At Six in the Morn

I decluttered the kitchen table

Then I washed the floor.

If it wasn’t a workday

I’d have done more.

I’m really quite spirited

At six in the morn,

But at six in the evening,

You will find me forlorn.

    That would be me, tonight. You know how lots of  people suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder)?  In the winter?  Well, I suffer from it too, except in the summer. By this time of year, I have had it with heat and humidity, and I am totally ready for fall.  I long for cool, crisp air, colorful foliage, and the aroma of an apple pie wafting from my oven...

Two Steps Forward...

     I’m sure you all remember that I am somewhat “technologically challenged”.  I’ve certainly kept it no secret. Well, I have been blogging for three months now, and I have been wondering why I have no followers since I know a good number of people read regularly. Then, a friend of mine registered as a follower yesterday, but I could not find her anywhere. Little did I know that I needed to enable the function!    My lunch hour today was dedicated to that challenging endeavor. It took a few tries, but I finally got it. I’m learning.  That was actually my second technological success this week. My 30-something son had recently bought me a new printer/scanner/copier.  This past Sunday I became quite ambitious, and managed to not only hook the unit up, but I've got it functioning. The only problem is that it is stuck on “color picture mode”, and I have yet to figure out how to change it. Does this qualify as “two steps forward, and one step back” , or, in the words of Meat Loaf, "two out of three ain’t bad"?       

     Here’s some exciting news!  Ms.50-something has a 3.83 GPA! I am quite pleased with that achievement, but I still want to do better. A GPA of 4.0 would have been my goal, but I had a “B” in one subject awhile back which negates that possibility. But then again, I may be hard pressed to maintain the 3.83 once I begin Biology and Algebra.

    Guess what?  There are two 50-somethings in my midst this semester, and both are… male!  Okay, one is my professor, but the other one is a student!  He is the first older male student that I’ve encountered.  (Keep in mind that they are both still younger than me.)  I could sense the student’s discomfort, as he made mention of the fact that he started college late. In this instance, I didn’t call attention to the fact that I am older and started even later.  If the men didn’t notice, I’m sure not going to tell them.  When there are men of “a certain age” around, I deem it more prudent not to accentuate the negative. 

Let's Make a Deal!

     I went on a mini shopping spree yesterday, and again today. I treated myself to four new notebooks, a new address book, yet another journal, and, the biggie: a new magnifying glass!  How pathetic is that?  Oh, but it’s going to get worse, still.  I have a real dilemma besides my diminishing eyesight.  Some of my classes are three hours long.  The problem is this: my bony, half century old derriere causes me great pain when I sit in those wooden chairs for any length of time.  Last Thursday, I spent about half the class squirming in my chair like a small child who’s about to wet his pants. On a positive note, the classroom was dark because we were watching a movie. So, I wasn’t embarrassed, just suffering and unable to concentrate properly. I feel I should invest in one of those chair pads that I could bring along to class. However, it’s bad enough that:     1.) I’m old enough to be the mother of 96% of the students;  2.) I’m old enough to be the grandmother of probably 3% of the students; 3.) I bring my sweater to class when it’s 95 degrees out.  Now I am supposed to compound that embarrassment by bringing a chair pad to sit on!  And I thought a new magnifying glass was pathetic!  I can at least hide it in my purse.  However... ponder this. Oftentimes, I am walking the halls and I have the privilege of seeing nearly translucent, paper thin boxer shorts barely covering the derrieres of some of the students because of the ridiculous style of having the waist of their pants at mid-thigh level.  I’ll make a deal with them: I won’t laugh at them if they don’t laugh at me!

A Stupid Question

     Don’t let anyone ever tell you that there is no such thing as a stupid question. There is. I asked it. My son will attest to it. I spent the afternoon with my sons celebrating 20-something #1’s birthday. To make a long story short, during the drive home, I asked 20-something #2 if he knows how to balance a checkbook.. Mom, he quickly replied, with just a touch of sarcasm, I have my Bachelors Degree in Accounting. I know how to balance a checkbook!  Told you it was a stupid question!  Why did I ask him this ridiculous question?  Because I never learned how to balance my checkbook!  (I’m a writer-not an accountant).   Do I want to learn how at this stage? Not particularly, but it is a skill that may come in handy some day.  By the way, to make myself feel better, I asked him if he can write poetry…    

     Here’s a quick update on school. I am coming up on my third week of Creative Writing.  This class is great too! We write, read our work, and then work shop. On a personal note, I read two of my more profound poems in class. Professor indicated that he felt the one was publishable…He was also highly complimentary of the second poem. I am not going to elaborate more because I am not really comfortable “blowing my own horn”.  (Did I just date myself, or what?)   Suffice to say that I am loving this experience.

                                                                                                                    

Aurora's Mantra

“Bite me once, shame on you.

