Look around the Kitchen

I have been reading a book at night for the last month or so, called "The Big House" by George Howe Colt. About the summer house that had been in his family for generations and the last time back before they sell the house.

Well, ironically this summer I saw it on a table at Barnes & Noble and the picture on the cover made me cry. Not that it looked anything like the house I grew up in, but what memories that 100 year old house must hold. Tonight I read from a page saying how there are things setting places that basically because they were not moved they were left and became part of the house. A simple shell sat on the mantle was an example or even a book used in place of a caster missing from a piece of furniture. Once they are there they become familiar and they stay. Just that sort of thing was the old dining room table that we used as kids until the family out grew it and mom bought a new one on clearance at JCPenney. The old table didn't get sold or thrown out. It was moved to a place where it could be used when we had extra people over or a breakfast table on the enclosed back porch. But over the years mom would bring home little animal statues and and baskets and rocks got carried in or shells and they ended up on the table. It has been years since the table served food. The table has a whole new purpose. It was the place to drop your stuff when you came in the back door or the place the ash tray sat that mom used outside. The ashtray is an old black plastic ash tray that has a notch broke on it and she had asked me years ago to replace. I bought her two new ash trays. Don't know where they are but I guarantee they have never been used and the broken black ash tray continues to be used daily by my brother. See I understand the kind of nostalgia that causes that sort of thing to happen. Why use the new one the old one is working just fine. Same goes for just about everything I look at in her house.

I have written about sorting through things and laughing at things that we have found. I wish we could have done this while mom was alive. I wish she could have enjoyed the memories. But I know just like with me the memories are hard to part with. I know there are things that are gone that mom wouldn't have gotten rid of just because they had been there so long. And this is where I try to sit those things out and see them when I go in and out and to help me either remember the memory that goes with that thing or carry out the door and use it in my own house. Like I have said before I brought home a couple measuring cups. I got rid of my plastic ones and now I have to look to find the glass ones but I have used them and will continue to use them. I am going to do the same with some of the serving spoons mom had or a spatula. I know we have spoke of mom's love for measuring cups but I am pretty sure I never mentioned her love for early 20th century kitchen utensils.

Do you have a butter cutter? I know mom has at least two and one will be coming to my house. Do you have serving spoons with wooden handles or Bakelite handles? I bet I could find at least 3 meat grinders fully intact in the kitchen and at least that many rolling pins if they haven't already found their way to someones house. I could go on and on. Oh I know we just found them, nut crackers and picks. Mom had enough that everyone could have their own for when we had crab for dinner.
The drawer next to the stove is double the size of a normal kitchen drawer and it is so heavy you have to put your hip into it to get it to close and you have to shuffle things around to get them to settle back into place. Once the drawers were all full she took to buying plastic storage drawers which she had at least four on the counter holding the utensils that wouldn't fit in the drawer by the stove.

I would like to say those were the only unusual things in the kitchen but I did not mention the flowered wall paper on the ceiling that was there when we bought the house, Never came down because well it was there and we are all used to it after 40 years.

Will the next person say, "oh my god?"
Yes, and they can take the time to remove it. While they are in the kitchen they will probably want to remove the blue paint that is on the wall behind the refrigerator. When I was about 25 mom went away for Thanksgiving weekend and and the 5 of us decided we would surprise her remove the blue paint from the knotty pine cabinets and walls. Well this was more than a long weekend project but we did remove 80 percent of the blue paint but the remnants of that weekend are still on the wall. Mom was mad that we started, mad that it didn't get finished. Just plain mad. But it was one of those things she had talked about doing since we were kids.

