For Ladies Who Hate Carrying Handbags

Carrying a handbag means to me carrying the proverbial "kitchen sink," so I try not to take anything more than a few dollars, one credit card, and keys tucked in my pockets, unless I am to be gone for a length of time and need the hundred of items I stash in a purse.

A few weeks ago I should have taken my handbag. Needing to be at doctor's office for an epidural, I had insisted that R not accompany me since he wasn't feeling well. Meaning to be a help, he accompanied me. After an hour's wait R began having difficulty breathing. I told him to go to the car, wait for me to get cleared about my leaving the office for a few minutes to pick up my cellphone I left behind. R was going on to his own doctor for a check up. I informed the clerk, who said I had to wait and clear with the nurse, who then said she had to clear with the doctor--was I up next after an hour of waiting?? I ran out to the car anyway, to discover R had left me--almost naked. Despair filled my body. I had no purse (why, with hubby along?) and my cell phone had gone with him. A Hummer sat in our parking space. I returned to the office and told the clerk I was back but would have to cancel. She insisted I had to wait for the nurse to whom I explained I had to call my sister to come pick me up. Nurse said she had to consult the doctor.

After 10 minutes I told the clerk I was leaving, she said for me to wait for the nurse and before I could sit down the nurse came in and said I had to have someone in the office NOW. I explained my situation, asked if I could take the injection without a sedative to avoid waiting for my sister to come, she said wait, she'd talk to the doctor. While sitting there I tried to figure out my next move to get to hubby's doctor. Nurse returned saying doctor wouldn't okay my being there alone and would prefer that I take the sedative. Meaning I needed someone present in the waiting room throughout the procedure. I then said I would
cancel, the nurse said to wait until she consulted the doctor. Another five minutes passed and she finally came out and said doctor thought I should not take injection but take care of husband. Then I realized I knew only one phone number and that friend was out of town. I didn't know my sister's cell phone number, nor any other person's cell number. Most friends were not in town. Not living in a city with public transportation, I couldn't think of a way to get to hubby's doctor's office unless I walked the 10 miles...until I thought of a taxi.

In the meantime, R found my cell phone and had a clerk figure out how to use it to call my sister to come. He told her I was at one place when I was at another (did someone say men can't remember important info?). She looked for an hour at a hospital trying to find my doctor, whose name was R's doctor (he was too sick to understand her questioning). I called R's doctor to ask the clerk to get $5 from R for my taxi (I hadn't ridden in a local taxi in 30 years)that I was coming to where R was and not to leave me.

The taxi cost $ll.80, thankfully, R had no change other than twenties. We made contact and my sister and I laughed at the turmoil that happened on that Monday. I learned a valuable lesson: If I don't carry a handbag, for heaven's sake, CARRY THE CELLPHONE!!!

Checking the Fridge

Since R has become aware of food labels, he checks frequently the pantry and the fridges,discarding dried or moldy food and foodstuff with expired dates. Left to my decision I'll allow foods to hobble along as long as 12 months. This crazy man now checks my fridge weekly to determine what should be discarded. I know after all these years he understands that cleaning our fridges is not my favorite hobby. I push items I think we need to keep just a bit longer hidden on the back shelves. Discarding left overs is a difficult task for me. Makes me feel I am not a decent cook who is careful about leftovers. It's OK that I know that fact, but R's knowledge is too much for me. However, prior to leaving for summer vacation, I cleaned our two fridges until it was near-empty and gleamingly clean.

However...after two months we return and voila! a bowl with food dried to the bottom. The artistic me saw a beautiful painting. Practical husband saw something differently. At least his vocal exclamation rattled my senses as to how astute he has become in recognizing fresh food. If the picture above reminds you of the heavy brush strokes full of intense colors, then you understand why I had to take the photo. I'm thinking of framing this one.

