At the Dentist

dentist

 

I had extensive dental work done recently.

My dentist is a very kind, gentle woman who makes the experience as easy as possible. So instead of being tense and alert, worrying about whether or not something would hurt, I was able to let my mind wander.

While I was ensconced in the dental chair, unable to go anywhere while two people worked on my mouth, I started to think about several things.

I wondered about the first people and what they thought happened when a child was born. Were they surprised? Did they know what it was? Did they nurture the child?

After ruminating about this for a while, I began to think about the Universe and the existence of God. I concluded that, for me at least, that there must be a God.

Then I thought about death and the afterlife.  I wondered what death was like—do we just go to sleep and lose consciousness?  Are we reunited with those we loved in life who went before us? Is there really a place or state of being called heaven?

Finally, I decided that it didn’t matter because if there is a heaven, living a moral life would certainly merit that reward. And if there isn’t an afterlife, well, we lose nothing by being moral.

I found it amusing that I used to wonder how much longer the procedure would take, and if and when it was going to hurt…

Ah, the marvels of modern and pain free dentistry!

 

Image source myteeth.co.za

 

 

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My Love Affair

 

I have had a love affair with the beach since –well, my earliest memory.

The sound of the surf as it rolls onto the shore is a comfort to me. The sand between my toes and the fresh, salt air are sensory delights.

To me, the beach is an ever-changing scene: boats drift or seem to fly by, with sails that can invoke the colors of the rainbow or resemble white sheets  drying in the breeze. Some bob out far enough that I wonder what they are doing—fishing, or are they out for a cool day on the water? The cruise ships appear to be stationary out in the deep sea, especially at night when their festive lights outline them.

Seashells are the souvenirs of a beach visit. I enjoy walking along the shoreline, stooped over, hunting for a uniquely colored shell or one that is a different shape. I take a few each time, so that I can remember that day at the beach.

When I was a kid, my family went for picnics to a favorite place called Miller’s Beach several times a week. My Dad would arrive home from a steaming hot day at the steel plant. Mom would literally wrap the dinner she had on the stove up in a blanket and we would head off to the freshening breezes of Lake Erie.

We could hardly wait to run to the sand and surf as soon as we arrived. Dinner outdoors was delicious—no matter what was served.

I especially loved to watch the sun go down over Lake Erie—sometimes the sunsets were the proverbial blaze of color. Other times, the sky would turn the color of liquid silver and the water would reflect that back, the orange setting sun a burst of light that made it all even more magical.

I still long for the beach…and feel that same child-like delight at my first glimpse of the ocean.

 

 

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Going AWOL

 

My dog, Sparkle, went AWOL a few nights ago.  She’s back home where she belongs  now, and I’m being  vigilant about  making sure I know where she is at all times.

Here is the (almost) tragic tale.

It was a dark and gloomy night—okay, it was the latter part of the evening after a rainy afternoon.  I had gone shopping for much needed food. When I got home, we went for one of our walks. I was relaxing by playing my usual word games on the I PAD—a marvel of modern technology that allows a person to waste all sorts of time. I assumed (thus making an ass of –well, you know) that Sparkle, my delightful companion, was lying on the floor near where I was sitting.  I got up to stretch my legs and noticed that she was nowhere in sight.

“H-m-m,” I thought, “She must have gone to lie down on her doggie bed in my bedroom.” (I’m sure she thinks of it as her bedroom.)

She wasn’t there. I checked a couple of other known “dens”—no dog. Now I was worried.  So I called her name. I heard a faint bark coming from the garage area.

Heading that way, I wondered if she was hiding in the closet in the guest bedroom where she and Dan used to hangout.  No sign of her there, either.

When I opened the back door, I saw that I had left the door from the garage to the street wide open.

Then I saw it…Sparkle’s toy right next to my car which was parked in the garage!

And there is all her doggie glory was Sparkle—sitting on the grass. She must have followed me into the garage when I was unloading the groceries, and found herself locked out of the house.

I called her and she came right in.

After we were securely ensconced on the couch, she laid across my lap for a half hour, just wanting to be petted. I hope that she has learned her lesson.

I had a hard time getting to sleep that night thinking about all of the frightening things that could have happened: She could have been run over by a car, gone for a walk and gotten lost, been snatched by an alligator, been bitten by one of the many critters in our neighborhood…the list was unnerving.

I hope that the next time Sparkle decides to go AWDaddy's GirlOL, she’ll get a pass from her commander -in -chief–me!

 

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I Turned Around

 

 

I turned around and my daughter was leaving home for college. She was eighteen, a pretty, raven haired girl.

We packed her stuff (there was a lot of it) into her red car and our car, too, and drove to the Southern Tier of New York State.

Dan bought walkie-talkies so we could communicate. From time to time, he made her call me to tell me that I was driving too fast. I was aggravated then, but now this memory makes me smile.

