POINT. COUNTERPOINT.

How did my life become one of living on a point system?  Earning and spending points has become insidious and obsessive for many.  I am afraid I'm one....

When I shop at a Kroger-owned grocery outlet (there are three locally -- Safeway, Fred Meyer, QFC), I earn gas points to be used at the FM or Safeway gas stations for a discount.  So, of course, those are the stores I most frequent for incidental groceries.  Gas is expensive; discounts help.

For most of our groceries and almost everything else, we shop at Costco.  Hub is a dedicated and joyful Costco shopper.  He goes weekly, preferring "Sample Days" where he darts to each sample station like a starving man in a desert.  It's disconcerting to be with him.  I stand by the cart and check my FB "feed" during his different sort of feeding frenzy.  Costco has a points system of sorts in their partnership with a Citibank Costco credit card which nets a percentage return at the end of the year on annual dollars spent. For us, it's a tidy sum.

Airline miles are also a points program, basically, in that you accumulate miles to spend on a "free" ticket based on miles accumulated in air travel with the various airlines.  We are mostly Alaska flyers, because we like them and because we want our mileage program to accumulate, plus we get that  once a year companion fare thing which gets us to Hawaii each spring for almost 2-for-1 airfare.

Recently we cashed in some miles for an unexpected trip coming up in August.  Hub didn't have quite enough for his fare, so I transferred some of my miles to his account.  It cost $10 per 1000 miles in "transfer fees" which I found ridiculous since I was doing all the work myself, with the transfer happening instantaneously as I completed the transaction.  I guess Alaska has to maintain the software to make this happen, but I gotta think $10/1000 is a hefty premium!  Oh well...such is the system.

Also, we own a week of timeshare in addition to travel points to anywhere we want to go!  We can cash in our week for points and stay longer than a week in Hawaii, or hoard them for awhile and use them later for other destinations.  Recently we discovered we'd kept a stash of points so long they were about to expire, so we quickly planned a stay in Hilton Head -- using our airline miles and our vacation points in combination!  WOW!  Point goals!

My Fitbit is linked to my Medicare Advantage Wellness program and I can earn points toward merchandise or gift cards, from meager ($25 GC) to great (i-Pad!) depending on how many points I've accumulated for exercise and wellness activities (preventative care medical visits) over the year.  I use it all for Amazon Gift Cards!

And of course there's Starbucks.  You accumulate points in the form of "stars".  How many times have I been taken in by my 'double star day'; 'buy three items by Friday to get 50 bonus stars!'; 'play monolopy!' (I draw the line there; I don't even like the board game.)  I've been enticed to buy a lot of coffee to get the occasional free drink which I generally allow Hub to choose for himself because of course I'll get a Venti of whatever is most expensive as my freebie, but I can't drink that much by myself.  I am a little annoyed that Starbucks used to give me anything on the menu for my accumulated 150 stars or whatever, but now they have tiered their points so that you have to earn even more for my favorite Starbucks salad.  I don't have that kind of patience.

The current point program I am most intimate with is Weight Watchers.  I track semi-religiously into the app every food I eat and it adds up my daily and weekly points, with some magic math to take my "activity" efforts into consideration.  It's an easy and doable program and I've lost weight on it, so I like it.  It keeps me semi-honest.  (I might 'forget' to log that extra bowl of popcorn...)

But last week my points programs collided.  Starbucks encouraged my purchase of a Tazo Tea and bakery item to get me a whopping bonus 75 points!  How could I resist?  Plus, how many WW points could that possibly be?  Not that many, right?  I got a Grande Chai Tea latte and a chocolate chip cookie.  Yum!  And I got my bonus points!  But when I logged that little treat later it added up to a whopping 27 WW points, 4 points over my entire daily allotment.  That did not go well; no "blue dot day" for me. (They reward you a little colored-in blue dot on days you stay within your point total.)

When did our lives become a sticker chart of points for good behavior?  Or for retail indulgences?  It's all very math-y for me and I get confused and the points start to duel with each other and I'm left realizing all these points programs are simply a way of controlling behavior and rewarding us for doing what they want.  Like toilet training a toddler -- eventually we learn the behavior even if there is no immediate reward.  Beware, if all point programs disappear and your behavior remains the same, you'll know you are thoroughly trained!