Bite me twice, shame on me”

     My Husky, Aurora, lived by these words. In 1999, we did not need, and could ill afford, a third dog.  However, after falling in love with a neighbor’s Alaskan Malamute, I was relentless in my pursuit of a “sled dog” of my own. Aurora was actually a mix of German Shepherd and Siberian Husky, although the Husky gene was dominant, as she had the appearance and temperament of a Husky, with a lush tan and white coat, and beautiful blue eyes.

     We already had two 100 pound labs , Brandy, who was black, and Holly, a yellow. Of those two, Holly was definitely the Alpha. When we brought Aurora home, she was all of ten pounds, with wobbly legs that were too long for her body. Holly promptly let Aurora know who was in charge with a swift chomp to the head, resulting in two black eyes. My little Aurora was small, but mighty. That incident was the first and last time that Holly took a bite out of her as Aurora subsequently staged a coup.  I cannot elaborate, because it was not done in my presence, but Aurora was thereafter, the Alpha.  At a mere 57 pounds, her peak weight when she was fully grown, she kept the other two in line.  Whenever I brought toys or bones home for them, I would buy three that were identical, so the kiddies wouldn’t fight. Without fail, Aurora would quickly attain possession of all three, while Holly and Brandy dejectedly waited for her to tire of her game of torment.  My chocolate lab, Buddy, who came later, couldn’t even get a drink of water without first paying her homage. I’m serious. Aurora would block the water dish, and she didn’t move until he barked his reverence.  She also took control of both food dishes. I was compelled to relocate Buddy’s dish to another room so he wouldn’t starve to death.

     We bought Aurora for a bargain price of $100.00, since she wasn’t a purebred. We could have purchased a number of purebreds with the money we spent on meds. When Aurora turned two, she started having seizures. She spent the next ten years on a number of medications, which accumulated to a small fortune invested. I’m not complaining, mind you. I loved Aurora, and she gave me great joy over the twelve years that I was fortunate enough to have her in my life.

     My lab, Buddy, is neurotic, and somewhat dumb. Okay, he’s really dumb.  However, he was aware when Aurora was having a seizure, and would summon one of us to attend to her. I must say, he was tenacious. There was no ignoring him if Aurora was in distress.

     When Aurora became ill this past December, and I realized she was too ill to recover, I brought her to the Vet to be put to sleep. I held my beautiful little dog in my arms, my tear streaked face buried in her fur, professing my love for her, as she drifted peacefully away from me… Buddy and I are still mourning her loss. 

     Rest in peace my sweet girl…

You Remember How I Feel About Spiders...

 

   They say that everything comes in three’s. Today I encountered three spiders in the first fifteen minutes of my waking day.  I opened my apartment door, only to see a brown one staring me in the face, while simultaneously poised to jump onto Buddy. I squashed him faster than a New York City minute. The second one jumped out at me as I opened my living room window to insert the fan. He was luckier than the first spider. I huffed and puffed like the big bad wolf until he landed outside, not an easy task at my age. If I had just walked up a flight of stairs, the spider would have gotten me for sure. The third spider was waiting for me in the shower. I quickly washed him down the drain for fear that he would have crawled onto my toes, or worse...

     I hate, and fear, spiders. A number of my neighbors and coworkers (and even my readers) can attest to this. Once I refused to go into my apartment because a spider was lazily reclining on my doorbell. Fortunately, one of my neighbors was just getting home from work, and quickly came to my rescue. I must confess, this wasn’t one of the guys. It was one of the women. I can only imagine what she was thinking…

     Another time, one of those recluse spiders was under the mat by the front door. Again, I declined to make entry, as this time I had one of my dogs with me, and I do not want spiders on my dogs any more than I want them on me.  This time I was decidedly more fortuitous, as one of my younger, more handsome neighbors was outside.  He quickly came to my rescue as well, disposing of the unwelcome predator.  My hero!  If I was twenty years younger, I would have thanked him properly…Ah, such is life…

The Site I Love to Hate

     “Many of peoples’ comments, I don’t want to see.

     Rarely do I see the posts that are meant for me.”

           Perhaps it’s because I am getting older, but as time goes on, I am becoming increasingly disenchanted with using FB.  It is becoming too high tech for my simple, semi-senior mind. I have no interest in Timeline. I much preferred when FB was simpler, and I mainly saw posts from close friends and family.

     “Too bad FB doesn’t have spell check”.

      Do you know that in the movie “Goodfellas”, the “F” word was used over 400 times, over 200 by Joe Pesci’s character alone? I have seen that word used on FB so many times, it makes Goodfellas seem like Sunday School.  Now, I’m not necessarily a prude when it comes to profanity, and I have been known to utter an expletive or two occasionally (ha ha). However, I don’t condone putting it in writing on a public site. In addition, I will readily admit that I am offended by off color, and especially by demeaning, comics and comments.  Posting on FB, or even blogging for that matter, do not afford a person free license to berate, condemn, poke fun at, put down, etc., other people.

