit in November, so the lack of air conditioning was not a problem. However, being mostly in the darkness during the entire time we were home was mind numbing. We were more fortunate than most. We had a gas hot water heater which meant we had hot showers. We also had camping equipment to cook with, a lantern for some light, and and a tiny portable tv that we could plug into the car cigarette lighter to watch the news each night. But each morning we would get up in the dark and get ready to go into work in the dark. By the time we got home in the evening, it would be dark again. Luckily we both worked downtown where the power was first restored. Going into work was the highlight of my day.
In the intervening years, the coastal areas had impacts from hurricanes and other storms, most notably Hurricane Opal in 1995 which hit much further west near Destin, but caused major damage to coastal areas in the Big Bend. But because Tallahassee sits about 25 miles inland from the nearest coastal area, it was usually spared. That was until 1994 when tropical storm Alberto moved into North Florida and South Georgia and stalled while dumping massive amounts of rain over the region.
As a result, 14 homes and several vacant lots in my neighborhood flooded with anywhere from one to three feet of water which came in the middle of the night. One of my friends in the flooded area ais that the water rose so fast that they went from a completely dry backyard to nearly two feet of water in less than an hour and a half. Most of the affected residents barely had time to escape their homes and by the next morning, some of them had three feet of water standing in their homes. Since the area was not in a FEMA flood hazard zone, none of the lenders had required flood insurance, and not a single home of the fourteen had flood insurance.
My entire neighborhood pulled together to help these families clean up and repair their homes. Eventually all the homes were repaired, but the cost to the families was much more than financial. Two couples ended up divorcing, several families sought stress counseling for themselves and their children, and several families moved away. Despite the hardships they endured, most of these families recovered from this disaster to resume productive lives.
The last couple of years have been among the worst for hurricanes in the Southeast but Tallahassee, in the Big Bend of Florida, has been largely spared from direct hurricane damage. The last really damaging hurricane to affect Tallahassee was Hurricane Kate in 1985 when nearly the entire electrical system for the city was wiped out by fallen trees. The destruction of the city electrical system was so extensive that the day after Kate hit, only one gas station in town was able to pump. Because my neighborhood was in the unincorporated area, it was eight days before our power was restored. Some homes in my neighborhood went as long as eleven days.
Thankfully Kate hit in November, so the lack of air conditioning was not a problem. However, being mostly in the darkness during the entire time we were home was mind numbing. We were more fortunate than most. We had a gas hot water heater which meant we had hot showers. We also had camping equipment to cook with, a lantern for some light, and and a tiny portable tv that we could plug into the car cigarette lighter to watch the news each night. But each morning we would get up in the dark and get ready to go into work in the dark. By the time we got home in the evening, it would be dark again. Luckily we both worked downtown where the power was first restored. Going into work was the highlight of my day.
In the intervening years, the coastal areas had impacts from hurricanes and other storms, most notably Hurricane Opal in 1995 which hit much further west near Destin, but caused major damage to coastal areas in the Big Bend. But because Tallahassee sits about 25 miles inland from the nearest coastal area, it was usually spared. That was until 1994 when tropical storm Alberto moved into North Florida and South Georgia and stalled while dumping massive amounts of rain over the region.
As a result, 14 homes and several vacant lots in my neighborhood flooded with anywhere from one to three feet of water which came in the middle of the night. One of my friends in the flooded area ais that the water rose so fast that they went from a completely dry backyard to nearly two feet of water in less than an hour and a half. Most of the affected residents barely had time to escape their homes and by the next morning, some of them had three feet of water standing in their homes. Since the area was not in a FEMA flood hazard zone, none of the lenders had required flood insurance, and not a single home of the fourteen had flood insurance.
My entire neighborhood pulled together to help these families clean up and repair their homes. Eventually all the homes were repaired, but the cost to the families was much more than financial. Two couples ended up divorcing, several families sought stress counseling for themselves and their children, and several families moved away. Despite the hardships they endured, most of these families recovered from this disaster to resume productive lives.
Monday, May 23, 2005
The Weight
My husband and I have been working on a kitchen remodelling project for nearly two months and we are still in the demolition stage. Against my wishes, we have been doing all the work ourselves and it has taken an emotional toll on me. Dealing with clutter, debris, dust, and inconvenience has made me miserable. The frustration of living out of boxes and camping out in my own house has worn thin.
Intellectually, I know that when this is done, we will be so glad that we remodelled and that it will add value to our home. But it seems like it is taking so long to even get started, that I wonder if I will ever see it completed. The stress of this project has been weighing very heavy on me and has made me short tempered and negative.
An very insightful friend recently told me something about myself that hit close to home. My friend's observation upset me very much because it was so close to the truth. It also made me think about how sometimes what appears to be a very good thing can have a very negative effect on people, like this project has to me and I don't like feeling that way.
Often during times like now, a song will run through my head for no apparent reason. Later when I look back on it, that song is very significant to what I am feeling at the time. The song that has been running through my head a lot lately is "The Weight" by The Band, which was on one of my favorite albums of all time, Music From Big Pink.
Intellectually, I know that when this is done, we will be so glad that we remodelled and that it will add value to our home. But it seems like it is taking so long to even get started, that I wonder if I will ever see it completed. The stress of this project has been weighing very heavy on me and has made me short tempered and negative.
An very insightful friend recently told me something about myself that hit close to home. My friend's observation upset me very much because it was so close to the truth. It also made me think about how sometimes what appears to be a very good thing can have a very negative effect on people, like this project has to me and I don't like feeling that way.
