California Dreamin

It is common to hear people talk about hospitality as though it is a trait only held by those who reside in the southeast region of the United States. On a recent visit to southern California I discovered that we, southerners, have nothing on those folks. What a trip. Landing at noon PST, the sun glistens. The temperature is a warm, comfortable, 76 degrees farenheight. No jackets or coats to wear. No rain gear needed. No mud, leaves, snow, slush or cutting frigid winds. No, only beautiful sunshine, blooming beauganvilla, clean air, ocean breezes, palm trees and nice happy people. Perhaps a change in venue would make me nicer?

What is a middle aged crisis? Is it only defined as a middle aged person trying to reclaim their youth by having an affair or buying a sportscar that they couldn't afford when they were younger? Is it plastic surgery or weight loss, dying your hair a youthful color or trying to dress like a twenty year old? Is it fulfilling a wild adventure you've always dreamed of like bungie jumping or trying to climb Mt. Kilamanjaro? I'm not sure what it is, but I suddenly feel middle aged, maybe even old. I've honestly felt older since my mother died ten years ago. Being the next generation to die is a stunning notion. My son is in college. My daughter is a senior in high school. All three of my children hold a legal, valid drivers license. There are no more field trips or cupcakes to send to school. I'm dying my hair. I always turned my nose up at people that dye their hair. Gray hair is something earned, not something to hide. At least that was the case when my best friend became more and more gray. Her hair was cool. It had a magnificent gray stripe in the front. But now, on me, it hurts my feelings. It washes out my face and enhances those years of being the most tan kid in school.

Marching to the beat of my own drum, I want to do my middle aged crisis differently. I want to go back to southern California and hang out with retirees. I love moving at a slower pace. I'm ready to garden, volunteer somewhere where you are appreciated, get a discount at all the restaurants, and go to bed early. I love to eat the early bird special. I want to sit outdoors in mild temperatures and gleaming sunshine and ponder my existance. I want to tell my friends about my days past. Maybe I'm just an old soul. Maybe, my afternoon glass of wine has made me silly. I just don't know.

Perhaps the responsibilities of my life have made me weary. I am lucky. I have more than most and have the priviledge of this little getaway. But, greed makes me want more. More quiet days with just my man. More delicious meals made with the freshest ingredients. Coffee cozies hand knitted by a local. Tomatoes harvested in December. Train rides into the city. Walking instead of driving. I'd like to step back in time a bit.

Hot flashes are a drag. They symbolize the death of my reproductive self. The death of a part of me. The death of my youth. I am now in the group that jokes are made about. Jokes like, she should be on the cover of menopause monthly. It's a weird place to be. While the vein side of me is sad about the changes that age bring to my physical self, I don't want to go back to the insecure, stupidity of my youth. I like not knowing everything and being quite ok about it. I like doing the old lady thing. So, with the pro con list intact, getting older is not so bad. I'm just at the preretirement window looking in, nose pressed against the glass wishing for something that when I have it I will regret the loss of what I had to give up to get here.

So, I'll just have those delicious memories of a wonderful weekend, away from it all. Thank you to best friend's family. Thank you to southern california hospitality and charm. Thank you God for beautiful weather, the ocean, the opportunity, my man and my family that periodically makes me want to run away. I expect it wouldn't all be so sweet without you.

