Before I type anything else, let it be known, that I would like to marry Anthony Hopkins. I am aware that he is already married, but in the event he becomes unmarried I’d like a shot. Even at his advanced age, because let’s face it, I am also of an advanced age. Although he is 20 years older than me. There are others in the Hollywood realm that I would consider but Anthony Hopkins is pretty consistently at the top.
In other news:
My back is feeling almost back to normal. I am taking my yoga responsibility seriously but my practice still could use improvement with consistency. What else…Jean and I had a lovely lunch at Gaucho and a matinee showing of Moulin Rouge at the Benedum. It was a lovely lovely afternoon. But since coming home I have done nothing but sit on this couch. There is soo much I should be doing but I can’t bring myself to get off the couch.
Now tomorrow, which is Friday, I will have a busy day. First, I’ll be checking out the possibility of a new apartment. Just kinda feeling it out. There’s no question that it’s time to get out of the city but not sure this is the right time to move. After apartment perusing in the morning, I have to pack up the car and head up north to set up at Gardner’s Greenhouse for Saturday’s Annual Craft and Amish Donut Sale show. I haven’t been hugely successful at this jar selling stuff, yet, so we will see how this one goes. I’m hopeful, but in the meantime I’m also not decorating any new jars until we see how it goes. I do hate to think about giving up my jar decorating obsession but until I find a way to get them out of my house I’m going to have to slow down. I have a jigsaw puzzle I can do in the meantime if I have to put the jar habit away.
Ordinarily I would not post this, because its stupid. But in keeping with my goal of writing weekly it’s all I got. One last thing, I don’t like the looks of Nicole Kidman’s face. I don’t know what she’s done to herself but I don’t like it.
And now you know what I’ve done all night (watched TV). It’s hard being retired.
It’s Friday. Time for my report. Here’s what’s been happening this week:
My back is so much better. The pain has localized into like a side “stitch” kinda thing. I mean, Advil is still my friend, but compared to last week I can’t believe how much better I feel. I read something I thought interesting enough to share…so, on an emotional level it says when we are faced with an emotion, like anger, frustration, guilt, anything really, we are supposed to express it. Not suppress it. The author suggests doing something physical to release the anger or whatever it is, i.e. punch a pillow, throw something (but not at someone) go for a walk, a run, do pushups, something to release it. When we don’t do that, express it, the emotion goes into our subconscious because we have to get rid of it somehow, and then the subconscious releases it back into the body. Now….isn’t that interesting? I mean, isn’t it? That does not negate the fact that I was throwing around a suitcase for 5 days that was most probably too heavy, and that drugs and chiropractors and yoga are not helpful, but I just thought that was fascinating enough to share.
Okay what else? Lantern Flies. I mean What are these things? First it was stink bugs that seemed to be randomly deciding where they would invade. Some houses FULL of them and the next-door neighbor would have nothing. I haven’t seen a stink bug in years. Now Lantern Flies are invading the city as if God has sent a plague. Or is it the Chinese? I thought I was safe up here on the 10th floor keeping my window cracked open but noooo, they are now getting up this high and yesterday I had to shoo one out. Luckily I caught him as he flew in. Then I shut the window. I mean how sad is it not to have that nice fall air coming in your window? As I googled, I found out they are known to “swarm” at night so no cracked window for me. And then with the window shut I look up and see one crawling up the wall. The M.F’er. So I hit him with a broom, grabbed with a Kleenex and into the garbage. THEN I was reading more about the effers and was reading how they are hard to kill and even if you think you got them they spring back to life and wouldn’t you know I went to the garbage can and that little sucker was all back to normal, alive, so I flushed him. I check the toilet every time before sitting. You know just incase they climb back up.
The city is inundated with them. Look at this:
Every time I walk outside I get at least one flown at me, into my face, into my chest or arms, and those are the ones I catch enough to shake off. The other ones seem to love flying into the back of my neck and hair. I mean every.single.time I walk outside. And you know I walk to work so I’m fighting them always. They seem 100 times worse than the stink bugs were. They’re much bigger and they’re harder to kill because they jump. Here is one little tip for you homeowners that I picked up: Plant Milkweed. They are attracted to the scent which is poisonous to them, although some articles say this is not scientifically proven. I hope the city takes note and plants milkweed all over the city. The little critters seem impossible to keep up with and apparently they can be frozen and then come back to life. So even a hard freeze won’t help. If you don’t have them yet, you will. I would start planting that milkweed now if I were you. And here’s another fun fact: the first one in the US was in Berks County, Pennsylvania. I don’t how they know that kind of thing but that’s what I read.
Ok and my last thought I had just today: are we, or are we not, a society of instant gratification? Like on Instagram, we scroll through photos or “clips” – I think Snapchat is even quicker? I don’t know as I don’t have Snapchat but my point is we are a society of quick hits and then we keep scrolling. But when I go to read a news article it seems like forever long. Like even longer than my meaningless blog posts. I keep thinking the article is over and it keeps going on and on and on. And as a writer I think “you could have cut out half of this and it still would have been effective” but no, on and on and on. I can’t really balance/make sense of these two extremes in my head. I like to be informed but sometimes I just want it to be over.
I was very teary leading up to the return flight back home here to Pittsburgh. I did not want to leave SF. The whole trip couldn’t have been nicer. I’m looking for houses in Yountville 😉 One here in Pittsburgh and one there. Plenty of people do that, why can’t I? If only I was a successful author.