Okay one last thing in the kitchen. The pictures on the refrigerator. I guess it kinda started with the grand kids, A picture of Timmy here a picture of Alex there. Oh every one's favorite Alex picture going down a slide at McKay Park on Mandalay, Smile as wide as the slide. Yellow side, blue shorts and shirt. See it is all here. Not the picture but the memory of it on the fridge. The funny thing is Alex always know as the Angel. Always reminded to keep her halo on straight. Mom would tell her things like that is okay to do with grandma but you really shouldn't talk like that to other people. Mom would spoil all of them bad but Alex she got a lot of mom's attention. So Alex would count how many pictures on the fridge were her versus her brother and when Emily, Ashley and Paul came along well it was an all out war. The kids would see whose picture got a prominent location on a refrigerator that was covered in photos. They would count how many on the front and how many on the side. I would be lucky to be in one family picture and one picture with me and Brian from New York.

Well, I am glad I could show you around the kitchen. And have preserved the memories for those that will come after me.

Pushing On

There is an old saying: somethings never change. But I have recently found the things you think will never change will. So it seems the sadness ebbs and flows and that doesn't end either, but I am learning to live with it. Today I took another step, I talked to someone about my mother's books. I have thus far not been willing to let others in to buy anything direct from my mother's house. My sisters have told me multiple times it would be easier but I feel as though it would not be easy for me. My sisters and brother have nudged me along to make progress and sometimes I have to step back and re-group because they are pushing on. I too will push on.

So if you have never been in my mother's house the bedroom my brother used as a kid became her tv room and library. One wall is floor to ceiling cook books and two other walls have book shelves that run the length of the walls about 3 feet high with books and in a couple places those book shelves are 2 deep not books but complete book shelves. Then there is her bedroom which has I think 6 book shelves that are 6 ft tall each again all books. And just for good measure she has one more shelf in the front hallway next to the front door full of children's books. So to say the least mom liked to read. We have already gotten rid of quite a few boxes of romance novels my grandma's favorite that mother would also read but her favorite was the westerns. Her Louis L'Amour books. At the end she gave away some of the Louis L'Amour books she wanted others to see the scenery she had scene through his words. Even I have one laying next to my bed and one of the girls that helped take care of mom carries one with her all the time. I hope mom has gotten to meet Louis L'Amour in heaven and she can hear the stories first hand now.

Back to the books. So I found a bookstore that when I walked through the front door of this old house I said to the man behind the desk. I think you are going to be able to help. He said, "with what?" I explained the situation and that his store looked like my mother's room that she spent most of her time. He was so kind and I finally said yes. That he could come and look at the books. He said he will bring everything he needs and for me to call next week so we can make arrangements for him to come over. I of course looked around and we spoke of books and he said my mother had been a good influence on me and my interest in history and books. And yes. I walked out with a book. A Marjorie Rawlings book South Moon Under.

Since I was already down in St. Pete I thought I might as well eat lunch at mom's favorite place down there. Fourth Street Shrimp Store another old Florida place. I had fried shrimp and fried clams. It was so good I brought another home for my brother, Al.

On the way back to her house I thought of what I need to do before someone can go through the books. I need to pick out a few that I want and then that moment of being overwhelmed by the sheer number of books. I know at one point she had counted and she had like 800 cookbooks. When I got to the house I stood and looked at the room and just couldn't even move. The first book I see and everyone else is one that the cover faces out, A Flower Grows in Ireland by Ron Wilson. I never knew why but it was the last book her sister Jan read before she died. She got it on her last trip to Ireland. I don't know if mom ever read the book but I know it is not being sold. It will find a place in my house. I only know this piece of information because about a year ago in preparation for mom going home from rehab my sister Beth helped me clean that room and when we straightened up the books that book was moved and mom had a fit as only she could have and the book was put back where it had been for well  more than 20 years and where it sits now because even knowing that I am going to take that book home I couldn't bring myself to remove it from the shelf.

So again, I went back to her bedroom to make sure the shelves back there were accessible and tried to figure out how to get more light back there so that the man from the bookstore can see what he he is looking at. But within the next few weeks the room that has been pretty much untouched will to be disassembled in the name of progress. It is the same feeling I felt when my sisters packed up some of the things from the living room for that my brother wants to keep. In my head it makes no sense not to touch the things that must be touched. I know I would rather do it myself than have someone else do it for me. As it was in the beginning I must make way for change and push on.