At least, that's the view from here...©

SHOPPING FOR FIGS

All was calm, all was bright....until today.   Readers know I have teeny, tiny stress and Scrooge issues around the holiday season.  I always participate, often grudgingly, in all the traditional hoo-hah.  But I mostly just keep December 26th in view, ready for the checkered flag.

But this year, I've been...dare I say it?  Relaxed!  Happy!  Not stressed or resentful or overwhelmed or exhausted.  It's all seemed pretty easy-breezy.  As I said in a previous post, I've cut way back on many of the usual activities of the season and that likely helped.  So yay me!

But today.  Today I tackled the grocery shopping chore of the season.  We do a Christmas Eve Buffet and a Christmas Dinner for the family.  It's usually the same food every year and I'm frankly sick of it, so I decided last year that this year would be different.  I got on Pinterest and found some really cute and easy "finger food" ideas for the buffet, including a dessert that features figs!  Figs!  Just like the song!  Cool, huh?   We are having a different menu for Christmas dinner too.  I'm excited about both.

But it would be hard to overstate how much I HATE to grocery shop.  I mean I truly detest the whole ordeal.  Hub does 90% of our food shopping.  But he is working Monday thru Wednesday this week and we have our grand-girls with us Wednesday and Thursday too, so there was literally no time for him to hit Costco and the regular grocery store in time to have the ingredients here to prep.  So off I went this morning.

Costco was a madhouse by 10:30 a.m.  I drove around forever looking for a parking spot and finally got one a day's hike from the entrance.  Let me say something about shopping carts at this point.  I think we need to institute a cultural norm that when you exit your car and see carts in the parking lot cart coral, you grab one and push it into the store.  I did that this morning and was glad of it because people were literally milling around outside the entrance waiting for someone to bring the carts in from the parking lot and replenish the cart area.  Really?  JUST GO GET ONE!

But most people must not have been in much of a hurry because once inside the store, jammed with  shoppers pushing their Costco-giant-sized carts, one would think the ventilation system was pumping out sleeping potions.  Every single person seemed to move in slow motion in every aisle.  And "keeping right" seemed to be a pie-in-the-sky notion because people generally moved down the very center of the aisles, sometimes two and three abreast, literally coming to a dead stop at frequent intervals to check their lists, chat with an acquaintance, or abandon their cart altogether to head for ubiquitous food sample tables.  Please!  JUST PULL OVER!

I finally made it out of Costco and through the parking lot again where cars were at a standstill waiting for parking spaces to open up.  I should have taken bids on mine, in spite of its distance from the store -- I had three people jockeying for position as I pulled away.

I then had to go the "regular" store, also jammed.  As I headed in, I found myself in the crosswalk in front of the store where pedestrians ALWAYS have the right-of-way.  But as I crossed, a big blue Oldsmobile came bearing down on me.  I really and truly hate to say this because I am a proud and vocal anti-ageism proponent, but the woman driving appeared to be well over 80-85, could barely see over the steering wheel, and had absolutely no intention or thought that she should maybe be stopping for me, even though I WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER as she coasted (thankfully!) to within about a foot of my right leg.  I yelled, "JESUS!  STOP!" and jumped out of the way.  She just kept creeping along, foot never touching the brake, as I turned to watch her proceed at a snail's pace through the parking lot.  I am grateful she wasn't gunning it.  I'd have been a goner.

Here's a pet peeve:  grocery shopping is so inefficient.  I lift the items off the shelf and put them in my cart.  I push them around the store like some precious fragile cargo, then I stand in a long line, pick them up again and put them on the conveyor belt where someone else picks them up to scan, and yet another person picks them up to bag.  Then they are returned to me in my cart, where I wheel them gently to my car and pick them up again (at least now nestled together in bags) and put them in my car.  We drive home, where I pick the bags up yet again (!) and lug them into the house where they are plopped on the counter top and picked up AGAIN! to be put away.  By now I think we've developed such a meaningful and long-term relationship that it's no wonder I don't want to disturb them to pick them all up again to actually cook!  Ugh!  There must be some way to get that food from the store to my kitchen via quantum physics parallel universe convergence or something.  There's far too much touching and lugging.  And I don't even like to cook, so half the time my good intentions come to naught and the perishables perish before they are even put in the pot.

But that won't happen this week, because it's Christmas.  So bring me some figgy pudding...and bring it right here!

