Thursday, November 10, 2011

blithering...


I'm trying so hard to walk away from this blog. I don't want to delete it - all my favorite things are on here and it's a piece of me. But for the life of me I can't figure out a way to copy it without losing my header. And my three columns. So it sits private and sometimes it hurts people's feelings. Well, not really, but I get email from people saying, "Please let me in" . . . they get that snarky message saying "you have not been invited to read this blog." Like it's personal. I swear it isn't.

One day a few months ago I was eating my lunch at my desk. I'm fairly certain I could tell you what lunch was since I've eaten the exact same thing for just about every day for the last year or more. I digress. I looked at my statcounter and saw someone in my office was reading my blog - like at that very second. REAL TIME. And the two (or three) people I know at my office, well, it wasn't them. I've blogged about my privacy issues before. That did me in. Nail in the coffin. For the one millionth time, I swear I'm quitting.

No segue...

I went to See's candy to take advantage of a $2 coupon. I am that cheap. I had to spend $25 to save that $2, but by golly I was going to do it. So I bought two one-pound boxes to put away for the holidays. I needed two more, but I needed to come back another time to save that $2. I will spend that in gas. This is part of getting old. Know it.

When I entered the store I was the only one in there. I was close by the cash register hoping to score some half price marshmallow pumpkins for my spouse (no such luck) when the woman gave me my sample. It happened to be their mocha cream, one of my favorites. I left my sample on the counter and turned the corner to hand pick each piece to go inside my two boxes. An older woman (maybe in her 70's) came into the store, browsed a little and then walked over to the cash register area and scooped it up. My mocha cream. Later she stood in line next to me and accepted her free sample from the saleswoman with a smile on her face. I wish I could explain her guilty look. She had one. I paid for my two pounds of chocolates and was jumping for joy (inside) over saving that $2, but I couldn't help myself. I slipped a note to the extra sweet cashier. It said, "She ate my sample." Can I tell you, we laughed and laughed and laughed. It was like therapy. She said, "You have no idea what I see here. People eat candy off the floor." It amused me for the rest of the day.

No segue...

I came down with a little stomach virus this weekend. It slammed me. I had a light breakfast Saturday morning and took out my ironing board. A small pile was all I had to do. It hit (that virus), so I gave in and turned the television on in a way I haven't in a very long time. I watched movies and covered up in thick down comforters.

If you haven't seen The Joy Luck Club in a long time, rent it. It is such a (good) reminder of how complicated lives can be. And it made me think . . . if you ever think you really know your mother, watch this movie. It will make you rethink everything. We probably never really share everything.

Little Women? Do it. I know it isn't the real Orchard House, but it made me feel like it was.

Home Alone. If only for the music . . . but to me, so much more.

Eat, Pray, Love. I have to admit there are parts of the "eat" journey that just plain bother me. Julia Roberts eating Napoli pizza, large bowls of pasta and gelato? My own personal issues with food (loving it too much) kind of get in the way of this part of the movie. I'm 99.9% certain Julia hasn't really eaten very much since she saw herself in Mystic Pizza. It doesn't seem truthful to me. Sometimes I have difficulty suspending disbelief while watching a movie, even though I know it's pretend. Best example? Cher playing a lawyer. I could be wrong, but I have a vague recollection Julia may have admitted she calorie restricts (strenuously) to her BFF Oprah. So as much as I enjoyed the "eat" part of her journey because the food was beautiful, I had difficulty finding her likable in that part of the trilogy. I just know she didn't eat that pasta. Issues. But Javier . . . I love you.

No segue...

I've blogged before about thinking about loved ones who have passed away on their birthdays rather than they day they left this life . . . but my Mum . . . it's a little different for me. Being there with her was a deeply beautiful experience. There really aren't words. A couple of weeks ago was that day. I smiled when I got up that morning. My Mum had a favorite comb. I loved to tease her about it. It was ancient, the kind of plastic bendable comb that had smaller tines on one side than the other. She was a little bit of a braggart about it when I teased her because it was over 50 years old. I don't use a comb, but if I did I'm pretty sure I wouldn't know where it was in much less than a decade, never mind five decades. One year she put it in an empty bracelet box and wrapped it up and gave it to me for Christmas. More laughter. One Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago I took it out of the box . . . and I used it. And that's when I realized... no wonder she hung onto this for so long. THIS is a good comb!

My mother was smart, and not just about combs. She had a tremendous vocabulary and a memory like none other. She had many letters and initials after her name representing her various educational achievements. This time of year I think what she was the very best at (besides packing the best school lunch one could ever hope for) was making holidays magical. My life has been a quest to match her pursuits in that arena. I do believe I will most probably never live up to her example. But that's okay . . . because it was an outstanding gift.

Go bake something.

post signature