Adventures at Home and Abroad

Happier memories What is it about NEEDING a great haircut before a long trip that dooms one to a bad one? Is it always Murphy’s Law that you’ll get a terrible one that makes you whine endlessly before departure? I’d been planning to move on from Bobby—he who won’t shut up—but my decision was sealed. I didn’t ask for much when I saw him but he delivered even less. 

I’ve got a long way to go, but I think I captured Peanut’s personality here.  

 

We thought we were going to have to say goodbye to our girl this week. She had a few terrible days and our hearts almost broke. A visit to the Vet turned her around. More pain meds, more often, to soften the pain and help with her arthritis. She's not a new dog, but she's clearly more comfortable. I'll take it, for now.

Cookies!

Making Christmas ornaments seemed like a great idea at the time. Easy small gifts, not too time-consuming, colorful. And, if recipients hated them, they could re-gift or conveniently lose them. What I learned: making small things drives me crazy. These little things are FUSSY to make, and they take much longer than one would presume. I like how most of them turned out, however...ornaments are no longer on my list of things to do!

Dad came for his annual visit last week (he left today). The man is 83 years old and he's a golf-a-holic. Which means that John and I get to follow him around our course, spritely at the beginning and dragging by the last round. This year was no different, despite his health issues. We played one 9 hole round and three 18 hole rounds in five days. That's a lot of golf...I feel like I'm overdoing it if I play 2-3 times a week. He's a perfect example of someone with a passion and a goal. Each morning, he set goals for his overall score, the holes he'd improve upon, mistakes he'd avoid.  It was admirable, since my goals usually involve survival, or not dropping out after nine holes. I played fairly well, better than last year, so I was happy. I know it makes him happy to see me playing well. John played even better, which, after twenty years of being tortured on the course by my father and brother, was the most satisfying of all.

It's an interesting emotion, fear. The heart races, breathing quickens, your mind fuzzes. Even for the most ridiculous things. The possibility of startling a rattlesnake in the brush (this week's adventures in golf), the threat of being trapped in a hailstorm (I mean, who wouldn't want ping-pong ball size orbs of ice raining down on them?), or the anticipation of an upcoming event that pulls you outside your personal fortress. As I get older, I seem to experience more fear and it ticks me off. I long for the days...decades ago...when I didn't worry so much. Truth be told, I didn't know enough to worry then. I didn't know as much about health scares, or the claustrophobia of a raging thunderstorm. And worrying about trying something new caused some anxiety, but I didn't seem to obsess about the details like I do now. I'm trying to work on it, though. Play golf with people I don't know, even though I utterly dread it. Try new things that push the

I know going to Body Lift class is good for me. I'm getting stronger, I can tell. When I started in January, I could only use 3 and 5 pound weights. Now, I've graduated to 5 and 8 pounds, as well as learned to do sumo lifts with the bar. Who knew? The only issue is the class sucks the life out of me for the rest of the day. Where's the great rush of energy I'm supposed to feel?

I am not a terribly vain person. I hate spending time in front of the mirror, staring at myself. I don't do selfies. The major thing I dislike about aging is the wrinkles around my lips. It's irritating, because I never smoked and didn't use drinking straws, but got them anyway. But, in the past few years, I've noticed that the "old lady age spots" that I have on my back keep growing and multiplying. To be honest, I don't see them (duh), so they've been out of sight out of mind. Until last year, when I put my bathing suit on. How many ways can you say gross? Then, as I started to work out more, the ones along my bra line started to itch and bleed. With our trip to Kauai on the horizon, I decided I should have them removed. I know they might come back, they're hereditary (thanks Mom!). But at least I could get rid of the ones I have now, and my back won't scare small children. I made an appointment at the cosmetic dermatologist and went in y

The new one came, and it was clear they'd had the base rebuilt. Thank goodness, because passive-aggressive me didn't want to have to reject it a second time.

Sometimes, it really is all about home decorating. I haven't had a china cabinet, or any sort of kitchen/dining display piece, since I sold my old one in Madison, to make room for THAT kitchen remodel. Of course, we moved to Colorado and I realized the piece I sold would have been perfect here. Sigh. Anywhoo, I've been shopping for the last year for something that would work in our space. Compact, nice looking, and functional. Finally, we found what we wanted after a trip to Ethan Allen (after visiting at least ten other stores). I can now display some of the pieces I've bought as well as some of mom's china. The delivery was scheduled for yesterday, earlier than promised, and I was excited. Until the guys wouldn't even come to the front door. I guessed something was wrong after a bit and my guess was, unfortunately, correct. Apparently it had been poorly packed, and the base had a huge scratch in it, one that didn't look repairable to me. So I got to reject