At least, that's the view from here....©

THE NEEDING SEASON

A FICTION BASED ON REALITY:

I'll be so glad when the holidays are over!  The whole thing exhausts me.  So much to do, never enough time.  I am so distracted I often run out on some errand without my coat!  Coats are such a bother anyway, trying to get my seatbelt fastened over all that bulk!  I guess I could grab a lighter weight jacket, or my rain coat.  Crazy how we need about five different weights of clothing in the Northwest!
     Shirley shuffled along Hewitt Avenue.  The air was turning cold, night was not far off and she heard a man on the corner talk about snow coming.  She pulled her sweater around her a little tighter.  She'd walked the entire length of Hewitt ten times that day.  Killing time.  Trying to keep warm…

I'm getting so frustrated with shopping this year!  Toys are getting so expensive!  I must have made 20 trips to Toys R Us.  Every time I spent more than intended, but oh well.  Christmas only comes once a year and I don't want to disappoint the kids on Christmas morning.  The bills won't come in for a few weeks anyway.  Thank God for plastic!
     Carmin waited in line outside Santa's House on the first shopping day.  It was 7:00 a.m. and the doors didn't open until 9:00, but she knew she needed to get there early to get anything decent.  The good stuff went fast.  Donated toys were often broken or worn.  She spent Christmas Eve washing a dirty set of plastic play dishes last year -- a partial set.  She hoped to find a nice doll for Grace this year, but she knew she'd just have to take what she could get…

Of course there's also all the last minute shopping.  You know, those gifts you didn't intend to get, but you got one from them so now you feel obligated and there's always a last minute party invitation that requires a hostess gift.  Well, that's what the season is for, right?  Generosity and good will toward all!  Just like the Hallmark cards say!  I also see so much I just can't resist for me too!  And decorations!  So many cute things to make the house sparkle.  Oh, I love Christmas -- so beautiful!
     The van was crowded.  They'd kept moving it, to avoid suspicion.  It was getting cold at night, too.  The social worker said all the shelters were full.  Christmas was coming, but they could hardly put up a tree in the van!  Bill had been out looking for work all day.  Cindy and the kids had gone to the park early that morning to play, sit, and wait.  Finally she saw the van coming.  Bill climbed out and handed her a sprig of holly.  He wasn't smiling.  She tied the holly to the antenna with a piece of string she'd found on the ground.  They watched the kids swing.  Maybe they'd come back here on Christmas morning.  There was a big tree in the park, all lit up.  There wouldn't be any presents, or much food, or a warm fire, but at least they were still together….

I tell you though, family is what Christmas is really about!  Even though they can sure be annoying!  I mean, Uncle Hal is so boring!  And if I have to eat one more of Aunt Helen's "amazing jello salads" I'll choke.  And couldn't we just NOT watch sports all day on the holidays?  Sometimes I wish I could just go off by myself.  Now that would really be a special holiday!
     Rosa sat in the dark, holding her baby, both of them crying.  How had this happened to her?  In Mexico she was a bank executive.  Here she was a fugitive.  She'd come to this country with her American husband, but after all the beatings at his hand she ran from him.  Now the immigration service was looking for her.  She was not legal; she'd be deported and her baby would go to her husband or into foster care.  She missed her family in Mexico City.  What would she do?  Her tears continued to fall…©


We think of Christmas as the season of giving, but the season of giving never ends so long as the season of needing goes on and on and on.  I originally wrote this piece in 1991, based on stories I'd known of through the social service agency where I worked.  It's been published a couple of times since then, and still, not so much has changed in 2014.

May our Christmas be filled with blessings we appreciate  and generosity that we remember to demonstrate all through the year.

At least, that's the view from here… ©

SCROOGE YOU, CHRISTMAS!

Oh, Christmas Season…you old foe.  I've largely given up the urge to run from adversity, having gained skill in "being with what is" and filling my emotional toolbox with a wide selection of just the right gadgets to get me through most anything, eventually.  But you….you….you still get to me.

One of my BFFs is jetting off to Kona this weekend for a month-long stay and I am still holding out hope she will kidnap me and make me go along.  And when I say "make me" I mean, my bag is packed.  But more likely I will be here for the duration of the Falalala-ing with December 26th circled in red on my calendar -- my favorite day of the time period from Thanksgiving to New Year's.  What some call a let-down, I call relief.

Relief from the traditions, expectations, "to-do" lists, socializing, shopping, wrapping, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, cooking, cleaning, last minute shopping, lists, lists, lists, socializing, socializing, socializing, socializing….

