Back In The Saddle Again

It’s been a busy week that took me all over the place including a trip to my internist for my biannual appointment. He pronounced me five pounds up from when I last saw him. I already knew that, of course, and was ready with a promise that I’m starting Weight Watchers and walking this weekend. Lecture averted and he’s expecting follow-up e-mails. He knows me well. I do better when accountability is part of the equation.

The senior citizen’s hall has a lot of outings spring through fall and I’m starting to catch on about the mystery trips they sponsor. They go to places you don’t think are interesting until after you’ve been there. The mystery tour I went to today was to a large medical research institute that has 314 scientists and their support staff who are all working on finding cures and treatments for various cancers and neuro-degenerative diseases. Plus they have a wing with research labs they lease out to universities adding more people working in the building. When I thought about scientists working on cures I pictured a dedicated loner here and there spread out across the country, all locked in a cramped lab totally void of human contact. The institute I toured was spacious with hallways large enough to host parties and lots of glass walls, serene areas, a symposium hall and ‘Thank God it’s Friday’ beer nights in the cafeteria. And young! When did people doing such important work get so young? It also cracked me up that in the cafeteria every chair was close enough to a bank of floor plugs to power a lap top. I’ve never seen so many floor plugs all in one place in my life.

Also this week I went on a tour of a four year culinary arts college. I’ve been there before and I would go again. The tours always end the same way: with a classy meal at their high-style restaurant where the students serve in starched uniforms and the dessert cart holds picture-perfect and decadent offerings. My entrée choice was, “apple cider ginger braised pork shoulder with toasted kamut raisin pilaf, broccoli, crisp bacon, topped with tomato chimichurri, crunchy bread flute and ‘oeuf sur le plat’” but I debated between that and the, “beef tenderloin ribbons 'Straccetti-style' scorched in olive oil, garlic, and rosemary and served on Roman-style gnocchi, pizziola sauce and glazed asparagus.” I wonder if the students have to take a class on how to write menus. You need a translator to understand everything. The soup they served was cauliflower but it had a lot of tiny and uncommon ingredients that had us all talking and asking questions. All and all it was a great way to spend a rainy day.

Since last fall when I moved out my antique booth in a near-by town I’ve been keeping an eye out to find another booth closer to home and smaller. This week I rented a 2’ x 8’ space in a mall where the place has more of a mid-century vide than true antiques which suits me just fine because I’ll be able to sell a wider range of things than in my old booth. With another summer of e-Baying and mall sales I should finally be downsized enough to make me happy and positioned better to move, should something interesting pop up. The only ‘if’ in the equation is the mall is new and unknown but it’s on an extremely busy intersection so I’m betting on that. Plus the rent is cheap and the lease is short so I can call it summer entertainment if I don’t sell well there. I move in the middle of April.

I love being around other collectors. When I walk into antique malls, I feel an instant camaraderie. It’s hard to explain but after signing the lease, I felt a calm come over me, like I’d found myself again. As much as I’ve been around the women at the senior hall and the Red Hat Society, I don’t feel like I fit in all that well. They’re all lovely people, don’t get me wrong. But collectors, for one thing, don’t spend much time talking about their grandkids, churches and trips aboard. It’s more, “Where did you ever find that?” and “What do you know about this------?” And they understand the thrill of finding something like another square fruit jar with an embossed cross-hatched pattern. (I use them for canisters.) Yup, I feel like I’m back in the saddle again! Now, if summer would get to Michigan I could be happy again. ©

The Gifts This Widow Gives herself

Have you ever researched something online, then for the next few weeks everywhere you go on the internet that product pops up in a sidebar or banner across the top? Right now I’m dealing with the reappearing toilet ads and to make them disappear I have to find something else to research. What should it be? Thrill seekers vacation packages? Serenity retreats in Tibet? Spanx undergarments? Anything to get rid of the Toto toilet ads!

I went out to our trusty plumbing shop this week and ordered a new ADA toilet. “Big deal,” you’re saying, “what does that have to do with widowhood?” Actually, quite a lot in my case. You see, for the past twelve years of Don’s life we had a potty chair over a low toilet because that’s the combination that gave my right-side paralyzed husband the most independence when it came to butt wiping. It took an hour appointment with an occupational therapist to figure that one out, but I like the height of the potty chair so I kept on using after his passing. Then the seat broke and they won’t let you just order a new one, you have to buy a whole new potty chair. It seemed silly to put $150 into a potty chair when I could use that towards a real ADA toilet that is costing me $340 plus labor to install it. Little by little the reminders of my spouse are drifting away. Don’t get me wrong. I won’t miss the ugly potty chair but replacing it is still a sad reminder that my life will never be the same with Don gone from my world. <big sigh here>

The Red Hat Society business meeting tea was my Wednesday outing. We each signed 80 Christmas cards for the shoeboxes full of goodies we’ll be putting together next month for homeless vets and residents at our adopted nursing home. We also chit-chatted about past fun and future plans. Somewhere in the conversation a lady made a comment to me that I should write a book. And dumb me, I outed myself by saying, “Oh, I already have.” Long story short, one of the other ladies e-mailed me several hours later to say she found my books online and ordered them both. My “secret life” won’t be so secret after she reads them. What’s the worst that could happened? No one will want to sit next to me unless I sign a pledge of confidentiality? They’ll ask me to drop out of the group because they can’t trust me not to write about them next? See, I told you I’m a worry-wart. I’m actually quite careful not to use people’s names when I blog/write because I do value other people’s expectations of privacy when they are in social situations.

This week I also got the test results back on my bi-yearly checkup---I’m going to live!---and except for a thyroid issue we’ll have to deal with I’m doing fine. Changing the way I eat has made a big difference in my blood work. Under protest I got a breast exam, too, which turned out fine as I knew it would. Also this week, my antique booth got a quick overhaul. The last time I was there I put my notice in that I’ll be moving out at the end of the month. The whole booth is now marked down to 50% and sales should be good through Thanksgiving. If I had any brains I would be moving out after Christmas but I don’t want to drive that far out of town in snow season so I’m letting commonsense rule over greed.

Today I volunteered at the museum where I spent a boring afternoon with the director of the place. He’s not boring---quite the contrary---but there was very little traffic coming in and that’s not likely to change until next spring except for an occasional Boy Scouts troop and other school aged group tours. One of these days I’m going to volunteer to be there when they are scheduled but I’m almost afraid to do it for fear I’ll get bit by the bug to do it again. It's kind of fun to play with the Lincoln logs in the kiddie corner.

The second anniversary of Don’s passing comes the middle of January and my holiday season in between now and then sure is lining up differently this year. Last year, there were no parties or social engagements, nothing to look forward to but the dark side of grief. Not that I would have felt like partying last year but by contrast I can see the fruits of my efforts to build friendships the past 4-5 months. I still won’t have any place to go on the actually holidays, but there are plenty of other parties in my day planner starting next Saturday with a purse party. Don’t ask me what that is. All I know is I said, “yes,” when the invitation came in to our Red Hat chapter. ©