Sharing something personal

I am not sure how to start. Sometimes I realize things I deal with in my head I don't always deal with out with the rest of the world. Today one of those items came up.  As a 20 something I had yet to find the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with and when I married at 31 I thought now is the time. Brian and I had been together for 5 years at that point and it was time we have a family of our own. Well surprise, surprise, surprise. It doesn't actually work that way. Of course not. Now I know some people put the kid before the marriage, or maybe the kid didn't come from the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with, or you came along after the kid and you welcome that child as though they were your own. I know people that fall into all of these situations. They all ended up with something I did not. A family of my own.

Yes, I know Brian has always been mine to raise. And yes, I have always had plenty of other people relying on me to take care of them. But you know whenever I hear the good news that someone is going to have a baby it has almost always been a bitter sweet moment for me. I really am happy for you and your new bundle of joy. But there is a part of me that is so sad that it is hard for me to put into words. I have a tendency to say something that is taken wrong and well then no one is happy with me. 

When my oldest niece was born I learned to crochet so that I could make a baby afghan for her. She was born just a few years after my Grandma Helen had passed away and grandma had always crocheted. She was literally crocheting when she passed away. My youngest sister has the afghan she was working on and until riddled with termites I had the chair that she crocheted in. Grandma after making afghans for her sixteen grandchildren then her children she made them for preemie babies at the hospital along with booties and hats. A friend of mine taught me to crochet a trick in itself, because I am left-handed and for a rightie to teach me I had to learn by facing her so it was like learning through a mirror. That started a life long tradition of me making afghans for everyone I know that has a baby or a grand baby. 

I have had a few opportunities to be included more than your average in the process for some friends. I had a friend that had two kids before getting remarried about the same time Brian and I got married. She got pregnant and she had some unusual complications along the way but she and I talked on the phone while she was having contractions early and bored in the hospital. Her daughter is going to graduate from high school this year. What a beauty. I did not see that little girl often but I was always the one who would play Barbie with her or whatever else she wanted to do. Soccer games and all.  As she got older she was less excited to see me show up but to this day I want to spend time with her when I am at their house. 

When two of my sisters were pregnant we spent time together preparing the babies room. We shopped for materials and cut and sewed curtains and bed bumpers and sheets and blankets in whatever color they desired. Those were some really fun memories. Winnie the Pooh and Flower power and even sports for my nephew. 

But each time someone would tell me they were with child again I step back and reflect on all the experiences I never had. I know there are plenty of parents that would love the freedom I have and to them their hum drum daily grind are the magic I regret not having. 

I have come across a few women that for one reason or another like I never had children of their own. Both of these women I would say are two of the most successful women that I know. I know I have gone to both of them in tears and they have shared similar feelings. And I am sure that my melancholy personality doesn't help with the sadness. Both these women I respect so much. One I can tell you has always treated her nieces as though they were as good as her own. And I have always tried to do the same with my nieces and nephews. I would want them to know they could always come to me. 

I love being their aunt. It is definitely a job I was cut out for. The last couple years I have taken the younger ones on short little trips trying to expose them to things they may not have had a chance to do with their parents. A little nature, a little history and definitely a little fun. But as the kids get older they to will slip away. My oldest nephew will be 30 this year. How can that be? But he has grown into a great adult just like his sister. Everyone finds their own way in life and these kids are now adults and finding their own. But as they slip away into their own lives I am reminded again that my life didn't work out the way I expected. I always counted on having kids that was going to be the thing that was going to get me to lose weight chasing around kids. Well now I just get tired trying to keep up with my nieces and nephew.  I have nieces and a nephew on Brian's side of the family as well and they are now all adults and don't get to see them often but they are also finding their own way for their own lives. 

As I get older so do my friends. Now my friend's kids are getting married or starting families of their own. And now my friends are becoming grandmothers and  again I am reminded of my down falls. I still make afghan blankets for these peoples children and yet when I go to the baby shower. It is hard for me. When the baby comes I am happy for you and proud of you as you find your way to raise your own child but know that my tears are not disappointment but pure sadness for myself. 