Often during times like now, a song will run through my head for no apparent reason. Later when I look back on it, that song is very significant to what I am feeling at the time. The song that has been running through my head a lot lately is "The Weight" by The Band, which was on one of my favorite albums of all time, Music From Big Pink.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Yesterday
Yesterday marked thirteen years since my father in law died from a heart attack. He had suffered a heart attack twenty years earlier and had undergone quadruple by pass surgery two years before. We all knew he was living on borrowed time, but it did not make the shock of losing him any less.
My father in law was one of the most outgoing, upbeat, people oriented, and fun loving people I have ever met. He sure could tell stories, many of which we heard over and over. He did not have an enemy in the world. I miss him very much still.
My father in law was one of the most outgoing, upbeat, people oriented, and fun loving people I have ever met. He sure could tell stories, many of which we heard over and over. He did not have an enemy in the world. I miss him very much still.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Why Is It?
Yesterday it rained heavily here. Our house is on a dirt road that turns to muck every time it rains. I had to make a trip to the post office which meant driving down the muddy road. As I was carefully negotiating around the mushier parts of the road and the puddles, it suddenly occurred to me that how odd my driving was. My car is eleven and a half years old with its left rear quarter panel damaged from an accident and it was definitely not clean to begin with. So why was I taking such great care to avoid the muck and puddles?
We all have certain conditioned behaviors that are not necessarily bad, but really do not make much sense. Avoiding mud and puddles in an already dirty car is apparently one of mine. I laugh when I think about it. I also laugh at a certain other behaviors that fall into that same "why is it" category.
One of the oddest and one that I cannot explain to myself involves the Suwannee River which is a major river here in Florida. The Suwannee River is a very picturesque river that inspired Stephen Foster to write a song about it, even though it is said that he never saw it. Every year, there is a major music festival held in White Springs at the Stephen Foster Folk Center on the Suwannee River.
The Suwannee runs north and south from the Georgia line to the Gulf of Mexico, just north of Cedar Key on Florida's west coast, thus bisecting Florida. I live in the northern part of the state and west of the river, so every time I travel south, I must cross the Suwannee River. There is no getting around it regardless of the route I choose.
While I love the Suwannee River, for some unexplained reason, I am always feel compelled to lift my feet off the floor whenever I cross it. I have been doing this as long as I can remember and I haven't a clue as to why. Like trying to keep the mud off an already dirty car, this is one of those "why is it" things. Harmless, yet curious.
We all have certain conditioned behaviors that are not necessarily bad, but really do not make much sense. Avoiding mud and puddles in an already dirty car is apparently one of mine. I laugh when I think about it. I also laugh at a certain other behaviors that fall into that same "why is it" category.
One of the oddest and one that I cannot explain to myself involves the Suwannee River which is a major river here in Florida. The Suwannee River is a very picturesque river that inspired Stephen Foster to write a song about it, even though it is said that he never saw it. Every year, there is a major music festival held in White Springs at the Stephen Foster Folk Center on the Suwannee River.
The Suwannee runs north and south from the Georgia line to the Gulf of Mexico, just north of Cedar Key on Florida's west coast, thus bisecting Florida. I live in the northern part of the state and west of the river, so every time I travel south, I must cross the Suwannee River. There is no getting around it regardless of the route I choose.
While I love the Suwannee River, for some unexplained reason, I am always feel compelled to lift my feet off the floor whenever I cross it. I have been doing this as long as I can remember and I haven't a clue as to why. Like trying to keep the mud off an already dirty car, this is one of those "why is it" things. Harmless, yet curious.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Growing Old and Growing Up, Again
It has been over a month since I last posted an entry here. Time flies even when you are not having fun.
Since my last entry, I celebrated another birthday in late April. Every year as my birthday approaches, I struggle with my emotions over this event. Logic tells me that I should be happy that I am alive and healthy. However, the event reminds me how much society stereotypes us even by a number.
A person's age automatically defines who they are to others. My number is up there and yet I do not look, act, or feel as old as my age is seen by our society. My tastes are much more those of someone in their 20's or 30's. My driver's license photo looks like a person 20 years younger than my age. Thank goodness for small favors in life. My outlook is that of today, not of the past.
But I have spent most of my life marching to a slightly out of step and different drummer. Because my path has been different from the expectations that society imposes on us, I often feel as if I don't fit in anywhere. So it is with my age. I am still a twenty something year old stuck in a middle age body. It seems as though society expects us to conform to the preconcieved notions of what a person of my age should be. I'm not buying it. If that is the case, I never want to grow up.
Since my last entry, I celebrated another birthday in late April. Every year as my birthday approaches, I struggle with my emotions over this event. Logic tells me that I should be happy that I am alive and healthy. However, the event reminds me how much society stereotypes us even by a number.
A person's age automatically defines who they are to others. My number is up there and yet I do not look, act, or feel as old as my age is seen by our society. My tastes are much more those of someone in their 20's or 30's. My driver's license photo looks like a person 20 years younger than my age. Thank goodness for small favors in life. My outlook is that of today, not of the past.
But I have spent most of my life marching to a slightly out of step and different drummer. Because my path has been different from the expectations that society imposes on us, I often feel as if I don't fit in anywhere. So it is with my age. I am still a twenty something year old stuck in a middle age body. It seems as though society expects us to conform to the preconcieved notions of what a person of my age should be. I'm not buying it. If that is the case, I never want to grow up.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
I Did Not Write This
I did not write the following, but the person who did could have written it about herself. What she did was write this because she knew that I was feeling unappreciated. Sometimes a few kind words can really make a person's day. The following did just that for me. Thank you, Jena, for understanding and empathizing. You are the one who taught me about being a friend. You are truly the one who ROKs!