I hear your advice, so don't even bother.  You would be amazed at how little I do for the season compared to when my kids were young and I ran around like a friggin' Martha Stewart clone.  To look at how I do the season now, comparatively, you'd think I was comatose.  Still…

I don't think it is entirely my own doing that causes me to fall into a Christmas Season funk.  I think it's the whole craziness that has grown up around it and this culture of commercialism that has influenced even the ways in which we think we are rebelling against it all.  As if the pressure weren't great enough to create a meaningful, festive holiday I now am asked to "walk my talk" at an even brisker pace.

The pressure to "shop local" means no gifts or gift cards from stores my family loves.  (I must have been a terrible mom to raise children to adulthood who go the mall for clothing -- where's your sewing machine???  And buy their lumber at Lowe's -- grow your own!!!)  No bulk items from Costco that would make food and drink more affordable (even if I only buy organic, free trade, uncaged cheesecake?).   No new Christmas music downloaded from I Tunes (get out the old clarinet; make your own music!), No new books (and every single other thing I can imagine) from Amazon  (Fine…I'll write a book and impose it upon my unsuspecting loved ones).   It's just a different version of the quest for perfection.

So, yeah.  I'd like to be sitting on a beach about now and on Christmas morning,  papaya juice running down my chin, Mai Tai in hand, I'd raise my glass to shield the sun.  My BFF and her hub would then serenade me on their dual ukeleles plunking out a little "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas", as the waves kiss the shoreline.   Yep, that sounds about right.

At least, that's the view from here…. ©

POCKET RANT

What ever happened to pockets?  I just came from a little shopping expedition and I saw a cute cardigan that would have been super comfy and cuddly and warm for winter.  But I wanted it to have pockets. It didn't, so I passed it up.  Just like I pass up skirts, pants, and dresses of a certain casual style because they are pocketless.  Come on!  A little seam pocket (my fave) is easy and cheap to make!  I love pockets!  I love to stick my hands in pockets, to store my phone in pockets, to stash a tissue or a mint in pockets…what's the deal with NO pockets????

DO NOT make me take up sewing again!  You know it didn't always go so smoothly last time.  Sure, my mother was a professional seamstress and could make draperies, a woman's suit, a prom dress, and any sort of skirt, dress, slacks, top, and coat -- all with pockets! -- and upholster a set of furniture seemingly in all in a day's work.  I did not inherit that talent, nor the patience to pursue it.  And she's not here anymore to bail my project out of the dumpster. So WHY CAN'T STORE-BOUGHT CLOTHING INCLUDE POCKETS???

It should.

At least, that's the view from here… ©

ROCKIN' in my chair N' ROLLIN' my yarn ball

This is what it comes to, I guess.  I am 62.  Do the math.  I was in my 20's in the 70's -- the days of sex and drugs and rock n' roll.  I did some damage.  And OK, looking back, I could have been a wee bit more cautious.

In the intervening years, I did grow up, learned to be responsible and accountable, and loving of those other than myself.  I had a job, raised kids, took care of aging parents and nurtured a marriage.  Settled down, in other words.

Settled WAY down, as it turns out.

On Monday I decided to curtail the sweet tooth I'd indulged over the holidays and cut back on my mochas too.  I did great for 3 days.  But today I was out shopping mid-day for yarn to crochet a "throw" for an upcoming fundraiser at my church.    And I got hungry.  I should not leave the house on an empty stomach because I tend to get a little shaky when my blood sugar plummets.  So, what to do?

Well, you know what is on every corner, luring me like the Sirens in the Odyssey....that wily green-haired mermaid!  Walking through the door of Starbucks, my reusable cup in hand (save the earth!), I looked furtively about (as if anyone cared), feeling like I was walking into a crack house.  Ashamed.  Desperate.  Eager.

Here's what I ordered, my usual:  Tall, decaf, non-fat, no-whip, extra hot mocha.  Look at that!!!  There is absolutely nothing in that thing!  How could it be so wrong?!?  Right?  And I got the oatmeal cookie, because oatmeal is a health food.  So there!

But still, all the way out to the mall I felt guilty as I munched and sipped my indulgent lunch.  Oh, failure that I am!  Oh, weak-willed woman!