I am looking forward to being the best aunt ever for the rest of my life and for multiple generations.

So if you are fortunate enough to be my niece or nephew. Whether I see you regularly or not please know that I am always here for you. And would do anything I can to help you. All you have to do is ask. I love each and every one of you if I don't get to see you or talk to you all the time. Know right now I am thinking of you.

Farewell Charles Osgood, Enjoy Retirement.

This morning was the last Sunday Morning that Charles Osgood will be on CBS Sunday Morning.

Charles has been the anchor of the program for the last 22 years. I have enjoyed this show for most of my life. Mom would call and say, "turn on Sunday Morning you have to see the next story." Well in more recent years there were times that I have called her and said to turn on the show. Ironically Brian's parents also enjoy a Sunday Morning with Charles Osgood. Through the years deciding weather to go to church or watch Sunday Morning is a hard choice. But thanks to the dvr and replays later in the day you can now do both.

Still I enjoy it the most to get up and have breakfast with Charles. Prior to Charles Osgood was Charles Kuralt. I loved Charles Kuralt for his "On the Road" segments. He even wrote books about traveling the back roads of the country. I can still hear his voice in my head. Such a resounding voice. I am so jealous of all the places he has been and spending enough time in a place to get to meet a local or two and share their story. Which years later another journalist Steve Hartman, who also does a segment on Sunday Morning called "On the Road". Steve also had a segment  "Everyone has a Story", he decided where he would go by throwing a dart at a map at the end of each weeks segment and that would be the town he would go to the following week. He would then go to a pay phone booth and open the book and randomly select a name. He would interview this random person and tell their story. I thought how inspiring. If you only take the time to sit down and learn about a person you will walk away a better person.

Back to Sunday Morning. News, Weather, Art, Theater. It is like opening up the New York Times Sunday edition and reading the whole thing. When I worked at Eckerd back in the day we sold the Sunday edition and we would get it in two segments and I loved to read through the Art and Entertainment.

So if you watch the show you would know that Charles Osgood was know for his snappy bow tie and clever wit. He always had a song to sing and rhyme for the time. So when I heard he was leaving I thought I would take a stab at his wit and write a poem that would truly fit. I emailed it to CBS and watched his final show but no they didn't use my rhyme so I thought I can share it on my own.

So Hail and Farewell to Charles.

Many Sunday’s we have spent together.

You sharing the news and the weather.

Wearing a bow tie each week.

Me sitting by listening to every word you speak.

Introducing all of the segments.

 Along with their correspondents.

I can hear you say their names aloud.

Hartman, Giles or even Geist.

On the Trail or On the Road.

A pause for a Passage or Remembrance.

Postcards from Oklahoma to China.

Or an update from Our Man in Paris.

Music and Movie reviews from David Edelstein.

Or a Commentary from Ben Stein.

Review the Calendar for the week to come.

Entire issues dedicated to Technology and Money

Or Architecture, Design and Fashion.

What is next on Face the Nation.

Last but not least the Moment of Nature.

Scenic wonder from anywhere at all.

Showing us the beauty of summer, winter or fall.

Thank you Charles for all our Sunday Mornings.

I have always enjoyed the show.

And in closing, I will continue to see you on the Radio.

