Winter Reading

There have been two books sitting on my bookshelf for years begging to be read. I'm not sure how books can generate guilt but these two have piled it on until I finally committed to read both of them during my two winter months away from home. As I packed them up an immediate sense of relief swept over me. Finally I was doing SOMETHING to get these off my literary To Do list.

Part of the delay in picking these up off my bookshelf is just that. I have to pick. them. up. I have been reading digital books for so long that to physically turn a page seems foreign to me. The other drawback is that my reading time is usually the last hour before I fall asleep in bed and so far no one has figured out how to backlight physical books so I don't have to have the bedside table light on. Yes, there are lights to attach to books but to me they are cumbersome and don't hit the right reading spot. On top of that the "Ladies" book is so heavy I'll develop muscle cramps just propping it on a pillow. Definitely drawbacks, but I was determined to resist downloading them both.

A House for Mr. Biswas by V.S. Naipaul, an author from Trinidad, and awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature, .  The book was a gift in 2008 from my lovely future DIL. She and my son were to be married in Tobago, a sister island of Trinidad and she thought this book would give me insight into the island culture. Despite the book making the trip to Tobago with me, I didn't crack the spine. I did have a lovely time in Tobago though. No reason to read about it, I'd experienced it.

But the book kept calling my name. I would see authors in the NY Times book review section mention it as a perfectly prosed book, a wonderful story, an inspiration to their writing endeavors. So I read it. It was dense and somewhat funny with great characters but I can honestly say I didn't enjoy it that much. On the flip side I have found myself mulling over the storyline ever since I finished it so maybe I liked it more than I thought. My biggest take away however was when I looked up reading guides online for Mr Biswas and found there was a musical play written in the 1950's based on the book. It never made it to the stage but the theme song from the musical was re-engineered and became the James Bond theme song. And my son has always been a big James Bond fan. So there you go.

The second book .....and Ladies of the Club is going to take some time.  I have started this book before and quickly realized I was going to need a storyline chart to keep track of all the characters. I found a sheet tucked in the pages with twelve characters names and brief descriptions of each I had started. That was great except I think the furtherest I read was page five. At a hefty (it weighs five pounds) one thousand one hundred and seventy six pages I am going to need several more tablet sheets to keep track of a lot more characters.

The other thing I'm going to need is some actual winter weather. Winter reading typically means sitting in front of the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket, and watching snow falling outside. On second thought, stepping out on a balcony and settling into a lounge chair makes for some nice tropical winter reading.

Fighting Zombies

I've never been a fan of horror movies -  "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" anyone? - or TV themed shows of walking dead people but these monsters provide a wealth of entertainment when it comes to spending time with the three year old grandson, The Wee One . We didn't invent these characters for him to fight and defeat. I believe the influence of schoolmates is involved since playground games occasionally include the little guys walking around with their arms extended in front mummy style and the rest screaming and running to get away. I guess this is Cowboys and Indians updated to a current theme. Or maybe a more sinister game of Tag.

Securing the condominium hallway version involves hiding at the entrance to the tunnel of doom until The Wee One "sees" Zombies, points out their location, then grandpa charges into the fray throwing spider-like webs from the tips of his hands and using finger pistols to fight them off. The epic conflicts sometimes involve injuries (faked) to arms and legs that need the immediate ministrations of their fighting comrade. A miraculous recovery is made and they are back to their battle stations. Occasionally a balance ball is called into action so it can take the zombies out bowling ball style. More often than not there is a quick retreat back down the hallway accompanied by the shrillest screams you have ever heard. Hopefully the Zombies (and the neighbors) wear earplugs. I'm not sure who ends up out of breath sooner, the younger one who forgot to wear his pants to the battlefront or the, er, older one who feigns "taking a hit" in order to spend time sprawled prone on the floor.

Eventually the Zombies are cleared out or there is a diversion provided by Grandma ("Does a snack sound good about now?') and The Wee One is content to color, put together puzzles, or play with action figures from any number of popular children's films. Grandpa is allowed to recover.

But the Zombies will be back. They always are.

Not Dandy

Babies are a wonderful thing to anticipate. Months, weeks, days and finally hours to prepare for them and somehow their arrival is still a bit of surprise. Who is this lovely creature you will be meeting? What will he be called?

My son and his wife are champions at keeping their chosen names a secret until after the little one has arrived. The name they chose for their firstborn was Nolan Christopher, which came totally out of the blue for us grandparents. It's not a family name, or a name that came up in conversations of suggestions (a conciliatory ploy I think, but fun to participate in even so). It's turned out to be a wonderful name for an energetic soon-to-be four year old.