I did not have a favorite part of this trip as it was all so wonderful, but I will say going to Yountville, again, was kinda special. The last time I was there was 2 weeks before the 9/11 event (in 2001) with a group from Federated Investors. I was there as their meeting planner with a lovely night at the Ritz in San Francisco and then bussed to the Napa area, Yountville specifically, and when Jimmy was driving us through that area (and we had lunch there) it brought back all those wonderful memories. There is something about Yountville that speaks to me (and probably millions of others). Florida was like that too at one point. Well, anyway, I loved it all. All of it.
Turns out there is one thing (and only one) that could have been better. Like someone to wrangle the suitcase. Because of the room I was staying in I had to lift the thing onto the bed each day, then open and get our stuff out, put the stuff back in, zip it and back on the floor. Because the dog also shared our room it was a lot of lugging that thing to keep the dog out. One night I looked down to see the cat sleeping in it, but she (the cat) was sleeping on John’s side of the suitcase so I just went back to sleep. But I’m strong right? I lug things all the time. Except…
We came home Tuesday night, more lugging of suitcase at the airport. Those luggage turnstile thingies are not user friendly. But I did it, I lugged it off the carousel and wheeled to the car, lugged it into John’s house, unpacked his stuff, lugged it back to my car, lugged it back up to my apartment, lugged it onto the bed, unpacked my stuff, and put it away. That is just an example of one days worth of lugging. Kinda did that everyday out there. Anyway, next day, Wednesday I got up like any other day and started getting ready for my day (i.e. work) when I started having back contractions. Had I been pregnant it would have been a clear sign for me to go to the hospital to deliver. It’s kinda funny (but not) when something new like this happens. In my mind I’m like “what the fu** is this?” I’ve had cramps before and you know overworked muscles but this, this is like nothing I’ve experienced. I called 911. I was sure it was my kidneys. It did not feel remotely like a muscle or pulled back. Ambulance guys were funny because I was standing when they got here. They’re like “we’re here for YOU?” LOL. I said yes, and I’m standing but that’s because I can’t sit or move and I don’t know what’s happening. Again, sure I’m in kidney failure. I started to get dizzy, my BP dropped to 90/50 I’m passing out and so they took me to the ER. I can not tell you how bad those spasms were. And they literally came and went like a contraction.
I was in the ER all day, from 9 to 4. They checked pee and gave me a ton of pain meds and since the pain meds didn’t seem to work they did a CT scan but in the end they didn’t find anything to keep me. The pain meds helped me sleep and by the time Zach came for me I was able to walk. So, moral of the story, what everyone attributes this after-shock to is the suitcase lugging.
Ya know, about a month ago, I stopped doing yoga which I had been doing faithfully, daily, for over a year and then I just stopped. I wonder why. But I will tell you now that I will take that sh*t seriously and not stop again. I am already doing a little cat/cow and a child’s pose helps. I’m supposed to take it slow so no downdog I think. It’s been a couple days now, cause it’s Friday and I’m already doing better. I am planning on going to my craft fair tomorrow. I reached out to them and they said the table is all set up and they can help me with boxes. However, I popped a pill today and loaded the boxes in the car by myself so I think I’m going to be okay. The boxes are light. Just probably don’t want to pop a pill before driving there. I was thinking of asking my 10 year old niece for her assistance but I don’t want anyone else in the car incase I kill myself. I don’t need to take anyone else out with me.
So there you have it. A not so great ending to a perfect vacation. I promised my body (we had words) that I will get back to yoga. When talking to the doctor, still sure it was kidneys, she said “not kidneys” and I just need to strengthen my core. I wanted to reach through the phone and punch her in the face. What a stupid thing to say. Plenty of people have weak cores and don’t end up in the ER for Christmas sake. But she sent me some exercises and I’ve started them. I mean ok. I’m old. I guess I can’t lug the suitcase like I once could. Honestly I don’t think I ever could lug it like I was doing on this trip. I just thought I was getting away with it and so just do it. The only thing I was expecting was maybe a sore back or a couple days of my body sleeping but to out and out knock me down was uncalled for. (this is the conversation I had with my body) – So we’re coming to an agreement (me and myself). I’ll exercise and it’ll back off (get it?) and we will work together going forward. Next California trip is scheduled for January and that’s winter clothes. They’re even heavier. Perhaps a personal trainer is in my future.
I am writing this on Wednesday but will do something fancy so it doesn’t post until Friday, striving to stay on schedule. By the time this is posted it will be day 2 of my SF (that’s San Francisco) visit with my son Jimmy and his fiancé Emily. I’m going with Jimmy’s dad, John. Jimmy’s dad recently had a stroke, after we booked this trip, and to say I’m a nervous wreck about traveling with him in this condition is an understatement. BUT he is wanting to go and so he’s going. Jimmy assures me that he will do all the caretaking once there and I can lay in the hammock in their yard. And that is exactly where I expect to be on Friday, at least before we go to dinner. Also, he really doesn’t need a lot of care as he is doing well with his rehab. I’m just a born worrier.
John (the dad) is really putting the effort in his rehab/recovery so I’m confident everything will be fine. It will be different traveling with all the accoutrements (walker, cane, etc.) but my friend Diane does it with BOTH her parents when they travel to Florida so if she can do it, I can do it. My hope is the airlines takes pity on us and put us in first class (there’s still 2 seats available) otherwise we are way back in row 31. But again, these plans were made before the “event” and neither of us want to pay the $1000 each to upgrade. He’ll just walk slowly to get to his seat.