The last few months

Over the last few months I have stopped and started more posts than I have probably started and stopped in the entire life of me writing this blog. Most of the time when I write it is a one and done. But lately I can't put the thoughts together the way they normally flow so I stop and think I will finish that thought tomorrow but the next time I sit down to write the thoughts don't fit or I can't finish so I start again and again and again. So after talking to a friend today at work I thought maybe I would combine them into one post and share some of what I have been going through. I was telling this friend at work about the other night when I was looking over a dining room table full of measuring cups that my sisters pulled down from the top cabinet and washed and sat out for us to decide which we wanted to keep and which we were going to part with. While this was going on I kept looking at the table overwhelmed with memories. My sister Beth said what is the matter, do you want them boxed up, do want the table cleaned off before we leave. I just kept looking at the sea of measuring cups. I decided to share what I was going through. I picked up a thick glass measuring cup and said, "mom used to use this measuring cup to measure powdered laundry detergent when we were kids." I picked up a pitcher and said, "mom used to make Donald Duck frozen orange juice in the pitcher." My mom would save bacon fat in the refrigerator in a one cup measuring cup. These are not memories I think about everyday. These are memories that came flooding back when I saw the measuring cups. My friend at work thought it was great that I have memories attached to the items but by seeing the items it brought back all these memories. There was a set of holiday glasses from Long John Silver from back in the 1990's. I asked Beth if she knew why mom saved them. She said, "I know it has something to do with me but I don't know." I first said that they were from Long John Silvers and mom knew that when Beth met her husband when he worked there. So my mom thought it would remind them of when they first met. They were washed and Beth took them home.

4/20/16 Four days before mom's birthday.
So this is a quick start after watching the end of the movie Wild and a shower so it is kind of a before the hot water runs out and before I have to go to work. I have been reading Ernest Hemingway's A Moveable Feast, a book about his youthful years in Paris writing and living this poor Parisian life but rich with friends and living. And then over the last few days I have watched the movie Wild. I had to break it in half because I started to late one night to watch the whole thing but I found that the movie was based on a book written by a woman Cheryl Strayed. Over the last few days I have read about her because seeing the movie which is based on a portion of her life after her mother died and she decided to walk the Pacific Crest Trail. Something both her and Hemingway say is that they have to work to write. She thought she had something in her and thought it would write itself and Hemingway speaks of how he has to train to write. Which is what made me decide I had to write even if I only have 20 minutes. I will finish tonight. But just like walking a trail or writing a novel you must walk. Put one foot in front of the other. And even if I only can take 5 steps and have to go to work at least I walked those 5 steps and I will take 5 more tonight and it may take a long time but if I don't start I can never finish.

I also realized this morning after the movie that her loosing her mother and I losing mine is not the same. She was much younger and her mom was my age. Her mom thought she had so much more life and always looked at the positive side of whatever happened. She was happy she came out on the other side.

4/22/16 Two days before mom's birthday.
Today I did some things that I have been promising myself that I would do and now they are done. I don't feel relieved or that a burden has been lifted. I still feel the same. I have more tasks just like this that I am going to have to do and I don't think they are going to make me feel better either. I don't really know what will. But on the way down to the beach today I was listening to the radio and heard the song "Landslide" by Stevie Nicks. It was an acoustic version but the words made me cry. People see me in the car and think there is that lady crying again in her car.

But at the beginning Stevie Nicks says something like this is for you Dad. Which made me think what I was about to do. This is for you mom. Hope I am doing the right thing. So the song talks about a child handling the changes in their life, Life is always changing. I feel like once I get through a change the next one is lining up to wack me in the back of the head. I question my ability to handle all of the changes in my life. I see people with bigger problems and wonder why can't I handle my issues as well as they do their's? Why is everything such a big deal to me? Why can't I shake some of these things off and move on?

And then the next line of the song says it all, " I've built my life around you." I see everything I have ever done for my mom, all the doctor appointments, all the trips to the bank to the grocery store. All the times she asked me to be the grown up when I wasn't and all the times as an adult that I have just wanted to crawl into a cave or walk away from whatever trouble that I didn't want to deal with or felt I can't handle. Maybe part of it was facing that one day I would be facing just this. Her death and whatever comes next. Do I want to be like her after her mother died? Do I want to sit in the house and smoke cigarettes and drink coke and fade away? Deny that there is anything wrong and hope it will get better by seeing a doctor but changing nothing. In someways that is exactly what I do. I want to lose weight but I make minimal changes and then cry that they don't make a major difference. Is that my landslide? I see the scene of I "climb the mountain and turn around". Do you see my reflection in the snow covered hill, well the landslide brought me down. When I heard that part I see her walking away and turning back for one last look but I can't bring her back down. Not even a Landslide can bring her back down. And which her do I get the sick bedridden mom or the one that still has a chance to make a change. Maybe that is what I cry for I need to make the change. I need to do it and no one else can. Maybe I only cry because mom is gone but I cry for myself because if I don't change will the landslide bring me down.