"Earlier this morning, while chatting with one of my internet friends, I was once again reminded of how wonderful it is to have her friendship.
NEVER ONCE during our brief friendship, has she ever failed to lend an ear if I needed someone to talk too.
Her friendship is something that I will always treasure! I just hope that I give her the same sort of strength that she gives to me.
I know this is one of those mushy posts, but it's something that I wanted to share.
If at some point today, you talk to one of your internet friends. Take the time to tell them how much you value their friendship.
Don't just need a friend, be a friend...........your life will be blessed because of it!
This post is dedicated to one of the nicest ladies that I've NEVER had the pleasure to meet!
BINGO, you ROK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You've lifted my spirits more often than you realize!"
"Earlier this morning, while chatting with one of my internet friends, I was once again reminded of how wonderful it is to have her friendship.
NEVER ONCE during our brief friendship, has she ever failed to lend an ear if I needed someone to talk too.
Her friendship is something that I will always treasure! I just hope that I give her the same sort of strength that she gives to me.
I know this is one of those mushy posts, but it's something that I wanted to share.
If at some point today, you talk to one of your internet friends. Take the time to tell them how much you value their friendship.
Don't just need a friend, be a friend...........your life will be blessed because of it!
This post is dedicated to one of the nicest ladies that I've NEVER had the pleasure to meet!
BINGO, you ROK!!!!!!!!!!!!!! You've lifted my spirits more often than you realize!"
Friday, March 18, 2005
Is That My Color?
Yesterday was St. Patrick's Day and we attended a covered dish dinner held by a civic organization to which we belong. This organization was created as a vehicle through which a nearby small community could raise funds for its local volunteer fire department and emergency first responders. Since it is a rural community, the dress for its events is usually very casual. For this event, the flyer suggested that everyone wear something green in keeping with the spirit of the day.
I have always said that green is my favorite color. However, when I searched through my newly reorganized closets and very extensive wardrobe, I suddenly realized how few green things I owned. A quick glance at my closet shows mostly black with red and blue pieces mixed in. Over the years, I thought I had remembered wearing a lot of green. Perhaps it was that I remembered wearing green because those happened to be my favorite things at the time. I am not sure, but looking around my house, I realized that there was not that much green in the decor either, although I did recover the seats of some bar stools in a dark green several years ago.
So what makes a color one's favorite color? Is it the color that we enjoy wearing the most or living with, or is our favorite color because of what it symbolizes to each of us? I know that I always liked green because it is tranquil and reminds me of nature, and yet I see very little green in my clothing or home right now.
Recently, my mother told me that she was thinking of repainting the walls in their house a pale yellow because yellow is her favorite color. I knew that my mother wore a lot of bright yellow as well as other bright colors, but was surprised to learn that yellow was her favorite color. Similarly, one of my sisters in law once told me that yellow was also her favorite color. That was a complete surprise because I have never seen her in yellow nor it is used in her home either. Often when I think of people, I do think of them in terms of certain colors. For example, while the concept of yellow being my mother's favorite color is not foreign, I think of her as a bright lime green. My sister in law is definitely a rose or pink person. Those colors look great on her, and she has used a lot of mauve in her home.
Last Christmas my mother in law gave my two sisters in law and me each a decorative bracelet watch. Each watch was distinctly different and obviously chosen with our individual tastes and personalities in mind. My watch was a bold black and white enamel that was very funky and contemporary, while the ones chosen for my sisters in law were both more traditional and subtle. I loved the one that my mother in law had chosen for me and would have chosen that one for myself. When I think of the clothing that my mother in law has given me in the past, nearly everything has been black or red or a combination of those two colors. And I have always loved the things that my mother in law chooses for me.
So whatever happened to my favorite color? Or was it really my favorite color? Or is my favortie color simply the victim of the color professionals who declare the "in" color palette each year? Or is it simply a color whose symbolic qualities I admire but do not really use in my personal choices of clothing and home decor? I am not sure. However, I am beginning to think that my mother in law is right about my colors, and my colors are actually black and red.
I have always said that green is my favorite color. However, when I searched through my newly reorganized closets and very extensive wardrobe, I suddenly realized how few green things I owned. A quick glance at my closet shows mostly black with red and blue pieces mixed in. Over the years, I thought I had remembered wearing a lot of green. Perhaps it was that I remembered wearing green because those happened to be my favorite things at the time. I am not sure, but looking around my house, I realized that there was not that much green in the decor either, although I did recover the seats of some bar stools in a dark green several years ago.
So what makes a color one's favorite color? Is it the color that we enjoy wearing the most or living with, or is our favorite color because of what it symbolizes to each of us? I know that I always liked green because it is tranquil and reminds me of nature, and yet I see very little green in my clothing or home right now.
Recently, my mother told me that she was thinking of repainting the walls in their house a pale yellow because yellow is her favorite color. I knew that my mother wore a lot of bright yellow as well as other bright colors, but was surprised to learn that yellow was her favorite color. Similarly, one of my sisters in law once told me that yellow was also her favorite color. That was a complete surprise because I have never seen her in yellow nor it is used in her home either. Often when I think of people, I do think of them in terms of certain colors. For example, while the concept of yellow being my mother's favorite color is not foreign, I think of her as a bright lime green. My sister in law is definitely a rose or pink person. Those colors look great on her, and she has used a lot of mauve in her home.