     One thing I’ve noticed is that a person’s character can become all too apparent when writing comments that seem, on the surface at least, to be nonchalant. Unattractive attributes such as vanity, condescension, derision, shallowness, insensitivity, ignorance, and additionally (my personal pet peeve) an inability to spell correctly, have become all too obvious, and far too common. At times, I have seen young people post insensitive comments, and then other people “liking” them, I mean people of a certain age, who ought to know better. Hello!!!  I would have hoped that by age 50-something, a person would have learned compassion and empathy. 

      “Why does FB have a “find friends” app? If they are your friends, wouldn’t you  know where they are?”

     I know where mine are. I also know who they are. Two dear friends, both far more technologically capable than I, have come to my rescue. They showed me how to “unsubscribe”. This way, I remain friends with everyone, but I am not compelled to see the dreaded spewing of offensive comments, etc. Does all of this mean that I am ready to close my account? Absolutely not!  FB is the site I love to hate. No matter how annoyed I become, I still continue to sign in three times a day…

A Somber Post

     Usually my posts are positive, upbeat, and hopefully, amusing. Not so today. I am deeply troubled by the senseless murder of Danielle Thomas, in Queens, NY.  This is the most abhorrent of crimes. She was sleeping when he got home....that really got to me...

     I wrote a poem for Danielle today. Although I didn't know her, I feel tremendous pain and anger over her murder. I have a real problem with domestic violence, and the perpetrators...This is a senseless, and far too common crime. R.I.P. Danielle, and many others like her.  May their deaths not be in vain.

I Wish

I wish I could have saved you.

Your life ended far too soon.

I wish I could have protected you

As you lay sleeping in your room.

I wish I could have heard your pleas

As you cried out for help.

I wish I could have provided 

A safe haven where you could dwell.

I wish there could have been some way

That you would have survived.

I wish you were still here on earth,

I'm so sad you had to die.

An Odd Fetish

    

     Last night was a sleepless night for me. I always get keyed up when I attend school, especially the first night. I couldn’t stop my racing thoughts. Ideas were flying about in my psyche much like tourist helicopters fly over the East River. Class went well, although I usually tend to be somewhat intimidated in the beginning. Since this is a writing course, I believe I will feel at ease quickly. I am as comfortable writing as a politician is making empty promises… Ooh-I know-dripping with sarcasm. I couldn’t help myself.

     I have always had somewhat of a pen and pad fetish. (Odd, don't you think? Knowing me, are you surprised, really?)  Being back in school allows me to justifiably indulge my urges.  I had already purchased a new five subject notebook and pens for fall, as well as an unnecessary new journal, simply because it’s so pretty. Last night, however, Professor instructed us to purchase a small notebook for a Journaling assignment. No problem! I couldn’t wait to get to Target after class to peruse my options. I ultimately came home with two brightly patterned pads (remember-I only needed one), which will complement my ever increasing number of journals and notebooks of varied shapes and sizes, which are scattered haphazardly throughout my apartment.  As you know, organization is definitely not my strong suit when it comes to my writings.  I don’t know how I will ever achieve the extremely daunting task of organization. Maybe I will start by organizing my notebooks…that’s daunting enough!

Driving Alone 2 - Lost in Cranford

     I am back in school for Summer II, Creative Writing. First let me say that on Thursday I will be bringing my GPS along, because tonight…. I got lost driving home from school!  No-it’s not what you’re thinking-it wasn’t a “semi-senior” moment.  I have a valid reason for this total lack of navigational ability.  The college is paving one of the parking lots, so I had to exit from the back of the campus, which is actually quite large, much to my chagrin.  I wound up deep in the center of town, and had not a clue as to where I was. Luckily I crossed paths with a jogger, who enlightened me as to my location and proposed escape route...Between you and I, this was not the first time that I’ve gotten lost while being a mere 3 miles from home, which is probably why 30-something son bought me the GPS to begin with...

Ancestry, Interrupted

     This morning I was looking at my stats, which provide a non specific breakdown of who is viewing my blog. The first (and only) foreign country on there is Russia. I find this to be coincidental, since I am of Russian descent.

     For most of my life I believed I was half Polish and half Irish. I understood (from my Mom) that my Polish grandparents met as emigrants en route to America, and married here. I wonder who dreamed up that fairy tale?  The reality is that my grandfather was born in Petrograd, Russia, and my grandmother was born in… Jersey City. The only non fallacy is that they were married in this country.