4/30/16 A little break from all the sadness.
Today Brian and I attended the second game in round two of the Lightning playoffs against the New York Islanders. For future readers the Lightning won, 4-1. We sat in the 5th row on the goal end that the Lightning defend twice, thanks to Brian's friend Arnold who had to work. The excitement of a live hockey game is amazing and I think even if you don't know much about hockey you could enjoy a live game.

Maybe a week or so ago I was on my way to work and heard a Lightning commercial on the radio and thought, they have the best advertising gimmick ever. The Lightning ask the listener to "Be the Thunder". You can't have Lightning without Thunder and no Thunder without the Lightning. Great game and a great afternoon.

5/27/16 Take a break.
A little rest for the weary is always good so one week of vacation down. Visited the In-laws and enjoyed some nice cool weather. Road a train and took a bus tour. Listened to some folk music and some poetry. Even read out loud a few things I have written. Enjoyed all of it.

Really enjoyed the folk music by a guy named David Wiseman. He is very clever. Or maybe I just think so because I get his sense of humor. He said during his performance the three cords and the truth will get you a good folk song. Well from what I could tell he has a good thing going. He sang words that made you listen because he was telling you a tale. It may not have been his story but it was a good story none the less.

So then that same evening I went along with Brian and his parents to hear a open mic poetry reading. I told the lady that owned the tea shop that I liked to write and she encouraged me to come back and bring something to share. Well I took two things. The poem I wrote For the Love of Lilly and A Day at the Beach with Mom something I wrote while sitting with mom. Very nervously I signed up and one by one I heard people read and recite poetry that they had written. I am not sure why the world enjoys watching CNN because listening to these people brought tears to my eyes it was so beautiful. I can't understand why people don't look for that beauty. It is out there.

7/5/16 One step forward a few years back. 
A busy day off today. I took a step. A big step for myself. I took some of the items from my mother's house to an auction house. The people were very nice and explained how it works and it wasn't horrible which I thanked them for it not being awful. That seems strange but even small steps are hard and I feel like I can do this again. Bring them more things and let them go. I am not letting go of everything but it is a start.
Later this evening I read at an event in St. Pete at a small art gallery. Again the people there made it better. I read the Day at the Beach with Mom and had some trouble making it through with out pausing to compose myself. But the round of applause when I was finished I am not sure if it was for what I had written or for the bravery to stand up there in front of maybe 30 or 40 people and cry. The reassurance I received afterwards was reward enough for my bravery. A woman spoke of her mother's death years ago and that she wished that she would have written about her when it was still fresh in her mind. And another person took the time to tell me that mom would have been proud of me. I hope so.
Some big steps for me when lately I have not been feeling my strongest. I am putting plans in place and am ready to keep moving forward.
When I am going through things at the house I just keep thinking in my head. Do I love this?  Billie and I were going through more clothes yesterday and it is funny we had 3 piles sentimental, garbage and retro. Mom always saved her clothes from the 60's and there were some from the 80's that were clearly our clothes as kids but she held on to them. The sentimental pile was not as big as some would think 3 or 4 things. I don't think I will keep them but still not sure. And that takes me back to the do I love this. Not did mom. Not does someone else but me. This is making it a little easier on some items.
While going through things we found 2 t-shirts that we painted Happy Anniversary on for our parents 11th wedding anniversary which I would have been 10. It is funny, I think my sister Beth had to have made the one because listed under all of our names was Pooh Bear. It was in the sentimental pile. The retro pile I will wash and see if I can find a retro store that might be interested. The idea of selling it to someone that specializes in the stuff makes me feel like mom saved the stuff like a bank acct and because it held some value to her. She just never got around to letting someone else enjoy it after her.
So the roller coaster ups and downs well maybe not roller coaster maybe sometimes it feels like the tea cups. But I keep pressing on trying to make progress I can see what I have gotten rid of and there are plenty of things to spill out of closets and take the space of the the things I have removed.