We knew their second born would be a boy from months ago. The question was how do we refer to him until he arrives? His big brother has always been referred to as The Wee One, does that make this one Wee Two? Or, should we provide him with a longshot name that will work in the interim? Could we go with Heathcliff,  Jorge, Sebastian, or Wolfgang knowing we wouldn't become too attached and whatever they chose would be a relief? (No offense to all those carrying those names, by the way.) Nothing seemed to set with everyone so we went with Dandy since his last name also started with a D. Dandy D------. Yes, it was a good working title for a work in progress. Until yesterday.

Yesterday, this little guy arrived. All 8lbs, 9ozs of him.  His name is Ethan Miles. Again, a name from out of the blue but now a new favorite.

He is a dandy of a boy, but no longer Dandy.

Map to Crazy

Continuing this driving thing for just a minute.....

Living in the Midwest is nice from a driving around town perspective. You can jump in your car and it takes five minutes to reach most everywhere, streets are laid out in the grid system, and you aren't accosted at every intersection by aggressive drivers who use stop signs as a suggestion, not a law. Living in a smallish Midwestern town means congestion involves sitting in traffic an extra ten minutes while a college basketball games lets out. Not a big deal. Here in the South, close to Miami, it's a whole other ballgame.

The map to the right is a typical traffic day around our temporary winter residence. Red lines, yellow lines, and red dots. The red dots are the worst. Cars standing still for blocks. Basically a two-car wide, several mile long parking lot. As in I have witnessed people getting out of their cars and running items back to cars behind them. I have to assume these are people they know and it involves giving them food to sustain them through their errands. Woe to the driver who decides to veer out of the traffic flow and through a drive-thru. And heaven forbid you have a medical emergency.

Mr Y, and I are learning lessons daily about when to go out, where to go, and taking our patience temperature before heading out. The evening we decided to travel seven miles to a large department store at five in the evening (I know, does the term "rush hour" mean nothing?) and it took us 2 HOURS to get there is also when we decided we either need to pack snacks or go at five in the morning and sleep in the parking lot before opening time. I have witnessed multiple "J" turns in the middle of traffic downtown, an elderly driver with a NY license plate gently sideswipe a landscaping pickup (and neither one stopped to access damage!), and more people ignoring "Don't Block the Intersection" signs than I can count. Two drivers have risked oncoming traffic to pass a line of cars, get to the front of that two lane traffic and then make a right turn across those lanes. It is mind boggling.

Fortunately we are staying in a building where we can walk to the grocery store, take a trolley to downtown, get to a hospital straight up the street if need be, and quickly navigate back streets to the home of the grand baby and his family. Otherwise you would find me sitting in an apartment watching the traffic whiz, and I do mean whiz, by for two months and that would certainly be a......

Map to crazy!

The Driver and The Passenger

A few weeks ago Mr. Y. and I started a car journey to Florida. The 1,500 mile trip was planned as a five day, four night slow motion meander as opposed to our normal "hair on fire shoot us out of a cannon and hope we land close to our destination" adventure. This trip was meant to be enjoyed.

As I was driving out of our Kansas driveway......oops, stop right there.  I am rarely (never) in the drivers seat on these marathon drives. I am a good driver, an attentive driver, even a cautious driver but I am not The Driver. I am The Passenger. And there is a big distinction in these positions.

I, as The Passenger, am the one who handles a variety of tasks from the right hand seat with the most important being navigation. Despite having a built in system in our car I like to use the iPad. It lets me input destinations while the car is moving unlike the car navigation which requires the car to be in Park. I can increase and decrease the size of my maps with the flick of my fingers, look ahead for traffic congestion, and easily estimate the miles left to go and our arrival time. I like knowing where we are at all times and sharing that information with The Driver. He drives us safely to the destination, I direct us to the right destination.

As for the other tasks, well, they are endless. The car has to be organized. The purse, snack bag, and entertainment tote within easy reach behind The Driver's seat. Pencils and pens can be grabbed, aspirin dispensed, magazines and newspapers read out loud, beef jerky (not mine, The Driver's) handed out, kleenex provided, and chocolate shared (mine, reluctantly) at a moments notice. I also deliver trip narration by looking up interesting tidbits along our route and sharing them, take pictures of bridges and landscape, critique the driving conditions and other drivers, and occasionally inhale sharply when a semi decides to use our lane while we are still in it. Should reading texts and e-mails become necessary interpretive readings are given. I give nice shoulder rubs, refresh water mugs, exchange The Driver's sunglasses for regular glasses, and manage the radio, audio book, and climate controls. It's my job to keep The Driver awake, alert, entertained and on point. 

The day we left for our trip I was driving because Mr. Y had some business phone calls to take and make. Normally he would do this while driving, using earbuds to keep his hands free, but since these particular calls were more complex in nature I agreed to switch seats. And that worked well until it didn't.