So that’s what’s on my agenda. When I get back next week I have a craft show the following weekend so I’ve been getting ready for it now so I don’t have any last minute worries. Also those jars have to dry for at least a week so I can’t do any last-minute jars anyway. So it’s all good there. I think my part time job is not crazy about my absence but I pretty much don’t care. I’m retired! (although who we kidding, I feel guilt)
Alright that’s it. Short and sweet. We have to be at the airport at the crack of dawn. With any luck the plane will take off on time. That’s the main concern now. Will it even take off? Travel sure ain’t what it used to be. Why, in my day….
In the old days I had a reminder on Fridays to blog. I totally ignored it. But last week after I posted a blog (after a 2 month hiatus) on a Friday, and then Janelly said she missed my blogs, I thought “maybe I’ll try blogging on Fridays again” – just for Janelly. And then I totally forgot about it, until now. It turns out, as is consistent with my life now, and maybe always, that the best laid plans…
Next Thursday I’m leaving for San Francisco. I have a lot to do to get ready to go. My Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday are all booked with various commitments which left today to pack, etc. AND get ready for the craft show that will be on the Saturday when I get back. I get back on Tuesday night. Work Wednesday and Thursday which leaves Friday to pack the car to be ready for the 8 am craft fair on Saturday. So I was looking forward to getting my act together today. And then….
Last night, coming home from mom day (the day I visit mom) pulling into my city garage, that is under construction, I did not judge the entrance around the construction barriers correctly and caught the corner of the barrier and it popped off the corner of my bumper. I mean talk about WTF. So instead of coming into the apartment and getting started on “stuff” I needed to get done for my busy busy week, I sat on the couch, pissed off, and ate M&Ms. I was asked to send a photo of the bumper to a friend who thought her husband could fix it but I wasn’t going back over there last night. This morning I didn’t even want to get out of bed and think about it. BUT I did get out of bed and walked over and took the photo sent it to her and then decided to send it to another friend who works at an Auto Collision Repair shop. She told me to bring it on in. I did and they popped it back into place and used a zip tie. I mean talk about God being good but so is Janice, James and Tony at the Collision place. After that problem solved I came home and got all the clothes out for the trip. AND, AND, I was able to get all my stuff in ½ of my suitcase. So the person I’m going with can hopefully get their stuff in the other half and look at that, saving money and luggage space. Now, at 4 pm, I’m in my P.J’s and have a little bit of time before my evening commitment and out comes a blog. I mean, how productive was I today even with an unexpected car incident. Don’t you wonder sometimes how you get it all done? I do. Like when I’m entertaining and I have lofty goals for a menu and somehow, miraculously, I get it all done in time. Although I don’t entertain very often now, like never, I still remember how I used to pull it all together.
Speaking of that, I am wondering if it’s time to part with all my dishes. I have 7 or 8 sets of dishes. Mainly just different dinner plates, not like total sets. But living in this stupid city really limits my entertaining options. Nobody wants to come in and risk getting shot, although I’m starting to think as long as they are not selling crack they’re probably going to be okay, but I can’t promise that. I really, really want to move out of the city. REALLY. But in the meantime my part time job is just a walk up the street and my rent is paid for another month so I’m here until at least October.
The moral of the story? There’s always time to blog. Or maybe it’s that things always work out? I don’t know, but here you go Janelly. Just for you.
I was on a call today about promoting my book. You know the one, the only one, Finally Florida. Which led me to look at Goodreads, which led me to update my Books Read page which led me to the fact that I have an Author page which showed me that this blog is connected to Goodreads so it automatically posts on my Goodreads Author page. I have been so absent from writing that I forgot all about that. I’ve obviously forgotten all about the fact that I’ve been a writer. Well, I haven’t really forgotten it. It’s in the back of my mind, always. And I have my book on a table in the middle of the room so every time I walk by it I see it and remember, oh yea, I did that. For awhile I was working on subsequent books and then the Jars happened.
I have been utterly consumed with decorating Jars. In the spiritual world (assuming like everything is connected to everything else) I have no frickin idea how decorating jars would be connected to writing. Other than they are both creative endeavors and Julia Cameron (author of the Artist’s Way) would be very proud of me for expanding my creative self. But it doesn’t help sales of my book. Nor does it expand my goal of writing more books. So today I made a date with two other authors to see what they do to promote themselves and to try and get back to the writer that I am. I mean even Patrick hasn’t sent me a reminder to blog in MONTHS. MONTHS! But I am determined to revive myself as the wannabe writer than I am, or was, or am going to be again.
There is so much happening in my life since retirement. Sometimes I want to cry because I’m so busy and I really long for those beach days when I just grabbed a chair and sat on the beach and read a book. I had no (or minimal) friends in the Florida area so I was not making plans for lunches or dinners as I do now. It’s no one’s fault but my own. I love my friends and I want to see them and I see a free day on my calendar and bam I have a lunch planned. That’s how it starts you know. Then while I’m on the phone catching up with someone who I haven’t had lunch with I start painting a jar. I am a multi-tasker at heart. Often times when on the phone I’ll start dusting. I got that idea from Peggy a long long time ago. I dusted today while talking on the phone. I don’t have any more jars to paint at the moment. I need to go buy some more. But now my adorable, beautiful apartment is littered with jars and napkins (that’s what I decorate the jars with, napkins). So anyway, how is a girl supposed to find the time to write? Oh wait, and then I thought, financially I should probably get a part time job because well I always knew I’d have to support myself in addition to Social Security right? And although I had hoped that my book would be an overnight success and then I’d be this sought after author, well, it hasn’t happened, yet. And when I started decorating these jars it never occurred to me to sell them. It only occurred to me to sell them because I was making too many and had no idea what to do with them. So I decided to try and sell them. That venture has just begun so whether it becomes lucrative or not is yet to be seen.
