Tired Feet and Other Crazy Widowhood Distractions

I spent forty years of my life going to auctions, at roughly six per year that’s over 240 auctions where I’ve stood with a paddle in my hand. And I can honestly say the fund-raiser auction I volunteered at on Saturday for the museum was more fun than any I’ve ever attended. The working part was a flurry of activities and I was dog tired after two days on my feet but I’m getting to know people better, seeing a potential for friendship within the group. But it was the auctioneer who put the cherry on the experience. He had the funniest spiel I’ve ever heard at an auction, and because the auction was in a small town where many of the people knew each other, the jokes and good natured bantering back and forth was priceless. My stomach hurt from laughing.

At the silent auction I won $330 worth of gift certificates for $60.00.That included the cooking lessons that I was lusting over all last week. Oh, my god what have I gotten myself into? The website says the chefs (apparently there are more than one) who teach the classes have classes for whatever level you’re at including for people who can barely boil water, so I should be okay. I think. Now I have to decide if I want to bring someone with me and go only once, or go alone and get two classes. The classes include eating what you cook plus you get a fine wine and dessert with your meal. Their classroom-kitchen is sandwiched in between the best restaurant in town and a wine shop that is known for their tasting parties. Quite a neat concept for a little tourist town to have but right now the classes mostly seem to be about canning, so I’ll have to wait until farmers market season is over to see what they have offer for November and December.

When I look back over all the places I’ve been and things I’ve done in September I can hardly believe I’m looking at my own life. I’ve never been this social and it’s so out of character for my last 40 plus years for me push myself out into the big wide world the way I’ve been doing. I didn’t have to; I had my soul mate at my side. You’re probably thinking, “Boohoo, the widow is bidding for sympathy again!” Fair enough. I’ll keep my boohoo thoughts to myself and just say that I’m over scheduled for October, too, but after that I should be able to edit my choices down of activities that best suit my goals and interests---the senior hall, the Red Hat Society and/or volunteering at the museum. I might just decide to become a hermit and start doing Zentangle on the walls. My adoptive hometown where the museum and Red Hatters are at has an art studio opening up soon where you'll be able to rent easel space for $20.00 for two hours without instruction or $30.00 with it. I’m itching to explore that activity as well but with the weather being what it is in Michigan that might have to wait until spring.

Every spare moment I’ve had this past week I’ve been writing, editing and polishing like a madwoman on a mission and I finished my spoof obituary. Its twenty-five pages long and quite funny if I do say so myself. I was able to weave my factitious covert secret agent career into the real facts of my entire life. For example, the floral shop that I started working at when I was in high school became a money laundering place with ties to an international mafia and that’s when the CIA recruited me. The nights when Don and I were plowing snow at the mall became cover stories for our clandestine meetings where we bonded over changing the balance of power in the world. Even my dogs became part of the plot. I’m pretty sure I’m going to have the spoof obituary printed up in a soft cover book format (with photos added) and give copies to my nieces, nephew and brother for gifts. Why not. I’ve practically written my own for-real obituary at the end that suggests anyone attending my memorial service should bring their sense of humor for the reading of excerpts from my unabridged obituary. My nieces and nephew will have plenty of material in my spoof obituary to write my eulogy. I wrote my dad’s and husband’s eulogy. Someone else can write mine…unless I get bored some night in between now and when it’s needed. Lord, I need another writing project to take me in another direction before people start thinking I’m a self-absorbed widow with a dark obsession about my own mortality! Oops, too late. That cat is already out of the bag. ©