     On to the Irish side. My mom had indicated to me that no one knew when her ancestors originally immigrated here from Ireland, as it occurred many generations back. Out of curiosity, I looked it up. It was actually her… grandfather.  Someone certainly got their facts mixed up, regarding both sides of the family.  If I want to find out anything about my roots, in most instances, Ancestry.com is the more reliable source.  For example, another misbelief is about my maiden name. Rumor has it that the name originally ended in “ski”, and that it was shortened upon my Grandfather’s arrival in America. A cousin of mine indicated to me that this was merely a joke that her father made up.  I managed to get my hands on the passenger manifest of the ship that my grandfather arrived on, and, you guessed it, his surname originally ended in “ski”. Did you ever hear of so many misconceptions in one family? It makes me wonder if anything I’ve learned about my ancestors has been accurate…It certainly doesn’t appear that way.

     So, upon learning that I am Russian, rather than Polish, I abandoned my imaginary Polish ancestry , as well as  years of traditionally serving Polish food on Easter, and I discarded my Polish cook book, subsequently replacing it with a Russian cook book. However, when I discovered that the main staples in their recipes are cucumbers, beets, and herring, and pickled at that, I retrieved my Polish cook book post-haste. Thankfully, one doesn’t have to be Polish to love kielbasa and pierogis.

Good News

     Well, I have good news and I have more good news. The 1^st tidbit of good news is that I earned an “A” in my “Introduction to Film” class. If I’d earned this many “A’s” in High School, I would have been in the Honor Society. Of course, I haven’t taken Algebra or Chemistry in college as yet. Those courses would certainly have an impact on my GPA, and not in a good way.

     The 2^nd tidbit of good news is that the tortoise just got a second lease on life. It had looked as if the tortoise was on her way out. I have noticed for a couple of weeks that the car just didn’t sound right. So, while I was out and about the other day, I stopped to see my mechanic so he could have a listen. Turns out the valves in the engine were responsible for making the racket, and this could have proved the car’s demise. That certainly stirred up a bit of panic. Luckily for me, my mechanic, who I have been utilizing for nearly thirty years, was able to put a band aid on the car’s engine which will carry me through awhile longer. (He is the true “miracle worker” in my estimation). So, while my car was in the shop, I drove one of the son’s cars…Did I mention that it is a car without air conditioning? And that we are still in the midst of that heat wave?  Not to worry, I had lots of practice last weekend, when I was driving the tortoise with the heater running… Have you detected a pattern here? We all drive these amazing cars! It’s amazing that they are still running at all!

An Amusing Look at Some Tell Tale Signs of Aging

 

Here are some tell tale signs that I have noticed about aging. They threaten even my determined state of denial:

What used to be fine lines are now crevices rivaling the San Andreas Fault.

Only very infrequently does anyone call me miss. On the rare occasion when someone does, I am tempted to bend down and kiss his feet. The problem with that is, I wouldn’t be able to get back up.

I only have to look at fattening foods, and I gain weight. Hence, I munch on a carrot stick while walking to the gym. I work out twice as hard as the youngsters do, only to lose half as much. How unfair is that? They have more energy than I do.

When I was young, I used Visine to get the red out of my eyes after a night on the town. Now my eyes are red from exhaustion, and Visine no longer works.

My sunglasses have been replaced by transitional bifocals, and my bikini by spandex shorts and a tank top. Sunbathing has been replaced by sitting under a beach umbrella, huddled in a towel because I’m cold.

The items in my medicine cabinet are also vastly different. I have Doan’s Pills for my aching back, Advil for leg cramps, and evening primrose oil for arthritis. Sun-in has been replaced by Miss Clairol, Clearasil by heavy duty moisturizer. I also have Prozac because I’m depressed. Who wouldn’t be?

A Day at the Beach

     This past Saturday I spent a glorious day at the beach. My beach of choice is Ocean Grove, NJ, or, what I like to refer to as “Victorian Lambertville by the Sea”. Generally, Ocean Grove is one of the quieter, less crowded beaches that I’ve come across. More often than not, there is ample parking at the beach entrance, which is obviously quite convenient. Such was not the case on Saturday, however, as there was an event, and the streets were already quite congested when we arrived. We drove around for about 20 minutes looking for parking, and all the while I was keeping a wary eye on the temperature gauge of my 17 year old tortoise of a car. As the engine temperature crept exceedingly higher, I was compelled to turn on the heater so the engine would not overheat. Did I mention that the outside temperature was 96 degrees Saturday? My friend and I nearly had a heat stroke by the time we parked. Not only that, but then we had to cart our overloaded beach bags, lounge chairs, and a tray of goodies from Dunkin Donuts, countless blocks up to the beach. In retrospect, I should have deposited my friend, armed with our week’s worth of essentials, by the beach, while I parked the car. How much easier would that have been? Hindsight really is 20/20. Speaking of hindsight, my friend indicated that she has a small dolly at home that would have been ideal for carting our stuff…. Great minds think alike!