And as if that wasn't bad enough, I got to the check-out stand and discovered I'd forgotten my 1/2-off coupon!  Drats!!!  I actually thought of putting my yarn back, going home for the coupon and returning, which would have saved me a whopping $4.00!!!  (Um, about what I spent on the 'speed-free' coffee).  But I thought, no, it's OK.  The carbon footprint I would leave to make another trip probably is offset by the $4.00 overpayment....

Oh, it all gets so complicated!  Oh, for the carefree days of hip-hugger bellbottoms, the Doors, and a doobie!

And even more so when I re-read this post.  Let's find the key words of a changed woman:
"yarn", "crochet", "fundraiser", "church", "blood sugar", "decaf", "non-fat", "no whip", "oatmeal", "health food", "coupon", "Drats!" "carbon footprint".

I need a shot of tequila!                          

At least, that's the view from here....©

MAKIN' A LIST...

I guess the obvious theme of this month's posts will be "Christmas/Holidays".  Today's topic, Dear Readers, is my continuing attempt to create some modicum of magic...with lowered standards.

But here's the thing.  So far my decorating consists of a kitchen countertop covered with scraps of paper upon which I've started various lists:  gifts to buy, groceries to shop for and prep, guests to invite, cleaning to do,  RSVPs that need a response.... And there are duplicates, naturally, of lists I started and lost and re-wrote...

Without my lists, I would get nothing done.  But today I feel like the ONLY thing I am doing is writing more lists!  This is the point where my inner Scrooge is screaming, "IT'S NOT WORTH IT!"

Yesterday I had a long talk with Hub about this annual struggle of mine.  He pointed out that, while he didn't love being out in the rain and the wind stringing festive holiday lights on the bushes and house, he just kept visualizing how great it would look when he was done.  He said I get stuck in the "hassle-factor" processes of things and lose sight of the goal.

Bingo!  I've never been much of a goal-setter.  I react more often than act...at least in some places in my life.  I have a vague notion of an end result of some endeavor, fantasizing a soft focus magical feat of perfection, but to back up and  figure out how to make that happen, then do all the work required (some of it no fun!), and know it will NOT be perfect, I just conclude, "Not worth it!"

Writing this sort of stuns me.  I am known as a pretty organized and responsible person.  I take leadership in lots of things.  One might mistake me for being mature.  But what I wrote in the previous paragraph is anything but.  It's lazy, whiny, and damned immature, in my judgment ... and I am EXCELLENT at judging myself!

So, now I am making a list of all the events (goals) of the coming weeks:  Parties to host and to attend, dinner out with friends, family birthday party (mine!), Christmas Eve/Christmas Day family festivities, church services and emcee-ing a retirement program for our minister.  All of them are going to require planning, purchasing, organizing, and prepping in a myriad of ways.

But I will keep my eyes on the "prize" of being there, with family and friends, the work of it all behind me.   And once at my goal, I will be present with what is....not critiquing the imperfection of the end result, but appreciating the perfection of being blessed enough to have such an abundance of love and connection in my life.

Something to add to the Gratitude List.

At least, that's the view from here...©

CHRISTMAS FAIL

I am already thinking this post should probably be in my personal pity-party journal, rather than here to be endured by my readers.  But since this blog is about honesty and maybe validating the thoughts and feelings of others, here goes:

I am a failure at Christmas.  Take this morning.  Hub headed up to the mountain for a day of snowboarding.  I pretended I was going to clean the house. (He should have seen through that).  But, no!  Sneaky girl that I am, I saw it as a day to go out there and do some Christmas gift shopping!  I had a couple of ideas in mind, a couple of little things for Hub, as well as this's and thats for the rest of the clan.   I brushed my hair out of my face, put on a cute little outfit and sensible shoes and timed my drive to the "big mall" 20 minutes south of where I live to arrive not long after opening so I could park within 1/2 mile of the entrance.  It went swimmingly.

Then I went directly to the store where I just knew I'd have success with the items for Hub.  That's where it went wrong.  (I can't be specific here, cuz Hub reads this blog regularly, bless his heart -- "Hub, close your eyes!")   The items in question are not exotic; they should have had them.  The first, nada.  The second, a dumb and crazy-expensive version of what I wanted.  And the clerk was rude, so I left...right after purchasing the cute, cuddly jacket for myself which I found on the sale rack.  And a pair of gloves I've been wanting.  The dress didn't fit, so I vowed again to cut back on sweets and to hop on the treadmill when I got home.