But, so, work, yea, I called a temp agency and at first there was no response. Was that the Universe telling me no need to go down that path? But then I doubled down and called again and this time there was a response and then they found a job that was supposed to be one day and going forward I would only be called in when the other woman called off. Well, after the first day, “can you come back on Wednesday?” So I was like “sure.” Then it was “can you stay longer?” I agreed to two days a week, 11 am – 3 pm. That was their hours set, not mine, but it worked for me. Then they called and asked if I would work 3 days a week instead of two. Wasn’t this just supposed to be filling in for the full-time person who I was in there supplementing for when she called off? After a long call with Diane who said “you need to set boundaries” – I pulled myself up and stuck to my guns. Two days. That’s it. That’s my boundary.
Okay then it was two days from 11 am – 3 pm. The very next day, “can you stay until 5?” Okay fine, and then when I go into the office the very next day, keep in mind this is like my 4th day in the office, they tell me the other girl has now quit. For gawd’s sake. BUT I stick to my guns and no I will not work 3 days. NO. Then “well can you come in tomorrow?” (it was for a Thursday) and I said “nope, it’s mom day and she takes priority, sorry”. I mean what have I gotten myself into? Why can’t they leave me alone? The curse of doing a good job.
There are a couple of things I do like about the work. Like there’s an electric typewriter still in use. I, for some reason, find this so much fun when I get to use the typewriter. It’s so nostalgic and it all comes rushing back to me, those days of long ago before keyboards and computers.
I bought an electric typewriter once for my mom, when she was living in Virginia. I can’t remember if she was blind already when I bought it. I might have thought that the memory of typing could be fun for her but I can’t remember the “when” of when I got it for her. I do remember she gave it away and it broke my heart. But if she was blind I can certainly see why. I mean really, she could type but she couldn’t read it back. What’s the use? But I can read things back. Perhaps typing a book on a typewriter would be fun. Hmmm, maybe there’s a spark of something there. Hmm Hmm Hmm.
Let’s see, other aspects of working, well I don’t really mind it. It’s full of tasks and to-do lists and well it’s not a bad thing. It’s only a couple blocks up the street so I am getting exercise when I walk there. There’s a Target on the way home so I can run in and get something to eat for the walk home (for dinner) if needed. The whole working thing makes me feel a little younger actually when I leave at 5 with the rest of the workers I weirdly feel a little young again. So there are some emotional plusses to this work-a-day thing. It’s just that I want to go away. I want to go back to Virginia for a long weekend and well if I have to work on a Monday how does that work? I shouldn’t have to worry about this work business when I’m in retirement. So I’m a little perplexed as to how it fits in the bigger picture. My mom day (I go help with mom) is on Thursday or I could travel on a Thursday-Sunday thing. I guess I could move Mom to Tuesday one week, work Monday, Mom Tuesday, work Wednesday and then go Thursday-Sunday.. But I just hate to accommodate stupid work. See? I have authority issues.
Isn’t this just like me? Rambling on and on with just brain dumping. I mean it’s just so me. And why have I forsaken myself (and my writing) for all these months? I’ll tell you why. Jars! Honestly Jars!
I love my Jars. I’ve done one Flea Market (no sales, not one) and one 2-day “Fair in the Woodlands” which wasn’t a huge success but also not a failure. I’m hoping to do another flea market tomorrow and then I have a few craft shows in September and more to come in the fall. There’s a lot to learn about all this and I am really enjoying all of it. I do kinda wish, in my dream head, that I just had a store front to put them in instead of lugging all this stuff around to craft shows. Especially since my car is parked ½ block away in the city and loading and unloading is a challenge. I’m up to the challenge but wouldn’t it be easier just to plop them in a storefront, and I live in the back of the store? LOL. And people just come in and take what they want. I honestly don’t even care if I sell them I just want them out of my house because I make too many! But I might as well sell them.
Okay this has gone on long enough. If anyone at all reads this then that will be a miracle. But not as much as the miracle I am feeling in writing it again. It’s all coming back to me. I can be a writer AND a jar maker, a candlestick maker and baker. But not a butcher.
Hmmm, maybe I’ll make some chocolate chip cookies.
Nora Ephron wrote a book called I Feel Bad About My Neck and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman. I haven’t read it so I just now bought it. I do not like my neck either and as a matter of fact I’m starting to look into that Cryofacial stuff. Freezing fat. I recently learned about that process. I’d hate to cut myself open and regret it (Courtney Cox, Jennifer Aniston) but I could get behind freezing. Besides my neck issues, I have almost always appreciated my face.
I’m not sure if this was only a Sewickley thing but very few of us in my day, in high school, wore makeup. My dad was never a fan, to the point of asking me on my wedding day what that “shit” was that was on my face. My wedding day. And really the makeup on that day was quite subtle. The “earth mother” look was a term used to describe all us Sewickley girls (Sewickley being my home town) because I had a friend from another school district who was known as my friend with the makeup. LOL. It, makeup, worn on a daily basis anyway, was foreign to us. We were all natural beauties.