I turned around, and it was time to say goodbye. In a cavernous dining hall in Binghamton, we embraced our lovely daughter whose tears mingled with ours.

We drove back home, a four hour trip, alternately crying and driving. Dan kept saying, “Just keep busy. It’s like a death…” I was annoyed by these words, but now I know he was right.

I turned around and my daughter was living on the other side of the continent. Our visits were happy occasions, but too far apart. Dan said, “At least she didn’t move to Alaska.”  And that was our comfort.

I turned around and she became a professor at a University and found her soul mate and life partner.

I turned around, and Dan and I left our friends and family and moved to the land of “always summer.”  We made a new life for ourselves and basked in the sunshine and warmth of friendships. Visits home were joyous and nostalgic.

I turned around and Dan was seriously ill with a life threatening disease. He recovered and we adjusted to our “new normal.”

I turned around and the unwanted visitor came to our door again. He forced his way in and sent our lives into a tailspin.

I turned around, and Dan was a man old before his time, emaciated, lying on his death bed in Hospice House. At first, he knew his life was ebbing away. There came a time when he no longer seemed to understand that, mercifully. But he clung to life like a baby to his mother. His days became a living death.

I turned around, and he was gone. And I was alone.

I turned around, and my life changed in ways I could not have foreseen.

 

 

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I Am A Bookaholic!

booksIt’s true.

I looked it up on the internet, and I present these typical symptoms:

  • I will sit and read for hours at a time, sometimes until my eyes are so tired I can hardly focus on the words on the page.
  • There are stacks of books everywhere in my house—on tables, on chairs and footstools and, of course, in bookcases.
  • I have been known to not answer the phone if I am in the middle of a chapter that I find fascinating.
  • When I finish a book, I am anxious and at loose ends until I start the next one.
  • I think about the characters even when I’m not reading the book.
  • I have a Kindle and an I Pad with books loaded on them.
  • When I read a book for my book club, I can’t wait to discuss it.
  • I find it hard to give books away—even ones that I know I will never read again.
  • I love libraries and bookstores.

I’ve been like this since I was a child, so I think that my case may be hopeless.

When I was a kid, my sister complained that I read too much and wouldn’t put my book down to play. And one of my teachers thought that I might have read every book in our local library.

Friends have suggested a support group to help me deal with this addiction… but I can’t go anywhere until I’ve finished reading this chapter.

 

Picture Credit: Kathy Joyce Glascott

 

 

 

 

 

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A Taste of Home

I think everyone who moves away from home nostalgically remembers foods they loved and can’t get anymore.

New Yorkers wax poetically about bagels, pizza and well, just about everything else. Those of us from Buffalo have a soft place in our hearts for chicken wings (notice I did not say Buffalo wings), beef on weck, Ted’s hot dogs  and the Friday Fish Fry , to say nothing about Anderson’s ice cream.

When I go back to Buffalo, I look forward to these delicacies. This last trip was no exception, of course. On my way to the hotel after I arrived in Buffalo, I stopped at Danny’s, a landmark restaurant, and indulged in the “Taste of Buffalo Platter” which included a small beef on weck with horseradish, and four delectable chicken wings. Weck, by the way, is a crusty roll with rye seeds and kosher salt on top.  Delicious!

The next night, I had dinner with some family members—and I ordered a traditional Buffalo fish fry. If you’re from the Midwest or many places in New York State, you know what a fish fry is: a huge piece of fried fish served with macaroni salad (notice it’s not pasta salad—that’s for you fancy types), potato salad and Cole slaw. It’s not Weight Watcher’s food—but it’s yummy.

These local delicacies are not found in chain restaurants or upscale restaurants. This is comfort food and is found in bars, which usually have a back room which serves as a restaurant.

Is there anything better than the taste of home?

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Then Our Eyes Met…

My husband had beautiful green-brown hazel eyes. They were, other than his thick, wavy, auburn tinged brown hair, his best feature.

When he annoyed me (too many times to count), he’d look at me, eyes all innocent.

“Don’t give me those doggie eyes,” I’d say.  Then all the irritation and annoyance would disappear like a puff of smoke. (Of course there were times when his little ploy didn’t work—but that’s a different story.)

When we were first married, we lived with his widowed father whose loneliness was as real as the sky above and the ground below our feet. Living with my father-in-law meant that our lives were intertwined with the whole extended clan who lived all around us. Our first two years of marriage were played out on the family stage.

One night we had a huge argument in our bedroom, the only private place we had. I have no recollection of what the argument was about, but I do remember going to bed angry and resentful.

It was summer and I was on hiatus from my job as a teacher, but Dan had to go to work.

I don’t remember saying goodbye in the morning or if he kissed me before he left.

The day wore on, and with the perspective of time and a little distance, I began to mellow.  I knew that I wanted to make amends, but I wasn’t sure of how.  I could have called him at work (he was the boss, so it wasn’t a problem).  I could meet him at the door when he returned, and we could apologize.