Thanksgiving Pasts

It is really starting to feel like Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving was my Mom's big holiday. Our house was Thanksgiving central for our families. There was the six of us, spouses, nineteen grandchildren, cousins, uncles,aunts and grandparents. It was insane, but a lot of fun. It was a near occasion of sin for anyone watching their calories. Our house was a ranch style house with a kitchen that was like an isleway. No two people could hardly pass. My mother constantly complained about the layout of the kitchen. It felt a little like the VW commercial where you'd see just how many women could squeeze into that little kitchen. Children ran in and out of the doors letting in all of the cold air. The fireplace was usually roaring with a huge fire. Everyone fought for a prime spot to back up to. My Mom would usually start roasting the biggest turkey she could find, at 2 am. She loved all of the work involved with that dinner. She couldn't wait for her favorite sister to come in from out of town. I miss those days and sometimes, I can barely remember them. Grief is a weird creature. It's a little like a predator. You can't always see it as it circles and then it shows up from out of nowhere. It's been ten years since I've had a Thanksgiving with my mother and six years since I've had Thanksgiving with my Dad. I am usually not sad. My memories are usually happy but, this year, this week, I'm sad and I don't know why. Maybe I'm getting old and losing my short term memory and starting to only remember years ago. Maybe the world is scarrier now and I've reverted back to a little girl looking for her Mom. Maybe I'm just a menopasal, middle aged woman who is a prisoner to her ever changing and erratic hormones. Maybe I'm just a sap. But, I miss my Mom and Dad and my old Thanksgivings. I miss not be in charge of employees and a business and children and a house and animals and a barn. I miss waking up to my Mom being in the kitchen with the great smells. I miss waking up to the fire already built and Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade already on. I miss the anticipation of all of the guests arriving. Okay, enough whinning. It is Thanksgiving we're talking about. I am so thankful for the parents who gave me those memories and all of that unconditional love. I'm thankful for a husband who is learning to carefully tread around chaois of my middle aged madness, who really seems to love me nonetheless. I am thankful for my three children who continue to amaze me as they grow and mature. I am thankful for my brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins neices and nephews and GREAT neices and nephews (yes I'm getting old). I'm thankful to my best friend whose heard her fair share of this whinning and is still hanging around. I thankful for my little cuddly chihuahua who loves me and only me most of the time. I am thankful for Lacey, my quarterhorse mare who takes good care of a novice rider. I am thankful for our employees and their dedication, our trips to my best friends beach house in southern California, a clean house, AC 360 (I'm addicted), diet pepsi, summertime, bubblegum, coffee, and too many other things to name. So, I'm going to make a quick trip to my Thanksgiving Past. I'm going to hike around my parent's old property and visit their grave sites which I've never really liked doing but oddly feel drawn to do and then I'm coming home, shopping for the biggest turkey I can find and set my alarm for 2 am to start that turkey. Happy Thanksgiving.

Finally Friday

It's November and dark and dreary too much of the day. This SAD girl has to battle the light deficiancy. Today, was a good day though. All my kids are here and growing up and so fun to be around. As a little girl I wanted to be a writer and today, I got the chance. I think God has a sense of humor, though. In all my wildest dreams, I never imagined spending hours writing about equine parasitology. It's just about as exciting as watching paint dry. But, necessary to do during this slow economy. I finished my clinic newsletter on equine parasitology (worms), I rode Lacey and CANTERED(without falling) and I actually started this blog. Not too bad for an old gal.

Horsedoc spent the day doing damage control with all of the tough clients. I think they come out during these short days. He had one who told him how to treat her horse (in no uncertain terms) , one who can't accept it's diagnosis because of all of the holistic medicine sites she's read online have given her wild avenues to follow regarding a cure for a horse in congestive heart failure, and one who always schedules for one that didn't need to be seen while the one that did, they didn't notice. He's off again tonight to treat a colic. What a life.

Wild Bill is working hard at school. He is going to WKU to visit with his cousin tonight. Those boys have always been buddies. He is also painting at a friend's house. One of their youngest "helps" him. He comes home with all sorts of new information. Usually he tells him some new juicy, tidbit and says, "I'm not sure you're supposed to know that".

Ellie Mae is showing again this weekend. She has dressage at 8:42 am!! Stadium jumping depends on where she places in stadium. It's so much fun.

Lou Lou is tired after this long week and going to a play with friends tomorrow after mass. Her birthday is in 12 days and she will be getting her license!! She also gets her braces off on December 22nd. Lot's of exciting things on the horizon.

Life is full. I am tired, but thankful. It's finally Friday.