Last Christmas my mother in law gave my two sisters in law and me each a decorative bracelet watch. Each watch was distinctly different and obviously chosen with our individual tastes and personalities in mind. My watch was a bold black and white enamel that was very funky and contemporary, while the ones chosen for my sisters in law were both more traditional and subtle. I loved the one that my mother in law had chosen for me and would have chosen that one for myself. When I think of the clothing that my mother in law has given me in the past, nearly everything has been black or red or a combination of those two colors. And I have always loved the things that my mother in law chooses for me.
So whatever happened to my favorite color? Or was it really my favorite color? Or is my favortie color simply the victim of the color professionals who declare the "in" color palette each year? Or is it simply a color whose symbolic qualities I admire but do not really use in my personal choices of clothing and home decor? I am not sure. However, I am beginning to think that my mother in law is right about my colors, and my colors are actually black and red.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Clearing the Clutter
Yesterday I spent most of my day cleaning out closets. They really need it and I have been remiss in doing it for some time. It seems the longer you let things go, the more difficult it is to keep them up. A lot of things in my life has been neglected, particularly around my house.
As we prepare to begin remodelling our kitchen and bathroom, the sheer enormity of clearing out the clutter has begun to overwhelm me. Each time I start on one area and make progress, something seems to happen that sets me back. And so it goes in a ever increasingly cluttered circle.
When more than one person is involved in the creation of the clutter, it takes all parties to remove it. For some of us, it is difficult to physically and emotionally part with things that may have once been dear or valuable, but no longer have purpose. So it was when I started in the kitchen cabinets last week. Who needs three fondue pots that have not been used in 20 years? Or a broken vegetable steamer? While I debated with myself over the merit of owning three fondue pots, I promptly tossed the broken steamer in the garbage, only to see my husband fish it out later in the day. De-cluttering is a frustrating battle in our household.
So I moved on to my closet and clothing. There, I have control and I am making great progress in my effort to simplify and clean out. First I removed everything that was on hangers and sorted it into piles on the bed. I placed all the pants in one pile, jeans in another, sweaters in a third, skirts in a fourth, and finally a small pile of dresses which I draped over a chair. I began with the pants and jeans and tried everything on. The reality of the extra five pounds put on a Christmas struck me harshly, as several pairs of pants were uncomfortably snug. So I made a mental note of seriously watching what I eat and forcing myself to get more exercise. Five pounds on a relatively small person like myself is significant.
As I made my way through the stacks, I began to think about a book I had bought a while back after a friend had recommended it to me. It is called "Clear Your Clutter With Feng Shui." My friend bought it after she and her boyfriend of over eight years had broken up. It made such an impact on her, that she took a week off from work and completely cleaned out her house of the physical clutter. She also began cleaning her mind of the emotional and mental clutter. When she finished, she cut her very long hair and decided to search for a more satisfying job in her hometown. Within months, she found a wonderful job in her hometown, sold her house in less than a week, bought a home five minutes from her new job, and never looked back. She is so much happier now than she has been in years.
Cleaning out the clutter is not just a physical act There is an enormous amount of emotional clutter we all carry around. Lately, I have been thinking about some of the clutter in my life. Non-rewarding relationships, unresolved personal issues, and my hair, my hair, my hair have all been dragging me down. One of the most frustrating things for me lately is the amount of emotional investment I have put into people and things without getting any return. Maybe it is time for me to read the book again. Then I need to get a plan, clean out the physical clutter in my house, and try to change how I deal with the negative people and emotions that have been cluttering my life and hindering me from moving forward.
As we prepare to begin remodelling our kitchen and bathroom, the sheer enormity of clearing out the clutter has begun to overwhelm me. Each time I start on one area and make progress, something seems to happen that sets me back. And so it goes in a ever increasingly cluttered circle.
When more than one person is involved in the creation of the clutter, it takes all parties to remove it. For some of us, it is difficult to physically and emotionally part with things that may have once been dear or valuable, but no longer have purpose. So it was when I started in the kitchen cabinets last week. Who needs three fondue pots that have not been used in 20 years? Or a broken vegetable steamer? While I debated with myself over the merit of owning three fondue pots, I promptly tossed the broken steamer in the garbage, only to see my husband fish it out later in the day. De-cluttering is a frustrating battle in our household.
So I moved on to my closet and clothing. There, I have control and I am making great progress in my effort to simplify and clean out. First I removed everything that was on hangers and sorted it into piles on the bed. I placed all the pants in one pile, jeans in another, sweaters in a third, skirts in a fourth, and finally a small pile of dresses which I draped over a chair. I began with the pants and jeans and tried everything on. The reality of the extra five pounds put on a Christmas struck me harshly, as several pairs of pants were uncomfortably snug. So I made a mental note of seriously watching what I eat and forcing myself to get more exercise. Five pounds on a relatively small person like myself is significant.
As I made my way through the stacks, I began to think about a book I had bought a while back after a friend had recommended it to me. It is called "Clear Your Clutter With Feng Shui." My friend bought it after she and her boyfriend of over eight years had broken up. It made such an impact on her, that she took a week off from work and completely cleaned out her house of the physical clutter. She also began cleaning her mind of the emotional and mental clutter. When she finished, she cut her very long hair and decided to search for a more satisfying job in her hometown. Within months, she found a wonderful job in her hometown, sold her house in less than a week, bought a home five minutes from her new job, and never looked back. She is so much happier now than she has been in years.