There was a boy, Patsy, RIP now, who was gorgeous in high school. One day he went through a windshield in a car accident. His face was completely scarred. With him in mind I would tell the boys driving us around in high school that they better make damn sure I’m dead if they decide to wreck the car so I don’t get scarred like Patsy. Does that sound conceited or insensitive? Damn straight it does. But it was the one feature that I thought was good enough on my body.
Have I taken it for granted all these years that I run out of the house, on any given day, for any reason, without makeup? Do I take it for granted? No. Am I cognizant of it? Yes. However, as I am aging I have asked a couple of friends (see above mention of friend) to give me a lesson on applying makeup. They have not cooperated. This is not to say I never wear makeup. In fact throughout my book, Finally Florida, I have mentioned often about date night and putting on mascara. I’ve worn mascara. And I’ve worn eye shadow. I’ve worn blue and green eye shadow. I have photos of my face with makeup that I would never ever show anyone else because I look like a clown. But I’ve also looked okay with makeup when applied correctly. I’ve recently started to apply foundation on a more regular basis. At least to get through the winter months when I can look so bad. And I am aging. I’ve accepted that. Even with aging I still think my face is okay, round as it is, without makeup, most times. And I still primarily run out of the house with no makeup because that is who I am.
HOWEVER, today, after texting with a group of friends about an upcoming brunch, I got hungry and decided to take myself over to Cherries Diner for a waffle (yes a waffle). I threw on a skort and Tshirt and was ready to go. I looked in the mirror and thought, no. But not wanting to put on makeup to go to the Diner that caters to mostly homeless people I started for the door. There’s another mirror by the door. I looked. I stopped. I went back to the bathroom and thought about my face. I picked up a washcloth and splashed it with water. I thought maybe I just need to wake it up. The cold water did help slightly but there were/are these circle things under my eyes. Eff.. so I picked up this eye cream, expired in 2020, and applied that. Then I left the mirror. I stopped again, got the sunglasses and a ball cap and decided that was good enough. Out I went.
When I analyze the situation, and am completely honest with myself, I don’t really like my face now after I look in the mirror. I don’t like my chin or neck, I don’t like my boobs, I don’t like my stomach. I briefly was envious of my blind mother never ever having to face the mirror again and in her mind she can look any way she wants to look. I have half a mind to go around and cover up all the mirrors but then I would just catch a glimpse of myself as I walked by the all-glass PPG building and be mortified that my skirt was tucked in my underwear (something I would ordinarily catch looking in the mirror) so covering up mirrors is not an option. I do have a full length mirror that I think I look okay in when I’m ready to go out the door. But when I get to my sisters, in the same outfit, and look in her mirror I am horrified. When I don’t look in any mirror I look like myself. I look like I did in my 40’s. Let’s face it no one looks like they did in highschool at this retirement age, but I can live with 40’s.
I have read all the mantras and affirmations about accepting myself as I am and I really do, until I look in the mirror. Then I have to start all over.
In the meantime, until I learn to accept myself just as I am, or let’s be honest, follow through with the Cryoskin thing, I will wear sunglasses and a hat and as my mother said to me 30 years ago when I first started noticing my drooping eyelids, get away from the mirror!
My mother asks me every day, several times a day, what I’m doing. Yesterday, when I was visiting, she asked me many times, “what are you doing tomorrow?” I know as the adult person I am, and the 91-year-old that she is, that she is just trying to make conversation, and she has forgotten what I told her two minutes ago, but the child in me, hearing my mother ask me, makes me tense up, as if when I tell her I’m doing NOTHING I should be ashamed, embarrassed, and inadequate. Then, I feel like I have to justify the fact that I’m doing NOTHING by telling her all the stuff I’ve been doing over the past week, or weeks. And truthfully, this past Monday, I woke up thinking “I’m doing too much, I’m trying too hard, I’m retired, knock it off.” And so I vowed to myself to quit working on all the stuff I’ve been working on and be retired. However, I still feel that twinge of guilt when I have to tell my mother I’m doing NOTHING, even for one day.
It’s been one year since I retired. I celebrated, quietly, with my own thoughts, on April 15. That was my one-year anniversary. Although I think going forward I’m going to make it more of a celebration. Maybe take myself out to dinner. Maybe get together with friends and eat cake. I don’t know but I think the anniversary of retirement is something to celebrate. It’s like the date you finally start living. Like born again. Do you think this is what all the Christian evangelicals mean when they say you won’t get into heaven until you’re born again? Do they mean retirement? Because, to me, that’s what retirement STILL feels like. Heaven.
I have been busy though. Yes, a lot of that business is lunch plans, dinner plans, hopping on a webinar to learn about stuff I like to learn about. The occasional hike. Travel planning (although I’m kind of at a stand still right now) BUT additionally I’ve been working hard on that book of mine. First it was a lot of the drudgery of formatting and getting it posted correctly. I realize now that I’m supposed to do all that BEFORE I post it but, ya know, live and learn. By the time I have the next book figured out I should have all that formatting done prior. It’ll be easier. But anyway, first the formatting, and then learning about marketing and promotion. Trying to figure out my website (not done yet) trying to figure out the review business (and it is a business) and trying to market the book. So there’s been a lot of reading, webinars, trial and error. And then there’s the jars.