I was a little flustered with my lack of success at what was supposed to be the easy part of this shopping expedition.  I got outside that store and started heading to the department store across the mall to shop for others, and with each step, visualizing that huge store, my unfamiliarity with where things were there, the plethora of overwhelming choices I would face....my steps slowed.  I stopped, closing my eyes as happy shoppers streamed around me, and decided I just couldn't do it.  I did an about-face and headed for the parking lot.

By the time I got back to my town I had thoroughly chastised myself for wimping out.  I decided to give it another go at a smaller version of the same store north of my town.   (Yes, that's a lot of miles, gas, time....Shush!)  But first I had to do something, I don't know, comforting.  Hello Starbucks!  (Forgetting that lose weight vow of only 20 minutes earlier).  Eggnog Latte and Cranberry Bliss Bar in hand I was back in the car and heading north....for 2 blocks.  Again, the store loomed in my imagination, parking, going in, choices, indecision, expense....grrr...I turned and headed home, kicking myself for not being more creative about gift-planning the other 11 months of the year.

That's where I go wrong.  I detest shopping in general.  I'm OK at specific things at specific stores, but to "go shopping" just for fun, or "nose around" for no particular reason, or "I'll find something eventually" adventures do not appeal to me.  So every December I am in this same predicament.  I didn't plan ahead, I didn't "craft" anything appropriate, any imagination or brilliance I might have had, say, in July is now as soggy and wet and inhospitable as this morning's weather.

Oh, I'll figure it out and pull it together.  I always do.  But I am not a fan of the season.  I think it's because, like with so many things as I look back, I did not pace myself.  I used to be really good at this. I was the friggin' Christmas Fairy around here, creating holiday magic and rituals and traditions, as if my children's childhoods would be bereft without them.  Then they grew up and I grew tired.

Yes, I know it's not about gifts.  But I don't even feel like decorating this year.  I'm slowly turning into the biggest Scrooge ever, if scored on the "Outward Displays of Christmas Spirit" scale.

What I want and what I will get, for sure, (gifts or not, decor or not) is... time with my beautiful family, a fire in the fireplace, yummy food, board games, jigsaw puzzles, holiday music, special gatherings and services at my church, parties with friends....

As for something to open on Christmas morning, I wish I could just wrap my heart, so full of love and devotion and pride and compassion, and offer it to everyone I care about as a talisman to keep them safe, content, and in love with life forever.  That's what I wish.  No shopping required.

At least, that's the view from here....©

PRETTY IN PINK

Trucks, cars, Legos, balls, Transformers, Ninja Turtles, jumping, punching, slamming doors, hurling stuff.....

I raised boys.  Two of them, although at times it felt like twenty.  The house was always a whirlwind of toys and noise and half-eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches smeared on the upholstery.

So when Son-One grew up and started dating a beautiful young woman who had a beautiful 10-month old daughter, I felt we'd both hit the jackpot.  Him for falling in love and me for finally getting the chance to experience life with A LITTLE GIRL!!!

It has been fabulous.  She's three now.  She loves to jump, run, play hide-and-seek, sing songs, and color.  She sets out dishes for tea parties and takes tender good care of her "babies".  She builds amazing towers with blocks, writes her name, counts to 20, and remembers EVERYTHING!

She also dances.  There's the usual "Ring Around the Rosie", and spontaneous "dance parties" in the living room when a song with a good beat comes on the stereo.  But now, well, she has advanced beyond all that.

She is a ballerina.

Being social and smart and obviously uniquely talented, her parents decided to sign her up for a beginning ballet class through the park district.  Problem, it starts at 5:00 -- just a smidge too early for them to get her there on time after they get off work.  Ivy to the rescue!  "I'll take her!"  I declared, hardly able to contain my pleasure at the prospect.  I assumed all was ready last week, for her first class.

Then I got a text mid-day...."We just realized she needs a leotard, tights, and ballet slippers...do you think you could pick those up and we'll pay you back?"

What sort of language was this?  Leotard?  Slippers?  Tights?  That sounds nothing at all like cleats, balls, and batting gloves!  Where does one even start to shop for this stuff????  I had a moment of panic before coming to my senses and signing onto Facebook.  Soon I had a string of comments from moms of girls telling me where to go and what to buy.  Easy, breezy.