Cleaning out the clutter is not just a physical act There is an enormous amount of emotional clutter we all carry around. Lately, I have been thinking about some of the clutter in my life. Non-rewarding relationships, unresolved personal issues, and my hair, my hair, my hair have all been dragging me down. One of the most frustrating things for me lately is the amount of emotional investment I have put into people and things without getting any return. Maybe it is time for me to read the book again. Then I need to get a plan, clean out the physical clutter in my house, and try to change how I deal with the negative people and emotions that have been cluttering my life and hindering me from moving forward.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
A Live Human Being
My husband and I are getting ready to do a major kitchen renovation. Our home is thirty years old and we have lived in it for 22 years. From the beginning, I never liked my kitchen counters and cabinets. The original counters were orange which was a very popular color back in the mid 70's when our house was built. About two years after we bought our house, I tiled over them with an off white tile. The cabinets are a country style, as was much of the rest of the house. Over the years, I have tried to do everything possible to de-countrify our house, including removal of shutters on the outside which gave it a more contemporary look. However, the cabinets with their vertical grooves remained.
My sister in law who is a residential realtor told us that we really needed to update our home if we ever decided to move. Finally, I convinced my husband that we really needed to remodel our kitchen and hall bath. He told me to come up with a budget and plans and then we might do it. I have spent nearly a year doing research and formulating what I wanted. Since we were going to have to replace everything in our kitchen, I figured that I might just go for the layout I really wanted. After several drafts, I came up with a floor plan that opened the kitchen up to our family room and had a counter bar for seating. My husband liked the plan, and when I budgeted it out, it was doable.
My husband's taste reflects that of his mother which is dark wood traditional and somewhat formal. I prefer a cleaner and more casual contemporary look. The clash of different tastes has been a problem for us for years, but I usually have given in. Most of our furniture looks like his mother's house. So the idea of us agreeing on cabinets and decor was a little scary. He told me to pick out a couple of cabinet styles that I liked and then he would look at them. I had one cabinet that I really liked and surprisingly, so did he. It was almost too easy for two people who have such different tastes.
We ordered our cabinets through a home improvement center who placed the order with a national cabinet manufacturer. The cabinets are manufactured only after the order is received. A little over twenty four hours later, a representative of the cabinet company called to set up a delivery date of less than one month. In addition, the representative gave me her name and telephone extension number in case a problem cropped up. I could not believe it. In this day and age of impersonal customer service, I talked to a real human being who gave me her name and phone number. Every so often, just as I become jaded about big business, my faith in customer service gets renewed. It did that day.
My sister in law who is a residential realtor told us that we really needed to update our home if we ever decided to move. Finally, I convinced my husband that we really needed to remodel our kitchen and hall bath. He told me to come up with a budget and plans and then we might do it. I have spent nearly a year doing research and formulating what I wanted. Since we were going to have to replace everything in our kitchen, I figured that I might just go for the layout I really wanted. After several drafts, I came up with a floor plan that opened the kitchen up to our family room and had a counter bar for seating. My husband liked the plan, and when I budgeted it out, it was doable.
My husband's taste reflects that of his mother which is dark wood traditional and somewhat formal. I prefer a cleaner and more casual contemporary look. The clash of different tastes has been a problem for us for years, but I usually have given in. Most of our furniture looks like his mother's house. So the idea of us agreeing on cabinets and decor was a little scary. He told me to pick out a couple of cabinet styles that I liked and then he would look at them. I had one cabinet that I really liked and surprisingly, so did he. It was almost too easy for two people who have such different tastes.
We ordered our cabinets through a home improvement center who placed the order with a national cabinet manufacturer. The cabinets are manufactured only after the order is received. A little over twenty four hours later, a representative of the cabinet company called to set up a delivery date of less than one month. In addition, the representative gave me her name and telephone extension number in case a problem cropped up. I could not believe it. In this day and age of impersonal customer service, I talked to a real human being who gave me her name and phone number. Every so often, just as I become jaded about big business, my faith in customer service gets renewed. It did that day.
Friday, March 11, 2005
A Killer Lives Here
As I have written in my profile, my husband and I have no children, but we do have four dogs. We are fond of saying that our dogs own us, not us them. Three of our dogs are older, between the ages of eight and ten. Willie Bear is our youngest dog at age two and a half. I call him Baby Dog because it seems as though he will never grow up.
Willie Bear is a pomeranian on steroids. At 20 pounds, he is four times the size of a show quality pom. We knew when we got him that he was going to be a larger dog because the parents were 10 and 14 pounds each. Pomeranians are the smallest of the northern spitz dogs. Before the breeders got ahold of them and bred them down to tinker toys, pomeranians were about 30 pound dogs that were used to pull small sleds in the northern countries. Willie Bear is a throw back to what the breed originally was. He has the original, beautiful wolf eyes instead of the bug eyes that the show dogs have. He is all muscle and no fat. Our vet has said that he is the athlete of our dogs.
Nothing about Willie Bear is subtle. Not his size, not the way he struts, not the way he goes out the door or comes back in. When we let him out in the yard, he leaps out the door and he dashes to come back in. Out in the yard, he literally flies about, chasing squirrels and birds and rabbits. He is like a quarter horse in speed compared to the thoroughbred greyhounds. I have never seen a faster dog in a short dash in my life.