I started messing around with decorating jars at Christmas time. I have no idea how I stumbled onto making these jars, but I did, and then I became a little obsessed with making them. Jean calls it therapy. She’s not wrong. I get lost in the jar making and it helps me not obsess about book business, or mom, or whatever else I may be obsessing about in any given moment. Then, I realized, I’m making these jars and what am I going to do with them? Soooo, I started looking into how to sell them. They’re too costly to ship, so I ruled out Etsy. I mean it’s over $10 to ship a jar. It doesn’t make it cost effective. I looked into selling at Farmer’s Markets. That would be my choice and I think it would be soo soo fun. BUT you need a tent, you need weights to hold the tent down, you’d have to know how to put the tent up, you need a table for display and well you need help. I have none of that. No tents, weights, tables, or helpers. I did find a flea market that has indoor space and for a small fee you can get an indoor space AND they provide a table and chairs. However, I can’t get anyone to respond to the emailed request or the two phone calls. I need to go there on the weekend and see if I can find a help. But I have not done that…yet. Sooo, then I thought I’ll sell at a store. Sure, they take a cut of the sales, but I could just see if they sell at all and then I’d know if I can keep making them or not. No one that I’ve reached out to by phone or email has responded. But then I found a posting on Facebook of this store that is opening nearby that is going to have all home-made products for sale. I contacted her and she responded!! She LOVED my jars and had a spot left that I could share with two others. We made an appointment to meet. I was excited. Exactly what I wanted. A spot in a store and what if these other two went to farmers market and they had a tent?? I could share with them. I’d even pay the $50 booth fee if I could just sit under their tent. However, I have this cold that just won’t stop. I think it’s allergies. I don’t think I’m contagious. But I told the woman I have this cold but I’ll wear a mask. She said no problem, but she would prefer if I get sicker not to come and we will facetime. I was sooo excited. This was it. She was in constant contact. The day of the meet I was coughing like an idiot. It just wouldn’t stop. I thought I can NOT go there with this cough. They will all hate me. So she said it was no problem and we’d facetime. I emailed her early, told her about the cough, gave her my phone number and waited by the phone for the facetime call. Nothing. Nada. I have sent her no less than 4 emails. I started to think she was in an accident of some sort and was feeling sorry for her family. Surely she was dead. That was the only explanation I could think of for her unresponsiveness. But then, then, she posts about how excited she is for the store opening on May 1.
I’m devasted.
This was why on Monday I thought, I am trying waaayyyy too hard to make something work. The book, the jars. It was feeling like work and I’m exhausted. So I quit. I reminded myself that I am retired and just took a step back.
Then I sent in another application to be an extra in a commercial. Did I tell you about that? I was an extra in a TV show about a month ago. That was fun. I mean loonnggg day doing mostly nothing, but what a fun thing to experience. So I thought I’d apply to do that again. I mean really you do nothing and it’s a new environment for me. I will say though, it is not an ego booster to be an extra. The crew HATES you. I think that they think that every extra is hoping it’s their breakout role to be a patient in a hospital scene and that is going to catapult them to stardom. I assure you that is NOT my intent. My intent is to have fun and see how another world lives. And I don’t have to do anything but show up. Well that’s not quite true. For the show that I did I had to take outfits to change into. Which was a pain cause I’m lugging all these clothes around a set. We had to change a couple times, but then was never called back to the set. A lot a lot of sitting. And eating! Soooo much food. But I’d do it again. If I get the chance. The first time I was so engrossed in everything going on, but next time, when I become the expert, I’ll just take a book. It reminded me a lot of sitting in an airport waiting for the delayed flight. You get used to sitting there and pull out your book. I can see getting used to sitting there in the background crew area and just reading a book. Maybe I could leave a copy of Finally Florida in a strategic location and someone will pick it up and say….hey….we could make a series out of this? That’s why the crews hate us.
So this week I had lunch on Monday with Angie, lunch on Tuesday with Kathy, a city hike and lunch on Wednesday with Sally (like 8 miles and my feet were crying) Thursday is mom day where I cook for her and sit and read to her for the day and so today was my planned NOTHING day. But really not nothing, here I am typing a blog. That’s not nothing. I moved some money around, but that was late last night so that might not count. I talked to my brother. We got disconnected twice and then he had to hang up on me for real. I played Wordle. Took me FIVE tries. Not a good day. I’ve had two cups of tea. I’m looking around my “corner” where I sit to type these things and do my internet research, and write and I’m thinking maybe that couch is the place to be today. Maybe there’s a movie on I need to see. I mean it’s my NOTHING day. So I need to do nothing. Ooh, movie, maybe, maybe I’ll take myself to a movie.
I would like to write a mystery novel. I’ve started watching “The Last Thing He Told Me” on Apple and after two episodes I’m writing twists and turns in my head on how I think this story could go. It’s not really a fun quality as I’m constantly trying to figure it out, from episode 1. I usually have it figured out before the end. I’d love to write a story with lots of twists and turns. Currently, I have started two other books. And I’m not motivated to work on either of them so I don’t think I should start another one, in another genre, that I’m totally unqualified to write. Still,,,one day I’m gonna do it.