8/1/16 A break with the kids.
So had a great weekend with Brian and my youngest nieces and nephew. Took them down near Punta Gorda to go on a snorkel trip. Some of us had never done it before but everyone did great. Everyone had a great time and saw all kinds of cool stuff.

This is one of those days that as we drove home I kept thinking I would really love to tell mom how good the kids were and how much fun we had. How we swam in the pool and went out to eat and how they all behaved and everything else about today. Swimming, snorkeling and seeing a dolphin and all kinds of living creatures under the water. Some might argue she was there with us sitting on the boat enjoying the sun for the afternoon. Hanging out with the Captain watching all of us swim and call out to her what we were seeing. The kids may have even brought some of the coolest things over to the boat to show her. She would have loved the birds and the boat and even eating lunch afterwards at Leverocks. She would of loved being with the kids.

If you stuck with me through this whole post you have been on the ups and downs. I have made forward progress but every once in a while I take a step back and have a set back but at the end of the day I know there is a goal and it will be accomplished.

Reading and Writing and Stuff

So back in April I wrote a post about being Sentimental or is it Sediment. I just finished re-reading it and well. I wish I could say that my position on the subject had changed or that I have found the answer or seen the light. I have not. I am still wrestling with the stuff and the memories. Now I am not saying that we have not gotten rid of more stuff. A total of 11 bags of clothes have been donated and about 4 thrown out which is amazing considering the lady only wore about 3 outfits. And I am not talking kitchen garbage bags I am talking 30 gallon outdoor trash bags. Since then I have taken some 10 boxes of stuff to an antique auction and am still waiting for the results of how that has done. So stuff is going away. Craigslist has not been the help I thought it would be to get rid of some of the furnishings but I am going to post the items again. Now that it is time for kids to go back to school maybe some first time apartment owner could use a dining room table and chairs or a bookshelf. I could only hope that they would also want the books on the shelf as well but I doubt we will be that lucky.

The thing that I have kind of morphed my thoughts of my mom's stuff and her memory to me and my stuff and the memory of me. If mom's stuff doesn't matter to others than neither will mine and I have devalued myself to a place I would prefer not to be. There are things that the memories are so strong when I look at in her house and I think no one is going to look at anything and hold me that dear. I will give the strangest example: My mom had a cat years ago that would pee on anything to mark it. So to keep the cat from peeing on mom's shoes she used to pick them up and sit them on a dining room chair. Well the cat died years ago but mom always continued to pick up her shoes and sit them on the chair. And after she passed I noticed one day the shoes sitting on the chair and I thought to pick them up and throw them out. And then I looked at them. Hmm. I see them in my head right now and the tears are running down my face. It is just a stupid pair of deck shoes but I swear if they are tossed now I would be so upset. It has been suggested to me to take a picture of them to remind me of her habit. I know I am not going to bring the chair and the shoes to my house to sit in my dining room. I will end up getting rid of them but for now they sit there.

So my own new found personal lack of value is a self destructive thing that I know is just over thinking the whole thing. But the great thing about my brain is I just don't let go of it. The thoughts sit in my head and get stirred around within my daily thoughts and now I found myself wishing for happier thoughts and brighter days.

I am hoping by writing these things down that I can let them go. I have thought them they are of no value to me and now they can be gone. I am going to say on a positive note that even though I have not posted anything recently I have written some. Still not finished with a poem that I carry in my purse just in case the thoughts to complete it all come together one day when I am not near pen and paper. But I also have attended a reading of fiction and non-fiction at an art gallery in St. Pete. It was very nice and I did read the piece I wrote for mom. Yes, I cried but when I was done the lady in charge said that mom would be proud of me for reading it. And another lady said she wished she would have written after her mother passed. So over all that was a good experience and I would like to write something new between now and September when there will be another reading event. Something a little less close to my heart even though that is where the writing comes from so I doubt I can distance my heart from my writing.