On Tuesday afternoon, I let the springers (the Orcas) and Willie Bear out in the back yard. The Orcas don't like to be out there alone for long, so they came right back in. But Willie Bear stayed out like he often does, laying out in the yard for much longer periods, and enjoying the warm spring weather and watching the birds.
When I checked on him later, he was waiting on the back patio, grinning from ear to ear. He had proudly dragged home the remains of a full grown rabbit that he had caught and killed in our back yard. It was fresh and there was very little left of it. Our Baby Dog had caught and tasted what every dog dreams of.......rabbit! Willie Bear may be a rabbit killer, but he is still our Baby Dog.
Willie Bear is a pomeranian on steroids. At 20 pounds, he is four times the size of a show quality pom. We knew when we got him that he was going to be a larger dog because the parents were 10 and 14 pounds each. Pomeranians are the smallest of the northern spitz dogs. Before the breeders got ahold of them and bred them down to tinker toys, pomeranians were about 30 pound dogs that were used to pull small sleds in the northern countries. Willie Bear is a throw back to what the breed originally was. He has the original, beautiful wolf eyes instead of the bug eyes that the show dogs have. He is all muscle and no fat. Our vet has said that he is the athlete of our dogs.
Nothing about Willie Bear is subtle. Not his size, not the way he struts, not the way he goes out the door or comes back in. When we let him out in the yard, he leaps out the door and he dashes to come back in. Out in the yard, he literally flies about, chasing squirrels and birds and rabbits. He is like a quarter horse in speed compared to the thoroughbred greyhounds. I have never seen a faster dog in a short dash in my life.
On Tuesday afternoon, I let the springers (the Orcas) and Willie Bear out in the back yard. The Orcas don't like to be out there alone for long, so they came right back in. But Willie Bear stayed out like he often does, laying out in the yard for much longer periods, and enjoying the warm spring weather and watching the birds.
When I checked on him later, he was waiting on the back patio, grinning from ear to ear. He had proudly dragged home the remains of a full grown rabbit that he had caught and killed in our back yard. It was fresh and there was very little left of it. Our Baby Dog had caught and tasted what every dog dreams of.......rabbit! Willie Bear may be a rabbit killer, but he is still our Baby Dog.
Monday, February 28, 2005
Why Blog?
I haven't posted in a while and I am not entirely sure why. When I made the last two posts about my garden, I had a third in that series in mind. What happened after the second of those posts was completely baffling to me. After never receiving any comments about my blog, suddenly I got several, some made to me personally and others posted on this site. One of those comments, which was innocently made by a good friend, really took me back and made me wonder about why I choose to write the way I do.
What is the purpose of this blog? Originally, this blog was intended to be an introspective look at how every day occurances in my life affect me. It was initially something that I would write only for myself. However, I decided to share this blog with some of my friends and acquaintances. Perhaps that was a mistake because I was not prepared to accept criticism, constructive or otherwise.
Some times things we say or do are not always percieved in the same light that we intended them to be. Is it just miscommunication or it is because we are human, that we often delude ourselves into thinking that others see us the way we wish to see ourselves?
What is the purpose of this blog? Originally, this blog was intended to be an introspective look at how every day occurances in my life affect me. It was initially something that I would write only for myself. However, I decided to share this blog with some of my friends and acquaintances. Perhaps that was a mistake because I was not prepared to accept criticism, constructive or otherwise.
Some times things we say or do are not always percieved in the same light that we intended them to be. Is it just miscommunication or it is because we are human, that we often delude ourselves into thinking that others see us the way we wish to see ourselves?
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Weeding out the Debris
My husband and I are not the neatest people in the world. We have lived in the same house for over twenty years and it is filled with stuff we have collected over the years, but now do not use. Still, we continue to accumulate stuff. I always joked that I did not know whether first we would implode from all the junk in the attic or explode from all the stuff in our closets. Lately, all this extraneous debris has been dragging me down. I have begun to feel very burdened by my possessions.
Yesterday was another beautiful, false spring day, so I went back out to work in my flower beds. The previous day I had started by cleaning up the weeds that had sprung up in the beds because I had failed to maintain them. After having weeded the beds, I realized that they needed some neatening. The largest bed is separated from the rest of the yard by a row of border grass that my husband had planted years ago. I am not a big fan of border grass, but he loves the stuff because it makes it easier fo him to mow our rather large back yard.
With all the weeds gone and the dead tops of the plants cleared out, I noticed that the border grass had substantially invaded my flower beds. Areas that had held irises and daffodils were intertwined with runners and shoots of border grass. The only way to remedy the situation was to dig everything up and weed out the debris. I spent several hours digging up a large part of the border grass and discarding it. Then I had to dig up the other plants to rid the area of where the border grass had sent its runners and was choking out my irises and daffodils. It was a lot of work, but I was giddy with having rid my flower beds of useless debris.
Coming back into my house, the excess physical debris in my life suddenly appeared magnified. All the extraneous junk we have lying around seemed to be begging me to get rid of it. We all carry excess debris in our lives, both in the form of possessions we no longer need and emotional baggage we should have never allowed to burden us. Cleaning out the border grass from my flower beds will allow my plants to be healthier and produce more flowers for our enjoyment. Perhaps, I need to look at weeding the debris out of my life too.
Yesterday was another beautiful, false spring day, so I went back out to work in my flower beds. The previous day I had started by cleaning up the weeds that had sprung up in the beds because I had failed to maintain them. After having weeded the beds, I realized that they needed some neatening. The largest bed is separated from the rest of the yard by a row of border grass that my husband had planted years ago. I am not a big fan of border grass, but he loves the stuff because it makes it easier fo him to mow our rather large back yard.