So here’s a funny story, sort of. The other day, well first, to set the scene, I have this cough that I got from my mom. Not Covid. Just a deep cough. I thought maybe it was one of her “near death” symptoms, until I got the same cough, and then just realized she made me sick. So anyway, I was feeling pretty poorly the other day; however, it was a beautiful sunny day, warm temps, so I thought sitting in the sun would do me good. You know when you’re sick and go to sit outside you just throw on a T-shirt, jeans, and on this particular day I threw on a very wrinkled flannel shirt as like a light jacket. I grabbed my book and phone and out I went. Okay, so here I am sitting on a park bench, a bit disheveled looking, because I’m sick and that’s what most people would look like if they went out to their yard sick, and I notice this young man struggling to keep his pants up. At first he was on his phone with one hand, the other hand kept pulling his pants up. At some point he just leans over, pants fall down, then his underwear fall down half way. He’s propped up against a wall, ass out, and he stays that way for however long one does when they get high like that. Could have been 15 minutes could have been 5, could have been 30. I don’t know. But all I kept thinking was we are behind a school (there’s a charter school in my building) – Not only that, but ya know we city folk just want to sit outside and eat our lunch in the sun or read a book. I sent the mayor’s office an email, which I am now wont to do as a city resident, suggesting that at least have a police officer, or security person walk through the park once in awhile. Just walk through, ya know? After a few minutes of me with my holier than thou attitude and disgust with city living these days, the guy leaves and I pick up my book to read. I read about one paragraph and start nodding off. I’m sick you know, and my eyes hurt, and I’m that kind of sick that I just keep nodding off. And I realize had police walked through, or a security, there was not much that separated me from the guy without his pants on. Sure I had my pants on (I think) but I was nodding off on that park bench, I was disheveled looking and well you see where this is going don’t you? Clearly the man with his pants down was high, and clearly I do wish that someone would walk through and just move him along, but clearly I too could have been mistaken for an undesirable.
On another day, when I was dressed appropriately, I was walking down 5th Avenue, coming from Target (the old Kaufmann’s/Macy’s) – it was a cold day, and you know how they have these squares that are like planters, with a tree and some flowers, an elevated concrete planter thing? Know what I’m talking about? Well there was a woman, just fell right over in there and she couldn’t get up. It was cold, snow on the ground cold. I mean it’s like astonishing to see this woman who just fell over and now can’t get up and she’s talking, asking in a very normal voice for someone to help her up. You want to laugh but it was so pathetic, and sad, and like how do you respond, beside wanting to help her get up, which I assure you most people want no part of. I did stop to see if I could assist in some non-physical way. There was one man trying to lift her up. He was having trouble. She was a big woman. I really didn’t want to help pull her up because I was positive I would pull my back out. Luckily another man came and between the two of them they got her upright. She was suffering from the same affliction as the man with his pants down was suffering. The two men righted her and I asked if she wanted me to call anyone. She said no and off we went, left her sitting on the edge of the cold planter. No one was sympathetic to her plight. This is the glamorous city life I lead.
That said I just got my notice to sign my lease for another year of city living. I am told often by friends and family that I don’t belong in the city in a high rise. I need my own little yard where I can fall asleep in my t-shirt, in my own chair, where no one will confuse me with a homeless heroine addict. But even if I could, I would not know where to move. I am all over the place with where I want to call home next. So it looks like it’s another year of city living for me. Maybe this is the year that the city will turn around. Maybe they’ll add rooftop sitting to my building? I’m positive there is a book in there using my city living as a backdrop, with a lot of twists and turns.
It’s been so long I don’t know if I remember how to blog. What is it I do again? It was much easier when I just sat down and wrote what came to mind. I guess that’s what I’m doing now. What is coming to mind is that, now that I’m an author, I need to do author-like stuff, and I am fumbling through this. Like a ship lost at sea, looking to the horizon for any sign of land. That’s kinda poetic isn’t it? Maybe I’ll start writing poetry.
Cutting to the chase, as they say, I need to post my 5 star review on this blog site. I haven’t done that yet have I? I put it on Linked-In but I think I need to put it on this site as well. You know, self promotion and all. Self promotion is what self-publishers must do. And if I understand it correctly so do people who are published by actual publishers so, you know, I don’t feel that bad about it. Anyway, at the bottom of this page will be a copy of my review that I received through Readers Favorite. I think most people have seen this on my Linked-In or Facebook so I apologize for listing it again here. I’ve recently sent out for another review. You have to pay for these reviews you know. Well you probably didn’t know that, but I’m telling you, that’s what you have to do. Which isn’t always true, you can also get some free ones. Like this one I have listed below, I could have gotten a review for free, but it takes longer so I paid for an expedited one. I figured I’d see what a professional thinks about my book and if it was going to be bad I probably would not be self promoting it. I’d move on to another profession, like decorating mason jars (I’m actually doing that too). Anyway, I’m so excited that I got this great review that now I’m not embarrassed to ask a local bookstore, Portkey Books, in Safety Harbor (which is next to Palm Harbor, which is where Finally Florida takes place) to carry the book. (phew, long sentence) And how cool would that be if they carry the book that took place where I (I mean Victoria) lived at the time. I would buy it there at Portkey. I do like an independent bookstore. In Sewickley I buy at Penguin Bookstore. (I haven’t asked them to sell my book yet. Just haven’t gotten there.) I am a supporter of independent bookstores. The problem is, though, when you want a book you just get it where you can get it. Now, if I lived IN Sewickley, or if I was doing some afternoon lunch and shopping there, I would definitely buy a book in the Penguin, but if I’m sitting in my apartment and I have to have a book, well I’ll buy on Amazon which apparently independent bookstores hate. I mean who knew? I have so much to learn. I also went in Barnes and Noble last week and bought some books in there. They’re a big store. Is that a bad thing? I say not. I love a bookstore. Big or small. And now I have at least 5 books by my bed that I need to read. Literally 5 books. Usually I only have one or two backed up. But I’ve gone on a shopping spree. Also, I’ve discovered this stupid game on my IPAD and it’s keeping me up at night and keeping me from reading those books that I need to read. I am rambling aren’t I? I feel like myself again. 🙂