Angel and I had a terrific shopping expedition.  She was happy to try things on, but not as thrilled with the simple black leotard as she was with pointing to a multitude of bright, sparkly tutus she wanted as well.  ("Another time, sweetie....maybe next time....").

At class, she was shy at first.  And why not?  She and another little girl were the only "new girls" -- the other six girls had already been together for one previous session.  But brilliant child and phenomenal dancer that she is, she soon joined in and was the star of the class!  Yes, indeed, she pirouetted and plie'ed, and grand jete'ed with abandon.  Perhaps she was a bit eager to "beat" the other girls across the room -- we will discuss the non-racing aspects of ballet with her.  And we will suggest that going potty half-way through the 45 minute class (with the requisite completely disrobing to do so) is maybe not the best use of her time or her parents' money...but it seemed to be a trend with about half the girls, so maybe she just didn't want to feel left out.

As for me, I didn't cry, which is my usual response to uncontrollable waves of joy and delight.  I just watched her with a smile full of pride and a heart full of gratitude for this little Angel in my life.  And when her parents arrived,  my heart swelled even more to see the love and pride they took in watching their little girl take first steps into a new, bigger world.

Just like when I watched Angel's daddy take his first swing at a ball on a tee.  OK.  Now I'm crying....and it feels so good.

At least, that's the view from here....©

MAKE MY DAY

Cabela's moved into a shopping mall near us recently.  Whenever I drive by, the parking lot is jammed, so I've been curious.  This morning's newspaper contained a 30-page advertising section produced by this store, so I was eager to take a look.

The first 10 pages were devoted to firearms.  So my introduction to Cabela's raison d'etre was swift and shocking. (I was only on my first cup of coffee!)  Both rifles and handguns were featured.  I recognized some of the brand names from my childhood spent watching Westerns on TV with my dad -- Remington, Winchester, Smith and Wesson.  I'd also heard of a few more:  Beretta, Sig Sauer, Browning.  I had never heard of the Savage Arms brand, but was interested to note "Youth Models Also Available".  How nice.  There were "hog hunters" and "bear hunters", "bull whisperer" and "varmit stalker", "tactical" and "home defense" models.  Some had scopes, and some were ready to add your own high powered scope accessory.

The circular's pages continued then with an astonishing variety of "camo" stuff -- stalker cameras; binoculars; walkie-talkies; tent-like things called "blinds"; backpacks; shirts, jackets, pants, boots, gloves, hats -- my favorite was the True Timber Packable "Leafy Suit" made with 3-D leafy cut fabric including hooded jacket, pants, mitts, and MASK!  You could wear that while perched up in a tree on a mesh chair apparatus that attaches right to the trunk -- handy!  Why, that buck would walk right up to you and never be the wiser until your Savage Arms rifle popped him right in the heart!

Oops, did I just reveal my bias against hunting?  Actually, hunting, while not something I could personally do (those doe eyes!), I can at least understand on some level.  I guess.  Well, not really.  But if I was really hungry, I'd do what I had to do, just like my ancestors did.  It just seems like all the high-tech gear involved now gives all the advantage to the human.  Where's the sport in that?  Or the respect?

But back to the handguns.  My favorite, being a woman and all, was the Charter Arms "Lavender Lady" (with pink case!)  What girl wouldn't want a .38 special + P with five-shot cylinder  and 2" stainless barrel?   It is ultra-lightweight and is part of their "duo-tone" collection!  And on sale for only $449.99 -- $30.00 off the regular price!  Shoppin' the sales feels so good!

I'm actually anti-gun.  (You didn't see that coming, did you?)  The  damage, destruction, and death we reign down on each other in this country due to gun violence is astounding and terrifying.   I think guns provide an "easy" way to kill lots of people when used by the insane and the insanely violent.  Guns in the hands of us "good folk" give us a false sense of security, because it is only very rarely that any "bad guy" is stopped by an armed and righteous citizen who has an unambiguous claim that his action was justified.

At this juncture, I'm feeling a responsibility to look up statistics to prove my point.  But this isn't a scholarly piece where I need to cite facts and figures.  (Unless you are going to challenge me to do so, then we'll see).   I just need to listen to my heart to know that a gun in my Christmas stocking would not be a welcome gift, even though Cabela's would like me to start thinking along those lines.