Two Months Recap of NY Visit

I have to state that our stay in the woods of the Lower Catskills was rather uneventful this year. First, we left too late to really enjoy our time there, second, we had to break up the weeks to include a trip to Maine for 10 days, and third, I insisted that what family was around had to follow me on cemetery trips. The latter were usually one day trips, but terribly boring for everyone except me.

Before leaving for NY I had stumbled upon the Newkirk ancestors as having been residents of Ulster Co, Montgomery Co and Orange Co, NY. We traveled to Kingston, Marbletown, Old Hurley, and Middletown to view tombstones of folks gone by. I was the only excited one, because I finally have reached that point in life in which I appreciate history. Snapping photos of headstones that were barely legible as well as those illegible and the buildings that formed the early Dutch Reformed Church were totally worthwhile. Armed with shaving cream and paper towels, we were ready to wet down the old concrete stones to discover who was buried beneath. However, one cemetery anticipated the move of "bounty" hunters and forbade such "defacing." so we ended up with standing this way and that way to pick out with the naked eye some recognition of the letters of the last name.

Most of the remainder of the trip was enjoying the beautiful water around Georgetown Maine, visiting with friends and new relations, and packing for the trip home.

I'm getting too old to pack and unpack. Maybe that's why I had a birthday recently and added a year--to remind me I just can't go at the pace of a youngster.

Watching Fall Dance

Here in New York, a hike upwards from the Delaware River in the hamlet of Yulan, so named by the Chinese laborers who lived in the area during logging days, the beginning of fall is beautiful. One tree which we can see from our deck is already putting on new leaves. The ferns,so abundant in this area, are still green. Even they have a beauty about their browns when the green fades. Ferns in these parts are the perennials that border property, dress up bare spots, and proudly stand along the rustic road leading to our sheds.

Temperatures plunged (I write this because as a Southerner we don't get temps like this so early) to 40's several times last week and we declared "It's time to go home" and then the days following the temps were upper 50's nights, so we said, "Let's stay awhile longer." Those cold nights must have ushered in the right medicine for the leaves to change.

As time nears for us to return to the South, we suddenly feel we've not made enough contacts with friends, haven't taken enough out-of-town trips, haven't enjoyed the outdoors enough. It takes us weeks to relax together before wanting to connect with others...then suddenly time has run out.

I have new projects in mind, now that I feel invigorated,so I don't face fall and winter reading. I've read enough books here to last for the remainder of the year. I need action of a different nautre. Ahh, life in these mountains do relax us and gives us incentive to examine our blessings more frequently.

Behind the Obituary

I'm a fan of obituaries. It is the first page I read every morning. At my age I'm interested in knowing who in my realm of friendship has passed on. But even those whom I don't know, I read to discover what a fine contributor to our life the person has been. Whether a man was a farmer who worked hard (a seemingly less appreciated trait), served on the town's board, loved kids, kept a garden or a woman whose life was devoted to others' welfare--these were important to their families and to our life.

When R and I started our life after college in Jackson, we met a young childless couple as we who attended our church. Within a few years children came: two boys and a girl for us, two girls and a boy for them. Ironically, our daughter J and their second daughter S were born on the same date of the same year: August 28, 1963. Although not close during school years because we had moved further north while they continued to live in Jackson, we remained friends to celebrate special dates. New Year's Eve was a gathering for over 15 years until S married and J moved west.

Life rocked on beautifully. J traveled, living in different parts of the U. S, while S and her husband settled down and had two children and a thriving business. S and J met together in January at our oldest son's wedding to find time to chat as they did as youths. Reconnection.

A few weeks ago S's life was shattered by the loss of her well-respected husband in a headline-making situation that no one could have foreseen. This couple, who gave so much of their time to helping others, gaining a wealth of friendships in their years of marriage, and having been blessed as a family, were kind, active in their small church, loving to their families. The shots that rang out that day in the front yard of this couple took two lives and injured another. S survived with wounds in her arm, cheek, and chest. A terrible forever reminder of a tragedy that should never have happened.