With all the weeds gone and the dead tops of the plants cleared out, I noticed that the border grass had substantially invaded my flower beds. Areas that had held irises and daffodils were intertwined with runners and shoots of border grass. The only way to remedy the situation was to dig everything up and weed out the debris. I spent several hours digging up a large part of the border grass and discarding it. Then I had to dig up the other plants to rid the area of where the border grass had sent its runners and was choking out my irises and daffodils. It was a lot of work, but I was giddy with having rid my flower beds of useless debris.
Coming back into my house, the excess physical debris in my life suddenly appeared magnified. All the extraneous junk we have lying around seemed to be begging me to get rid of it. We all carry excess debris in our lives, both in the form of possessions we no longer need and emotional baggage we should have never allowed to burden us. Cleaning out the border grass from my flower beds will allow my plants to be healthier and produce more flowers for our enjoyment. Perhaps, I need to look at weeding the debris out of my life too.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
Gardens and Neglect
It was a beautiful springlike day outside today with temperatures in the 70's, so I decided to do a little gardening. I have three small flower beds located right outside the back door. They were poorly maintained during the growing season last year and were left to go completely wild over the winter. Even though we do get some cold weather here in north Florida, it only comes in very short spurts and rarely does much damage. This year, our winter has been very mild, so the weeds and grasses have completely invaded my flower beds.
When the gardening genes were handed out, I was not exactly at the head of the line, but that has not stopped me from trying. Instead of planting flowers that require a lot of maintenance such as roses, I stick to the easy perennials that grow well in our area. The majority of the beds are planted in irises, day lilies, coneflowers, and perennial salvia. I usually fill in with a few annuals like marigolds or pentas. Last year, I let the beds go and did not even bother to plant the annuals. Now I am faced with an enormous amount of work before I can even replenish what was lost to neglect.
As I worked to clean out the weeds and debris in the pleasant warmth of the day, I thought about how much effort in the past that I had put into maintaining my flower beds and how they had rewarded me with beautiful color right outside my back door. For some reason last year, I failed to spend the required time cultivating them. In one short season, the weeds had taken over the beds and were choking the few hardy plants that remained. Just to get my beds back to equilibrium was going to require much more work than if I had maintained them all along. In order to successfully grow, a garden needs a lot of attention and care.
So it is in life. Relationships must also be cultivated. As I cleaned the weeds from the garden, I was reminded how I cannot allow neglect to erode my personal relationships either.
When the gardening genes were handed out, I was not exactly at the head of the line, but that has not stopped me from trying. Instead of planting flowers that require a lot of maintenance such as roses, I stick to the easy perennials that grow well in our area. The majority of the beds are planted in irises, day lilies, coneflowers, and perennial salvia. I usually fill in with a few annuals like marigolds or pentas. Last year, I let the beds go and did not even bother to plant the annuals. Now I am faced with an enormous amount of work before I can even replenish what was lost to neglect.
As I worked to clean out the weeds and debris in the pleasant warmth of the day, I thought about how much effort in the past that I had put into maintaining my flower beds and how they had rewarded me with beautiful color right outside my back door. For some reason last year, I failed to spend the required time cultivating them. In one short season, the weeds had taken over the beds and were choking the few hardy plants that remained. Just to get my beds back to equilibrium was going to require much more work than if I had maintained them all along. In order to successfully grow, a garden needs a lot of attention and care.
So it is in life. Relationships must also be cultivated. As I cleaned the weeds from the garden, I was reminded how I cannot allow neglect to erode my personal relationships either.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
The Faucet of Friendship
I belong to an internet message board for sports. Through that board, I have made a number of friends and have even met some of them for sporting events. Others I call friends even though we will never meet. The number of people who post on this board is rather large, and yet the board has a warm family atmosphere.
Among those whom I call friends from the board, there are probably about 8-10 that I consider "good friends." These 8-10 people are those whom I always try to be supportive of when they have a problem or need someone to talk to. Likewise, I had thought that I could count on the group as being there for me if I need someone too. My internet friends are another group of people that I care about just like my friends here at home. The only difference is that they are my long distance friends.
Friendship is not something I take very lightly. It is more than just an acquaintanceship and more than just turning the friendship faucet on and off. In the past, it has usually been me who was there for others, but recently, I needed some emotional support and sought it from my group of close friends.
Lately, there has been a lot of stress in my life culminating two weeks ago with the funerals of two people I knew occurring in the same week. What surprised me was that the very internet friends in whom I had invested the most energy and support in the past were not nearly as supportive as I expected them to be. I got plenty of support from other friends and acquaintances, but not from the three people I thought I was closest to. It was so disappointing and it hurt me deeply.
Since then, at least one of those friends has had some problems and I reached out again to them. I truly was worried about the situation and let them know how much I cared. They seemed to appreciate me when they needed someone to talk to. However, when I recently asked that friend as to how things were going, they first ignored me and then blew me off. I was completely dumbfounded. I do not understand how someone can turn friendship on and off like a faucet with no apparent rhyme or reason for the friend left standing in the cold.
I really care for people. It is a basic part of my generation. However, nowadays I am learning that most people really do not give a damn about others. The internet has created a safe haven that gives them a degree of anonimity. This anonimity allows them to be rude and callous, by turning the faucet of friendship on and off to suit their own needs while ignoring those of the person who thought they were a friend. They don't even seem to realize that they are hurting others in this way.