In fact, a gun in my hands would surely be a lethal weapon, likely accidently aimed at myself, klutz that I am.  I'm not sure I really could pull the trigger on someone else anyway, even if for some unfathomable reason I would want to.  I'd be so freaked out I'd never be able to get off a round before the bad guy had the gun out of my hand, adding to his own arsenal.

Now that I think of it, though, when I worked in foster care I was astounded at the number of children who had been sexually abused, even tortured, by adult men in their lives.  Were I to come upon a situation like that taking place, I might be tempted to reach for my Lavender Lady, badass that I am when Mother Bear takes over my more mild-mannered sensibilities.  I'd mean only to shoot to maime, but I'm not a very good shot.   And that would land me in the defendant's chair at the inevitable trial. Playing with guns never ends well, for man or beast.  

At least, that's the view from here....©

DEFINE "SIMPLE"

Voluntary simplicity.  I'm all for it.  There has been a slow erosion of our collective ability to see through the marketing blizzard that keeps us hopping to corporate-sponsored self-interest in our spending and consuming habits.  We THINK we need more, bigger, better.  The end result is an economy in shambles and an environment on the edge of disaster.

Yet, there is a tendency in some circles to romanticize the "good old days" when times were simpler, people were more important than things, and consumerism wasn't a national past-time.   I think a bunch of those words need definition and context: "good"?  "simple"?  "things"?

I am one generation removed from the family farm.  Both of my parents (and their parents, and their parents....) grew up on family farms in the rural midwest in the 1920's and 1930's.  Twenty acres of corn and beans, a large kitchen garden, some dairy cows, chickens, hogs, and horses to pull the plows.  They ate what they grew, slaughtered hogs for sausage and ham, gathered eggs and wrung the necks of chickens that ended up on the kitchen table.  Milk came directly from Bessie out in the barn.

Both of my parents fled this life the minute they could in the 1940's, escaping to the city to find factory work, buy a modest home on an old tree-lined street, and plant flower beds skirting the lawn.

We never went camping when I was a kid in the 50's/60's because my dad's too vivid memories of waking up with ice water in the glass by his bed after the fires went out during the night, of hauling water, tending animals and doing hard, physical outdoor work on the farm every day left him with no desire to re-live this existence for recreational purposes.  He worked hard and was proud that HIS family had a roof over our heads in a home that was warm and comfortable.

They also had no desire to plant a garden.  They had both worked long, hard hours growing the food their families would eat on the farm.  And in seasons when the garden was meager, hunger was a reality.  They not only didn't eat well in that case, they also had little to barter in town for grain, sugar, and flour, further decimating the pantry.  New clothes, toys, Christmas gifts?  Not so much.

Most nights they went to bed at early dusk, bone tired and beaten down, only to get up and do it again every single day of the year.

I guess you could say their life was "simple" and "things" didn't matter, but I'm not so sure those old days were "good" either.

So I get impatient about romanticizing about the "good old days" when discussions of voluntary simplicity and non-consumerism crop up.   Yes, we need to examine our wasteful ways, but returning to a by-gone time isn't my goal.

I want to look squarely at my own weakness for Madison Avenue's influences and become much more discerning about what I need versus what I want.  And that becomes a tricky thing indeed.  I really, really want an I-Phone.  Do I NEED it?  Hmmmm.....  How about that big truck and camper we bought last year?  Need?  Want?  Or our annual trip to Kauai?  Need?  Want?  It seems easy to decide in theory, but there are a million ways in which my life is enhanced by satisfying some wants in ways that are important...experiences and memories are what make a life full and rich.  I want that.  Need, however, is pretty basic stuff:  enough food to keep me from starving, adequate clothing appropriate to the season, shelter from nature's whims.  Finding the balance between need and want is where my energies lie.

Here's what I will do.  I will voluntarily do my best to ponder each spending/consuming decision I make to ensure I am awake and aware of my motives.  I think by doing this I can simplify my life and the choices I make, with an eye toward economic equality and environmental health.  I have some "cleaning out" to do; some "downsizing" some day; that all feels good.

But for now, I also know I want to honor what my parents endured by realizing that our abundance of CHOICE was hard won by the hard work and sacrifice of people who came before us.  They weren't perfect; maybe their own trials made them easy fodder for Madison Avenue too.  But I know that if my garden fails, Costco is right down the street.  They made sure I wouldn't starve; now I need to make sure others, and our planet, do not suffer from the result of my wants outstripping their needs.

At least, that's the view from here....©