This weekend had a bit of an ominous beginning since I left the book I'm reading, The Lacemakers of Glenmara, at work and the library is closed Sunday and Monday (that will change as of April 25th). It was enough to induce a mini panic attack. Luckily, I have found that old movies and those tiny Cadbury eggs with the crisp shells that are completely addictive (Keri claims the shells are lined with crack!) can act as a substitute in a pinch.
Then, last night, Eric called to say that Jennifer was in Piedmont Hospital, possibly in labor a few weeks early. He was sitting in their van with their two little ones in the parking lot and Kylie had to go potty. Little Sophie didn't make her debut yet so we will, thankfully, have to wait a bit to meet her.
This morning I got a text from my sister saying my father was in the hospital because of dehydration. He had fainted at church and was rushed to the emergency room but was back home this afternoon. He sounded good but I learned that he is receiving chemotherapy. My mom's twelfth anniversary is this Sunday and we're hoping for no poetic coincidences here.
Right now I'm totally relaxed and watching Jack Nicholson experience a panic attack in Something's Gotta Give, a very cute, funny movie. Life is back to normal and now I can start thinking about Easter baskets for Kylie and Logan. When I gave Kylie a little Valentine bear she told her family in Tennessee her "friend Grandma" (pronounced Gamma) gave it to her.
I hope you enjoy a wonderful Easter and that Peter Rabbit treats you very well.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
The Line Forms on the Left (and Right...)
It doesn't do much for a woman's morale to witness wrinkles, lines, sags -- whatever wasn't there a while ago, like yesterday -- appearing in full glory when she innocently looks into the mirror with no intention of conducting an inspection.
Whoever came up with the quip, "aging gracefully" was probably a man or a nun but the French comedic actress, Jeanne Moreau, expressed her thoughts on it. "Aging gracefully is supposed to mean trying not to hide time passing and just looking a wreck. Don't worry, girls, look like a wreck, that's the way it goes." Not exactly encouraging, more like a challenge set up by Botox distributors!
I really hate to think of myself as overly concerned about looking my age but each new birthday imprints its greeting around my eyes and cheekbones. It seems that one part of the female body has a tug of war with the other. I have a couple of friends near my age who wish they were thinner, but they have beautiful, smooth, full faces. I caught a profile of my face and I'd swear the air was let out of one of my cheeks which looked like a deflated balloon.
Gloria Steinem once wrote that on her 60th birthday she was talking to someone in the ladies' room of a restaurant and mentioned what she was celebrating. The other woman told her she didn't look 60 but Gloria replied, "Yes, I do; this is what 60 looks like." It may have been the first time the other person had ever heard a woman over 30 admit her real age.
A couple of years ago, I heard people saying "60 is the new 40"! Obviously, Mother Nature wasn't informed of this and doesn't believe in cover-ups. So, on Easter Sunday, I will hit the ripe age of 63 and I will eat all the cake I want --maybe some butter cream will lodge inside my cheeks (probably the wrong ones!).
The best way to deal with our imperfections staring at us in the mirror is a sense of humor. Then we can convince ourselve that the new flaws are just laugh lines. Ha ha ha!
Whoever came up with the quip, "aging gracefully" was probably a man or a nun but the French comedic actress, Jeanne Moreau, expressed her thoughts on it. "Aging gracefully is supposed to mean trying not to hide time passing and just looking a wreck. Don't worry, girls, look like a wreck, that's the way it goes." Not exactly encouraging, more like a challenge set up by Botox distributors!
I really hate to think of myself as overly concerned about looking my age but each new birthday imprints its greeting around my eyes and cheekbones. It seems that one part of the female body has a tug of war with the other. I have a couple of friends near my age who wish they were thinner, but they have beautiful, smooth, full faces. I caught a profile of my face and I'd swear the air was let out of one of my cheeks which looked like a deflated balloon.
Gloria Steinem once wrote that on her 60th birthday she was talking to someone in the ladies' room of a restaurant and mentioned what she was celebrating. The other woman told her she didn't look 60 but Gloria replied, "Yes, I do; this is what 60 looks like." It may have been the first time the other person had ever heard a woman over 30 admit her real age.
A couple of years ago, I heard people saying "60 is the new 40"! Obviously, Mother Nature wasn't informed of this and doesn't believe in cover-ups. So, on Easter Sunday, I will hit the ripe age of 63 and I will eat all the cake I want --maybe some butter cream will lodge inside my cheeks (probably the wrong ones!).
The best way to deal with our imperfections staring at us in the mirror is a sense of humor. Then we can convince ourselve that the new flaws are just laugh lines. Ha ha ha!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
We Interrupt This Game
You know spring is really here when life starts to revolve around ballfield schedules. My days of taking turns at manning the Mountain Park snack bar and socializing in the stands at the games for both of my kids are over and I pass that baton on to the next generation. I have to admit that as hectic as our lives were every spring, I miss those days.
