January, new month, new year, new start! My kind of deal with one exception, the weather. After living in the Midwest my entire life, it’s reasonable to assume I’ve made peace with winter. I haven’t. But one of my annual resolutions is to maintain a positive attitude and quit grumbling about what does or doesn’t fall from the sky. Some years I do better with these character-building resolves than others. This year, I’ve picked up the pace. Like it or hate it, winter is the price we pay for the perks we enjoy such as lower cost of living, less traffic, and a greater sense of grassroots and familiarity in our neighborhoods. Healthy eating, healthy living are repeat resolutions. Having made some strides in the fight against fat, I hope to continue seeing less of me. It’s a slow process and exercise is never going to be my pastime of choice, but 45 to 60 minutes of time each day is a small price for improved health.

And then there’s organization, another January 1st resolution repeat.Yes, considerable progress is ongoing, but I’ve yet to master the less is more philosophy. Just before Christmas, I detail my “after the holidays plan” to my husband. He’s heard the story before, which might account for his glazed expression. Instead of encouraging me in my search for Organizational Nirvana, he tells me I have more papers in my possession than some small businesses. I am annoyed.

I remind him how I’ve shared the best years of my life with him, and so what if they came with a paper trail. It’s kept us from getting bored. Every day’s an adventure of remembering, “Now where did I put that?” Or “Have you seen?” followed by multiple choices. This year will be different. If I depart this earth suddenly, I don’t want to be embarrassed at my mess left behind nor do I wish to burden my loved ones with my stuff. They’ll just snicker and speculate about why I kept certain things. But if it’s organized, read neatly filed and labeled, they’ll be intrigued and exceedingly busy trying to determine the importance of my papers.

Contrary to the advice of the organizational gurus who say purge, then purchase, I’ve already secured storage tubs, file folders, filing cabinets, fancy folders, paper clips, rubber bands, and etc. I am good to go!

So when my friends and neighbors, who did not resolve to remain positive no matter how high the snow drifts, are suffering from cabin fever and the like, I will be busy categorizing, and reducing the stacks of paper, much to the surprise and pleasure of hubby dear and our children three.

If my life expectancy takes a fast turn for the worse, I’ll be prepared. If life continues as planned, I’ll be organized and able to produce documentation for the simplest query. The challenge is getting started and staying focused. I’m easily distracted, which might explain why I’m confronted with this paper back up in the first place.

Downsizing is my challenge and goal for ‘08. Fewer papers, less of me, cleaned off horizontal surfaces, and hopefully less winter weather. The last one is not within my realm of authority but the first three I can accomplish. To a Happy, Tidy New Year!

We’re in a huge home-improvement store where folks looking to improve or add on to a home find endless supplies and items. To the creative soul, such merchandise conjures up all sorts of imaginative floor plans. To the non-visionary, it’s not a very interesting place to visit. We’re simply tag-alongs, waiting for our shopping companions to finish. We walk up and down the aisles, while I chatter incessantly so she doesn’t get fussy. It’s not easy entertaining a 20-month old in a place where lumber and construction materials reign supreme.

It’s still weeks before the holiday season “officially” begins even though no one is quite sure any longer when it does begin. But in our trek throughout the store, we spot holiday decorations. There’s nothing lavish about them, but to her, they are an absolute wonder. She is enthralled over the bear that jumps up and down, the reindeer that sings, and the musical Christmas trees. Quite honestly it all looks somewhat tacky to me, but her eyes are less discriminating. She laughs loudly and repeatedly while customers smile broadly as they watch her.

The familiar refrain of seeing the wonder of Christmas through the eyes of a child runs through my mind. I’m grateful to be in this large store with my granddaughter, Lili, and to see, really see the absolute wonder and joy of the season. It’s certainly true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and so is appreciation for what we perceive as lovely and attractive. To me the decorations are uneventful. To her, they represent what we strive for every Christmas season with our shopping and decorating.

A few weeks later, still a bit before “the season” is in full swing, I visit a large store’s toy department. I’m looking for accessories suitable for Lili and Emma, my older granddaughter by five weeks. They both like playing babies and they need bottles and dishes and blankets for their baby dolls. Shopping for them is pure pleasure. Their toys are affordable, no assembly required, and the kind that are familiar to grandmas. No batteries or directions are necessary. Just an imagination and creative role-playing can transform the simplest toys into a magic world of pretend. Besides, grandmas love buying dolls! I can remember playing with dolls and I remember buying them for my own daughters.

Gift buying and giving often present dilemmas each year. While I’m not convinced that Christmas presents should be only for children, I do believe that innocence and reduced expectations have a huge impact on the gift giver and recipient. Sometimes it seems as though we’ve veered far away from the original intent of giving gifts. They are meant to be given with generosity and thoughtfulness and received with appreciation and a similar measure of thoughtfulness. Anything less simply devalues the meaning of gift giving at Christmas and any time throughout the year.

Christmas with all its commercialism, religious significance, festivities, and certain frustrations is truly a celebration for the young at heart. It requires believing that the world can be transformed by goodness and love even when such a belief surpasses our understanding. And it invites us to share peace and good will generously with others not just at Christmas but throughout each day of the year.

According to my younger sources, phone books and dictionaries are passé. Information they provide is now checked online. I refute that claim, realizing no matter how eloquent my argument, it can’t be proven true or false. To explain further, “younger” is a relative term at best, depending on the age of the person doing the comparison. For me, younger refers to anyone younger than my children. I realize that standard of measurement must change eventually. Should I live long enough to have a 50 year old “child,” I must concede their age is moving right up the longevity ladder. But for now, anyone 34 years of age or less is younger. Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Allison,

When you called to announce your engagement, the excitement in your voice was wonderfully contagious! How great hearing your good news! As your “beloved aunt,” your name for me, I’m permitted a certain nostalgia about this life-changing event for you. I can vividly remember when your mother called telling us of your pending birth. In my mind, that happened not very long ago so I’m trying to get a grasp on your engagement.