Yes, there were several options all limited by the presence of Dan’s aunt and cousin who had stopped by to say hello to my father –in-law.

I was in the kitchen, getting dinner ready, when Dan unexpectedly appeared.

I looked at him, our eyes met, and suddenly I was engulfed in his teddy bear embrace.

His aunt and cousin both said “A-w-w…” at the same time.

There was no need for words—his eyes said it all.

 

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Are You Suffering from FSS?

Florida snowmanI wasn’t aware of FSS until very recently. But, after reviewing the symptoms, I am sure that I’m a victim of this dreaded condition.

Here are a few of the symptoms of FSS.

 

  •  Opening your front door to what feels like a blast from a furnace.
  • Sweating so much when you walk from your car to an air-conditioned store that you feel the need to shower as soon as you go home.
  •  Racing home with groceries so you can get the perishables in the house before they spoil.
  • Feeling like the air is too thick to breathe—at 7 a.m.
  •  Being grateful that the evening temperatures are only in the mid 70’s.
  •  Buying ice cream at the drive-through window and sitting in your car with the air-conditioning running so it doesn’t melt before you lift it to your mouth.
  •  Refusing to go to the beach (even though it’s one of your favorite places) because it will be too hot and sunny to enjoy it.
  •  Having feverish heat-dreams even though the air conditioning is on.
  • Or having to burrow under blankets in bed because you have to lower the A/C to “frigid” in order to sleep.

If you suffer from any of these symptoms, you probably have FSS—Florida Snowman Syndrome which causes you to melt like a snowman when you attempt to emerge from an air-conditioned space in July, August or September ( one of the worst months) while living in Florida.

There is no known cure except to escape to a cooler northern city during these months.

 

Thanks to Sue Kuchler, a native Floridian, for naming this syndrome.

 

Photo Credit: www.Pinterest.com

 

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Hidden Mickeys

 

 

When you’ve visited Disney World or Disneyland have you ever hunted for “hidden Mickeys?”

For those of you who have not enjoyed either of these vacation destinations, or for the uninitiated Disney fan, let me explain this Disney tradition.

The idea is to find Mickey silhouettes concealed in out of the way or unexpected places.  According to http://www.hiddenmickeys.org/ hidden Mickeys first started out as an inside joke among the company’s Imagineers.  They first came to light in 1989 in an article for the Eyes and Ears newsletter that was distributed to cast members. When the word got out, guest began to search for them in the theme parks, on signs and even in Disney movies.

Hidden Mickeys must look like a silhouette of Mickey’s head and ears –and be proportional.  If you have to squint or tilt your head awkwardly, it probably isn’t a hidden Mickey. Many times, when you spot one, you are surprised—but then you start to wonder how you could have missed it!

You will not find them in tress or in ripples of a stream or a puddle. They are placed deliberately by the designers of the attractions and venues.

The last time I was at a Disney Hotel, I delighted in finding outlines of the iconic Mickey head in carpets, wallpaper and integrated into drapes, bedspreads and other furnishings.

I’ve included a few of those pictures here. As you can easily see, the hidden Mickeys were woven into various carpets. But you will also see them in art and signs all over the resort.

The whimsy of finding these “hidden Mickeys” adds to the overall experience of the magic of a Disney vacation.

 

Picture credits:

Hidden Mickey drain at Disney’s Animal Kingdom http://www.ktmoxie.com

The Hidden Mickey in “Snow White” came from micechat.com

The other pictures were taken by me at The Animal K

Carpet at Animal Kingdom Lodge

Carpet at Animal Kingdom Lodge

ingdom Lodge.

Hidden Mickey in carpet

Hidden Mickey in carpet

Drain cover at Animal Kingdom

Drain cover at Animal Kingdom

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Old Friends

I ran into an old friend the other day. After a quick catch-up session, I realized how wonderful it is to see a friend you haven’t seen in a long time.

Old friends have a special place in our lives–or at least in mine. They share a history that newer friends don’t. They remember you when—for better or for worse.

Since my husband died, I cherish those who have memories of Dan— especially of his humor and gentle personality. Most of these friends remember how delighted he was  with Sparkle, our dog. In a way, they are a link to him now that he’s gone.

One of the best things about old friends is that you can often just pick up where you left off the last time you were together, even if it was months or years.

Sharing a history gives you a common ground to start from. Even if the first few minutes you spend together centers around asking about family and mutual friends, the familiarity is comforting.

And sometimes that’s all you can talk about. But that’s still okay. Because seeing that person is a reminder of the continuity of life and the connections we share.

When I was a teacher, there was a song I taught my Kindergarten students. It was actually a song I learned in Kindergarten.

“Make new friends, but keep the old/ One is silver and the other gold.”

Words to live by.

 

 

 

 

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