Both Eric and Keri inherited Stan's athletic DNA. (I do not possess one trace of that gene). Eric has lived and breathed sports since he was three years old and has an assortment of scars to prove it. His daughter now is three and has abandoned ballet for T-ball. She only really joined dance classes for the tutu and she wears that with her princess tiara constantly! Her dad, the assistant coach, is so proud. He is also pretty shocked that she listens to him when he tells her to run and mucho impressed that she has a powerful swing despite her wiry frame.
He was not prepared for what happened at the last practice. He knows that three and four year- olds are prone to sitting down in the field and throwing pebbles. But he never saw practice interrupted for hugging. There are only two girls on the team, both named Kylie. They apparently discovered that all important gift that girls seem to recognize instinctively -- friendship -- and they just couldn't contain themselves.
Cathy recently wrote about the Oatmeal greeting card line and I keep picturing a card with two little girls in their helmets on a ballfield, oblivious to their apoplectic fathers, hugging each other and grinning their heads off. But a humorous quip escapes me. If you think of something, feel free to send it to Oatmeal.
Eric tells me that Kylie is just like me -- she never keeps quiet! Well, we have other things in common too: we both wear glasses, love books, and are huggers! It makes Gramma's day to know this.
Both Eric and Keri inherited Stan's athletic DNA. (I do not possess one trace of that gene). Eric has lived and breathed sports since he was three years old and has an assortment of scars to prove it. His daughter now is three and has abandoned ballet for T-ball. She only really joined dance classes for the tutu and she wears that with her princess tiara constantly! Her dad, the assistant coach, is so proud. He is also pretty shocked that she listens to him when he tells her to run and mucho impressed that she has a powerful swing despite her wiry frame.
He was not prepared for what happened at the last practice. He knows that three and four year- olds are prone to sitting down in the field and throwing pebbles. But he never saw practice interrupted for hugging. There are only two girls on the team, both named Kylie. They apparently discovered that all important gift that girls seem to recognize instinctively -- friendship -- and they just couldn't contain themselves.
Cathy recently wrote about the Oatmeal greeting card line and I keep picturing a card with two little girls in their helmets on a ballfield, oblivious to their apoplectic fathers, hugging each other and grinning their heads off. But a humorous quip escapes me. If you think of something, feel free to send it to Oatmeal.
Eric tells me that Kylie is just like me -- she never keeps quiet! Well, we have other things in common too: we both wear glasses, love books, and are huggers! It makes Gramma's day to know this.
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Shaping Up
I am sitting near a window looking out at a sunny day that belies the cold temperatures. Two days ago, this window looked like a snow globe but the weatherwoman said this morning that we are getting closer to Spring. That's wonderful news because I'm sick of winter.
That means though, with the way time has been soaring by before I can even appreciate it, summer will be here in a blink of an eye and I will (horrors) have to look for summer clothes. I do not like summer clothes -- I like turtlenecks. I love the scene in "Something's Gotta Give" where Jack Nicholson asks Diane Keaton why she is wearing a turtleneck in the summer (at the beach no-less) and she tells him it's because she likes them. She is my heroine. (My husband used to tease me about them too and I told him the same thing).
I think trying on bathing suits ranks right up there with prepping for a colonoscopy. My daughter is working out with a trainer now and eating better -- so she is more positive about the bathing suit situation. She and her buddy Rebecca started a blog: Seasonshapeup.blogspot.com,
and it is really pretty informative on how to eat better, etc., in a realistic way. Both girls are doing well and I'm proud of them. I would be extremely grateful if you wonderful ladies would pleeeeease check out their blog once in a while so that the magazine sees that people are reading it (other than mothers).
Let's hope the weather keeps shaping up and that we don't get sleet on Easter!
That means though, with the way time has been soaring by before I can even appreciate it, summer will be here in a blink of an eye and I will (horrors) have to look for summer clothes. I do not like summer clothes -- I like turtlenecks. I love the scene in "Something's Gotta Give" where Jack Nicholson asks Diane Keaton why she is wearing a turtleneck in the summer (at the beach no-less) and she tells him it's because she likes them. She is my heroine. (My husband used to tease me about them too and I told him the same thing).
I think trying on bathing suits ranks right up there with prepping for a colonoscopy. My daughter is working out with a trainer now and eating better -- so she is more positive about the bathing suit situation. She and her buddy Rebecca started a blog: Seasonshapeup.blogspot.com,
and it is really pretty informative on how to eat better, etc., in a realistic way. Both girls are doing well and I'm proud of them. I would be extremely grateful if you wonderful ladies would pleeeeease check out their blog once in a while so that the magazine sees that people are reading it (other than mothers).
Let's hope the weather keeps shaping up and that we don't get sleet on Easter!
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