No obituary can say how genuinely good T was, how seriously he took his role as father and husband, how he helped his neighbors, especially those older, and did what any young man could to better his neighborhood, his community, his church. His passion was flying and at one time had been an instructor. He is one of those young men who would have made his part of the world a better place to live. And now he is now gone. His community and we friends mourn his loss.

We are left to wonder why.

Todd Randolph died three weeks before his wife's 46th birthday. May you rest in peace, Todd!

Enjoying Maine

As a landlubber who doesn't go near water any further than the swimming pool for aerobic exercise, R and I have spent ten days on the shores of salt water on the Georgetown island in Maine. Our son-in-law emphasized that what I call peninsulas are really islands in this area. If you were to stretch out the Maine coastline it would be longer than the entire Atlantic coast. These shorelines are jagged and each piece holds mystery, history, and lure for those who love to swim and boat and revel in storytelling. I've been a landlubber too long to find the excitement others do. That doesn't mean I haven't enjoyed my stay. Watching the tide go in and out, seeing stillness of the water on hour and movement the next enchants me because it's so new.

Daughter J recently married a Mainer. He doesn't speak like one, but his lifestyle is such that being around him and his family who have enjoyed summer cottage life involving swimming all day at favorite swimming holes, enjoying boating and fishing outside their cottage door and ending with big suppers nightly during their growing-up years speaks for a well-rounded individual who is sharing this same life with J.

We'll never get to explore the whole coastline of this magnificent state, but we'll discover enough to want to continue revisiting each summer.

Return To The Hills

We're ba-cccck! Back in the hills and behaving like pioneers, almost. No utilities. Using a cooler for a fridge, going to the mountain stream for water, going to sleep nights when Mother Nature turns off the lights at 8:30, and waking up 12 hours later, something we'd never do at home!

Despite the fact that we left home with searing, humid heat,we came into the mountains that has seen fewer days of sunshine this summer than ever before. Rain, rain, and more rain. The sunny days find us constantly on our new deck, another thing we can't do at home. Being cooped up in a 12' x 12' building we call a shed, but fancily we say cabin, during the constant rain isn't our idea of a vacation. But, hey, we sleep under a down comforter nights, and we don't have to pay utility bills for two or three months. There's some equalizing to all of this.

We aren't pioneers because we don't plant a garden, build our fire for cooking, use the same clothes constantly, or sit by a fire nights mending our socks. But we feel like pioneers because our way of life here in the lower Catskills is a dramatic change from our usual life in town. We love it and hate to grow too old to return.

City LIfe

The noises are muted. It's 9 p.m. and I hear outside the sounds of an occasional city bus, cars passing, an occasional taxi taking off.This isn't New York City, it's Brooklyn--across the river. In all the years we've visited this part of the world, away from Mississippi, I've never been anywhere but Manhattan. Only through movies have I heard of Brooklyn. Now I've crossed over the Manhattan Bridge for the first time into a city of interest.

Without our adult kids moving around, probably R and I would never have seen the inner workings of Boston, Cambridge, Portland OR, Portland ME, Salt Lake City, Bluff, UT (town of 58)or Barryville and Yulan NY. These are places they've lived and worked and we've had the privilege of visiting. We tried to influence one of ours to not remain in Mississippi, but choose Paris France, his and our fav place to visit, but J is a homebody and has been the chief caretaker of his parents. We'll have to visit Paris again without his invitation.

We'll stay in Brooklyn another few days and then to Yulan where we'll prepare to live "off the grid" for the next few months. Our advancing age keeps us wondering during the winter if we can continue to live this way summers. But once there we are there we are estatic, rather like a kid at Disney World (almost).Yes, that is hard for material girls and boys, but our summer life is invigorating, mind settling, nerve soothing.

Until then we are enjoying our Brooklyn stay, watching the dog walkers, using the sidewalks which we don't have (and miss)at home and visiting the unusual grocery stores and shops.