Okay so other than the book business consuming me, I had a girls weekend with Ellen and Jennifer in DC. Last year we were at Ellen’s beautiful mini-farm (farmette?) This year Jennifer’s in Bethesda and guess who should host next year? I’ve already called my brother in Palm Springs and said I thought maybe I could host at HIS house. He didn’t say no. Otherwise I have an L-shaped couch in Pittsburgh. One person could sleep left, the other sleep right, and one in the bed. We had alot of fun site seeing and even remembered our alma mater which we sang together, in key, at Jennifer’s neighborhood party. We weren’t even embarrassed about that (joined by fellow classmate Lucy.) The Cherry Blossoms were stunning. Here we are:
After the girl time I drove to Virginia to visit my mom’s house, you know the one I lived at in the woods, the beautiful house that we sold. It was emotional. The last time I was there was when I was moving back from Florida to Pittsburgh and I stopped there with my Penske truck. At that time, I ran into the then almost empty house and loaded up the kitchen table to bring up to my sisters since I was there with a moving truck. I made a cup of tea, with the pan still there, and sat on the porch. That was the last day anyone of us Monahans were there. I can not explain how heart wrenching it is to not still have that house in our family.
First, when I got to the area I went and visited my grandparents graves. They look good, although next time I’ll take a rake and rake the leaves out. They are buried behind the Salem Baptist Church that one of my relatives (Uncle Abner, I believe) founded. My grandfather was in the choir there. My aunt played the organ. As kids we went to that church every Sunday, when we were visiting there, and we were related to everyone. NOW, the church is still there and it is an Arabic Baptist church. I can’t even wrap my head around that. In Goochland County, Virginia, very backwoods (very affluent county but like in the middle of nowhere) and there is an Arabic Baptist church. There is also an arabic man buried in the cemetery. The cemetery is only about 30 graves, mostly all relatives, and now this newest member. I am proud of the county but also just like amazed.
After the graves I went to the house. The new owner, Scott (not to be confused with my brother Scott), was out of town, but his mom was there to greet me. I was crying as I pulled in and as I got out of the car she said, first words out of her mouth, “are you crying” – and I couldn’t answer because I was indeed crying. So she gave me a big hug and I bawled to this stranger, in a big bear hug, who now lives in my house (well she doesn’t live there, but close enough). It was surreal, the whole thing. From the Arabic Baptist church to these strangers living in our house. It was hard to process. BUT, I will say that after my initial crying jag I smiled the entire time. She was/is so lovely, showed me every inch of that house. It’s all new furniture (except they do have a couple pieces of ours we left there that they saved!) but it still looks like the house. He has a dog and a cat and to me the animals are welcome additions. I haven’t met the owner but he is such a nice person that if I was 20 years younger I would try and marry him. He is so kind, and he loves the house. He’s made paths all through the woods that we walked on, but didn’t go too far into the woods because there is a bear. I think there’s always been a bear there but my blind mother never saw the bear so I think they just co-existed nicely, as they were not a threat to each other. Well, anyway, it was a wonderful visit. I also visited a neighbor (who claims to be reading my book!) and then spent the night at our friend Norie’s. Norie has been my mom’s friends since the early 1950’s. My dad and Norie’s husband were roommates at some point. That’s how long my mom and Norie have been friends. Isn’t that something? about 70 years. Here’s a story about Norie’s home where she gives tours and lectures on moss gardening: Eden Woods
I forgot how beautiful the Richmond area is. And I was so happy to be reminded of it again. I was also reminded of my friend Lori, who I was close with while I lived there with my mom. Lori died shortly after I moved away from Richmond (from cancer.) I pulled up to a store only to remember the last time I was at this particular store was with Lori and teared up again. There were alot of tears this weekend.
In the end though, through all the tears, it was such a wonderful visit. I’m elated that the person who bought “our” home loves it so much and so open to our visits. I sat on the porch all afternoon with his mom. I didn’t have to clean any windows or screens, or set mousetraps, or make dinner, or do any work. I just sat there and enjoyed the beautiful weather and the trees that I have literally grown up with my entire life. I felt rejuvenated afterwards. I felt like I was “home” – I felt like I could leave there and come back “home” to Pittsburgh and I can go back there again when ever I want. I feel like “home” is a very big thing in my life. Always trying to figure out where that is.
This has turned out to be a long blog. Just like the old days. Just like when I would report on what I’m doing in Finally Florida. I mean just like that, isn’t it? Although really there is so much more that I didn’t touch on. But maybe that will be something for me to blog about later. I really should be doing this more often. I could blog about my jars, my day as an extra (although I can’t talk about that yet), next week I’m going to work at the Pirate games, I mean lots of goings on. And I think I sold 20 books this month. Now if only we can get that up to 2000 or more a month, I’ll be able to pay my rent!