Once the business calls were completed, somewhere around Mile 350, the passenger side of the car became very, very quiet. Sleep quiet. Nap quiet. Nowhere in The Passenger duty description does napping come up. As Mr Y. dozed I drove on down the highway in the stillness knowing that once he was rested Mr. Y would once again assume the driving duties and I would be the passenger. An enjoyable journey was only a few more mile markers away.

Christmas Decor. Or Not.

We are well into 2016 and I am still processing how poorly I handled the decor part of our 2015 Christmas.  The celebration took place but I am still a little bothered by how unenthusiastic I was leading up to the merry part of the season.

Maybe it was observing and helping my sister prepare to be a part of our small hometown Christmas home tour that started my jolly holly ball rolling downhill.  Her garlands and boughs and Santa's and nativity sets and wreaths and trees and more trees and candles and (.....well, you get the picture) had to be placed well in advance of the tour that took place on December 5th. That meant we observed Thanksgiving at her house sitting under an upside down Christmas tree suspended over the dining room table (who DOES that!?) and being thankful we would not be around for the un-decorating in January.

When I returned home I briefly considered not decorating for Christmas. I came up with several good reasons to justify it. It's just the two of us, we don't really entertain, there's no good place for a tree, two of the three kids wouldn't even be here, we will be leaving for Florida in early January, the decorations I don't drag out of the garage I don't have to drag back into the garage. I was prepared to go minimal. Very minimal. Basically a poinsettia. Then a decision was made for part of my extended family to celebrate Christmas at our house. Namely my sister's family. Yes, the same sister of the extravagantly decorated Christmas tour house. Logistics dictated our home would be the better one for this year's celebration than the one screaming 'Tis the Season!

So, the shelf decorations came out of the garage, shrubs right outside doors and windows were lit up so that if you didn't look too closely you might think they were inside, three beautiful, fresh wreaths were purchased on Christmas Eve (they were running a procrastinator's special - $1.50 each!), and a poinsettia rounded out the decor. My sister assured me I didn't need to run out and purchase a tree since we were doing this so last minute. All was well. Until you want the picture perfect place to put gifts. Like under a lovely, decorated Christmas tree.

That explains the picture. While Mr. Y and I were in his home office celebrating Christmas with one son's family in a wireless way (thank goodness for Facetime), my sister and her family were plugging in my floor lamp and quickly pulling together beads and a topper to create a Christmas tree their way. It had a light, plenty of space underneath for packages, and with presents thrown around the base.......well, it still wasn't Pinterest worthy but it sufficed. (I recreated the gifts since no one bothered to take a picture at the time - it actually looked much better.)

This year I will rethink the Christmas decor. Obviously more effort needs to be made. I'm posting this to remind myself in eleven months to get a green light bulb for that floor lamp, and some tinsel to wrap on the pole, and for goodness sake it sure could use a tree skirt!

The Year of Recovery

Wow! That was some head cold. You take a little night time cold medicine in 2014 and wake up in 2016. What happened to 2015? Was it a year to just skip?  Maybe. Maybe not.

Leading up to the beginning of 2015 Mr Y. and I had decided to designate it as the Year of Recovery. The idea was we would use 2015 to recover from a couple of years of fast living in New York City, re-establish ourselves back into our smaller midwestern town, and get an idea of how we wanted the post retirement years to play out. Life has a way of throwing in an very different definition of a year of recovery.

It turned out our Year of Recovery would be from a variety of life events we could never have anticipated or dreamed up had we wished to. I eventually recovered from a couple of raging head colds in early 2015. Mr Y. started an amazing recovery from an April heart attack right after a quick stent was placed. Needless to say, the rest of the ailments were secondary. But every day we can tell our bodies are succumbing to the aging process. Some of them we can recover from, some we will deal with on an ongoing basis. By that definition every year from here on out is going to be a Year of Recovery.

We happily recovered from the shock of learning in August that we will be second time grandparents in February. We recovered from jet lag after a lovely trip to the Alaska home of a classmate this summer. The kinks in my back worked themselves out after moving a parent from her residence of 57 years to a spiffy apartment, even though the recovery took a couple of weeks longer than it would have even a couple of years ago. We recovered from the sticker shock of how much it would take to have someone else do a little landscaping for us, but that was probably nothing compared to the chiropractor bills had we elected to do it ourselves. We did end up recovering and re-establishing friendships that had been on a two year hiatus and we are working out a post retirement lifestyle that suits us.

We haven't decided a theme for the year 2016. After last year it seems like tempting fate to try and control what the year might be like. Whatever the year brings we will work on having healthy hearts, happy hearts, grateful hearts, and peaceful hearts.

Maybe we will just call it The Year of Unanticipated Happenings.