Well the sun is starting to come up and I feel a little bit better. I have shared a memory or two and spilled more tears and of my guts than I probably should but I will head back to bed.

Hear is to happier days.

Let the Tour begin

Today is not the sit down and write the entire post in an hour kind of day. This one takes a week but here goes. I began on July 2nd the first day of this year's Tour de France. In my mind I see my mom singing,"it's the most wonderful time of the year." Mom loved the  Tour. She loved the scenery and she would watch each days events each time they were broadcast. For 21 days she would call and say we should watch and see the castles and the sunflowers or the lavender fields. Or we should see the elaborate display of a bicycle made of hay and how the farmer makes the wheels turn with their tractor. The views from the helicopter are always amazing. Brian likes to see them crash.
Today as I watched I thought how I have learned a little French from watching the tour. The word peloton, which is french for ball but in cycling it is the main field of riders. Another phrase I thought of was Maillot Jaune, or in English the yellow jersey which is worn by the leader of the race, which can change each day or stay the same for days or weeks at a time.

I have often wondered if watching street side would be as fun as mother found it to be watching on tv. I thought many times about it but when mentioned she never seemed interested in actually going to France but part of me would like to experience it for her.  Experience the people of the Basque region (southern part of France that boarders with Spain runs along the Pyrenees Mountains), The people of that region always wearing orange which I have learned is the color of the telco company. And the people are referred to as the "orange crush". They line the top of the mountain stages and get so close to the riders I am always afraid one will be hit. They always talk of how these people have been up on top of the mountain some waiting for days for the riders to get to that stage. To say some of these fans are crazy would be an understatement but it always makes for an interesting day.
The down hill trek can sometimes be cold and to keep warm the riders will grab a newspaper from a bystander and stick it under their jersey. It keeps them warm as they are heading down hill at 40 miles per hour. If you are interested next week they should be riding through this area and you will see how fun loving the Basque people can be.

So far this week mom's favorite rider Mark Cavendish has already won 3 stages. Not sure why mom liked him other than he was from the Isle of Mann in Britain and my brother had friends from that same place, A place known for the motor cycle races which I have also watched at my mother's urging. Mark has now won 29 stages over his career just in the Tour. He wins the stages in the last seconds which could be why she liked him. One win this week a photo finish that was so close but the day before he lost by just that close as well. That does make for an exciting end to a 100 mile ride. He is in the front of the peloton with his lead off men that will drop off one by one after they have pulled him up close to the front and kept the pace for a while then in the last mile as the rest have faded Mark and a few other sprinters will do what they do best. Race like crazy for the finish line. Good Luck for the rest of the race Mark. Mom is watching and cheering you on.

Mom also liked the commentary on the race the two Englishmen that call the race point out the interesting sites and explain parts of the race that people outside the bicycle world may not understand. One example they would refer to is a Natural Break. It is truly a pee break along the road. The cameras will divert our eyes to more scenic things during the natural break but yes the riders do pause along the way. Mom's favorite commentator Bob Roll, an American cyclist from the US 7-Eleven team from back in the 1980's who road along with the likes of  Greg LeMond who was the first non-European to win the Tour de France. Bob is known for his witty commentary and they have a segment called Ask Bobke which you can submit your questions about the race and he will answer. I to find him to be quite fun and would like to meet him.

Along with the Tour I thought about the things she liked that she shared with us like bacon. BLTs were a Saturday staple at her house but both Billie and I can tell you we never have bacon at home. But would look forward to going down to her house and eating BLTs for lunch. Was it because that was just something to share at mom's or would it maybe not be as good at home. Yes I am crying over the thought of a BLT or the smell of bacon cooking at mom's.

I am going to continue watching this weeks tour and maybe next Saturday have a BLT with Billie and continue to enjoy the Tour as she would have. Au Revoir for now.