Friendship is a two way street. When it is only one way, the giver gets emotionally depleted and the relationship dies. Right now I feel very emotionally depleted. It hurts so deeply!
Among those whom I call friends from the board, there are probably about 8-10 that I consider "good friends." These 8-10 people are those whom I always try to be supportive of when they have a problem or need someone to talk to. Likewise, I had thought that I could count on the group as being there for me if I need someone too. My internet friends are another group of people that I care about just like my friends here at home. The only difference is that they are my long distance friends.
Friendship is not something I take very lightly. It is more than just an acquaintanceship and more than just turning the friendship faucet on and off. In the past, it has usually been me who was there for others, but recently, I needed some emotional support and sought it from my group of close friends.
Lately, there has been a lot of stress in my life culminating two weeks ago with the funerals of two people I knew occurring in the same week. What surprised me was that the very internet friends in whom I had invested the most energy and support in the past were not nearly as supportive as I expected them to be. I got plenty of support from other friends and acquaintances, but not from the three people I thought I was closest to. It was so disappointing and it hurt me deeply.
Since then, at least one of those friends has had some problems and I reached out again to them. I truly was worried about the situation and let them know how much I cared. They seemed to appreciate me when they needed someone to talk to. However, when I recently asked that friend as to how things were going, they first ignored me and then blew me off. I was completely dumbfounded. I do not understand how someone can turn friendship on and off like a faucet with no apparent rhyme or reason for the friend left standing in the cold.
I really care for people. It is a basic part of my generation. However, nowadays I am learning that most people really do not give a damn about others. The internet has created a safe haven that gives them a degree of anonimity. This anonimity allows them to be rude and callous, by turning the faucet of friendship on and off to suit their own needs while ignoring those of the person who thought they were a friend. They don't even seem to realize that they are hurting others in this way.
Friendship is a two way street. When it is only one way, the giver gets emotionally depleted and the relationship dies. Right now I feel very emotionally depleted. It hurts so deeply!
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
Growing Old and Growing Up - part 3
Today I met with five former co-workers for a lunch. We had a great time together. It was wonderful to see them, but it also reminded me that we are getting old. Five of us are retired and four of us no longer work at all.
Growing old and growing up are not one and the same. I am growing old, but still cannot accept growing up. When will it happen? Maybe never for me.
Growing old and growing up are not one and the same. I am growing old, but still cannot accept growing up. When will it happen? Maybe never for me.
Monday, January 31, 2005
Reality of Life
Saturday was a very tough and emotional day for me. I attended the memorial for a former co-worker and friend who had died suddenly in December. He was three years younger than me. This was my second service in a three day period for someone who had died. Now that I am in middle years, I have come to realize that events like this will be happening more and more often.
The memorial was held at a beautiful new home of a couple that my deceased friend knew. Many of our former co-workers were also in attendance, so in some way, it was also a reunion. One of my closest friends drove two and a hours from another city to come to the memorial. A former high school friend of deceased travelled all the way from Colorado.
The reality of my own mortality and that of friends and family is now all too real.
The memorial was held at a beautiful new home of a couple that my deceased friend knew. Many of our former co-workers were also in attendance, so in some way, it was also a reunion. One of my closest friends drove two and a hours from another city to come to the memorial. A former high school friend of deceased travelled all the way from Colorado.
The reality of my own mortality and that of friends and family is now all too real.
Friday, January 28, 2005
A Loony Old Lady
Yesterday was my friend's father's funeral. Because he was so old, I was surprised that over 200 people attended the service. The church bells tolled 89 times, one for each year of his life. Immediately following the service, we all gathered in one of the church halls so that my friend's family could greet all the people who had taken the time to attend the funeral. My friend's 85 year old mother stood for over an hour and a half greeting each attendee personally.
As we were talking to some of the people there, an elderly woman came up and started talking with my husband and my friend's younger brother and sister. This lady (Miss H) had been their kindergarten teacher. When my husband mentioned that he had gone to kindergarten at that school, the woman asked what was his name. After he told her, she remarked that she remembered him and made several specific comments about him. He looked completely surprised by what she said.
As we walking to the car, he turned to me and said, "That woman was a loony. She had to be blowing smoke. I don't remember her." I asked him if Miss H was his kindergarten teacher or not. He replied that he did not remember who was his teacher, but said that no one could remember their students from 50 years ago. I commented that the woman seemed very sharp.
My husband dropped me off at my friend's mother's house while he went to visit his own mother who was home sick with the flu. While there, he told her about Miss H and the comments she had made about him. His mother then said, Miss H was right and she WAS your kindergarten teacher!
As we were talking to some of the people there, an elderly woman came up and started talking with my husband and my friend's younger brother and sister. This lady (Miss H) had been their kindergarten teacher. When my husband mentioned that he had gone to kindergarten at that school, the woman asked what was his name. After he told her, she remarked that she remembered him and made several specific comments about him. He looked completely surprised by what she said.
As we walking to the car, he turned to me and said, "That woman was a loony. She had to be blowing smoke. I don't remember her." I asked him if Miss H was his kindergarten teacher or not. He replied that he did not remember who was his teacher, but said that no one could remember their students from 50 years ago. I commented that the woman seemed very sharp.
My husband dropped me off at my friend's mother's house while he went to visit his own mother who was home sick with the flu. While there, he told her about Miss H and the comments she had made about him. His mother then said, Miss H was right and she WAS your kindergarten teacher!
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