I know, “Keep up with the times, Auntie,” and I’m trying! You and I have never lived close to each other, but we’ve always kept in touch. And your mom and I have faithfully corresponded with each other since her childhood so I feel closer to you than the map suggests.
Read the rest of this entry »

 Details were checked extensively before we decided on the specifics of our get-away. Twelve women involved in numerous activities make for lots of phone calls, emails and revisions in choosing a mutually convenient time.

Our original number of 12, we all play Bunco together each month, was reduced to seven. A spa weekend isn’t for everyone and we’re all about personal choices. We left our respective homes on Saturday morning, met at one house, packed the cars, and headed for the highway. Read the rest of this entry »

Dog days of summer remind me of restful times rather than scorching Midwest afternoons. Probably because when I hear the word dog, my ears perk up, similar to my canine friends, and my heart bubbles over with love. Dogs have occupied a special place in my life since I was a child. I love them immensely. And I know how they love to lie on the ground or a cold surface and do absolutely nothing. I can identify with the doing nothing part. Not that it’s anything to brag about, but I am excellent at such inaction. Type A people find it excruciatingly difficult to simply be still and not accomplish something. Too bad for them.

While I’m better than good at being physically inactive, my mind is always going. The nuns from my school days used to suggest meditation as a form of prayer. God was uncomfortably distant when I would sit and try clearing my mind. I’ve grown to love quiet and sitting, but I find trying to empty my mind tedious work. My racing thoughts are often helpful in sorting out situations. In the early morning, I so enjoy hot coffee and thinking about my life. And I’ve come up with a thought or two about our existence in this interesting and multi-dimensional world.

Questions are thought provoking and not to be boastful, but I excel at questions. Many are philosophical in nature, while others are a bit random. For example, where do all the crumbs and debris in the silverware drawer come from and how do they squeeze inside a closed drawer? I’ve found tiny unsavory pieces of “stuff” next to the knives and forks and I’m baffled about their origin when the silverware is put away clean. Or why do cobwebs appear only after company has arrived? Where were they the day before or that morning when I was cleaning? Invisible! Only to resurface when guests are looking about the house. There are myriad such questions one might ask, and I do, often.

And observations, I love them. During the recent televised concert in memory of Princess Diana, one young man’s enthusiasm for the music was contagious. He was swaying and moving and wearing an enormous smile. He had no sense of rhythm, at least none he was displaying, but that didn’t bother him in the least. He was into the music and was a great reminder to the rest of us more self-conscious souls that ability is no match for enjoyment. I’m certain Princess Diana would concur.

My most recent observation is that multi-tasking is currently not good for me. “Concentrate on the activity you’re engaged in,” say the memory enhancing articles that are now so pertinent to me. My mother used to encourage me to multi-task long before the word was in vogue. No more. I lose track of the where and why and everything in between. One thing at a time is my mantra. Positive outcomes are more important than quantity of accomplishments.

While I no longer have a loving dog to join me in the task of doing nothing, I still delight in the inactivity. Dog days of summer or winter wonderlands, matters not. No multi-tasking allowed! Just thoughts and observations and questions for pondering.

Dressing room conversations lend themselves nicely to eavesdropping. Although if the conversation can be clearly heard without effort, it’s probably not eavesdropping. The anonymity provided by closed doors and partitions gives shoppers a false sense of privacy. They feel it’s okay to discuss situations and conditions unsuitable for strangers’ ears. Fellow shoppers may be busy trying on clothes and planning purchases, but within those friendly confines, they can hear everything. Curtains or partitions provide privacy, but not soundproofing.

Department stores in this area often give seniors added discounts on Wednesdays. “Senior” is defined differently by various stores, but regardless, Wednesday shopping means dodging more than a usual number of walkers, wheel chairs and people not in a hurry. I like seeing seniors out and about and admire them for leaving the comforts of home, particularly those for whom mobility is a real challenge. More power to them.

In some stores, I’m considered a senior and I have no qualms cashing in on my discount. But as a bit of a newcomer to the 20 to 25% off day, I sometimes forget that the majority of shoppers that day will likely be much older than me. I enjoy their company. They are a poignant reminder of how much I miss being with my Mom.

Now about the dressing room chitchat I’ve heard lately. It’s certainly not confined only to seniors, but it definitely takes on different qualities depending on the age of the one speaking and listening.

One day, and keep in mind, I never see these folks, just hear their conversations, it was a mother and daughter, and it’s likely they both received the senior discount. They were in the foundations department, that term alone qualifies me for senior status, and the mom was doing the trying on, and the daughter was making subtle and not-so-subtle suggestions. It was so sweet listening to their interactions.  This mom once helped her daughter with the necessities of life and now the roles had reversed. And I was an uninvited guest hearing the patience, love, and respect in their voices. Shopping that day provided me with many memories.

The next time I was trying on clothes, same store, different department, it was a three-generation family shopping together. A child, and I couldn’t tell by the voice if it was a boy or girl, had some very definite opinions about mom’s sense of fashion.  Apparently her fashion sense was less than stellar and the child wasn’t bashful about telling her that. At one point, the child instructed the mom on the specifics for apparel if she wanted to look like a rock star. I don’t think that was the look she had in mind. Grandma was also shopping although the child was less critical of her choices. Kids usually cut grandma more slack than Mom.

I’m looking forward to shopping with my granddaughters. Whether I let them in the dressing room or not is yet to be decided. I’d prefer to skip their scrutiny of my figure flaws and age conditions. But if they are with me while I’m trying on clothes, I’ll tell them to whisper. You never know who might be next door listening!