Here you are at the fourteenth page of my random thoughts. I hope you've read through the other pages and, as always, your comments are appreciated.
I'm in the process of looking for a home for me. Where I live now in North Carolina and where I lived in Maine were temporary places, to help me recover and adjust from the divorce. They are fine, but they aren't home, and I want a home now. I recently spent a day with a realtor in Asheville, NC, and am getting ready to spend time with realtors in Prescott and Payson, AZ. This process has caused me to think about what I want in a place to live. I checked out a book from the library about helping you decide what you're looking for in a town. I wish there was an easy answer, but I tell the realtors quite honestly, that I don't know what I'm looking for. Not in a town and not in a house. This started me thinking back on the various places I've lived in my life.
The only reason I remember the first place I lived, since I was of course a baby at the time, is it was a four-plex where both sets of my grandparents lived. My parents and my paternal grandfather's brother made up the other two tenants. Shortly after I was born, my parents bought the house I lived in till I was 12. The fourplex was at 7848 S. Clyde Avenue in Chicago's south side. As far as I know, it is still there, though I haven't been by it in years. It was a nice 2 bedroom apartment, one bath, living room and dining room, kitchen, with a small porch on the back. My parents and my mom's parents were on the first floor; my dad's parents and Uncle Teddy were on the top floor. My parents moved out, most likely to get away from the ever present interference of my well intentioned grandparents, and bought our house at 8818 S. Merrill Avenue, about a mile and a half away. I spent a lot of time in that building, at family events, after we had moved away
It was a brand new house, and I have tried many times to remember the inside of the house. There were three bedrooms in this house. Still only one bathroom. I guess people were more considerate those days. The place I'm looking for is just for me, and I want at least a bath and a half. The house was a typical 50's style Chicago brick house. Pretty much everyone moving into the neighborhood was a married couple with kids, so there were lots of kids to play with. I don't remember much about my actual bedroom, except it was connected by a sliding door to my brother's, probably to make it easier to get to the bathroom. I spent a lot of time there, making up games, playing with my Barbies. It was in that house my brother got polio, and also that my father died. My mom's parent's moved in with us after that, and took my parent's bedroom and my mom started sleeping in the den they'd added on, at the back of the house. I can still see in my memory my grandmother in the kitchen, cooking and baking. I often dream about knocking on the door and asking if I can look inside, to see if any good memories come back. Even if it were a better neighborhood, I wouldn't.
When I was 12, my mom moved us out to California. She sold the house, my grandparents went back to their old apartment on Clyde, and we ended up in a 2 bedroom apartment on 13129 Oxnard Street, in Van Nuys. Or maybe we got a one bedroom first, then moved into the 2 bedroom. There was nothing remarkable about the place. It's too long ago for me to recall these days. The complex had 20 apartments on it, on three floors. We were on the second floor. It also had a swimming pool, which to a kid from Chicago seemed remarkable. My mom even had a parking place of her own. She lived there till I went off to Berkeley, then she got a smaller apartment on Woodman Avenue, but that never seemed like my home. Just a place I would visit, over the next 20 some odd years.
At Berkeley, I lived in a dorm. I had what turned out to be very unrealistic ideas about what dorm life would be, due to reading too many teen age novels. My first roommate was never there because she was too busy spending time with her boyfriend. I did make friends there; one of who I am still friends with today. I adjusted to going to the bathroom in little privacy and keeping my door open all the time. I spent my second year at Berkeley in the same dorm, but managed to alienate my roommate for that year into requesting a change. So I had a room to myself that second year, which I really liked.
The next few years I moved quite a bit. My third year at Berkeley, I roomed with my best friend in a typical student's apartment building near school for the first quarter. Then I got a boyfriend, Ellen and I fought, and we sublet our apartment and I moved out to Oakland to the Brook Street house with John. That was a big old house in a crummy part of Oakland, and there were anywhere from 5 to 15 people living there at the time. It wasn't a true commune, but if you left something in the kitchen, it would be gone before you went back to finish it. My ex lived there too, and I moved into his room after I broke up with John. We soon got a place of our own, a third floor apartment on Shafter Street in Oakland. Somewhere in here we got married, then we moved to an apartment on E 14th Street, till we went to Chico to finish college. There we had my all time favorite apartment, at 644 Esplanade. It was a duplex, and we had the top floor. I liked it because it was so sunny, and felt like a real home. We lived there the 2 years we were at Chico State, then it was a couple of months in Yuba City, Stockton and finally just outside of San Luis Obispo, while he managed Straw Hat Pizza restaurants. In Yuba City, we stayed a few weeks in a motel. Stockton was another nice but nothing special apartment. When we got to SLO, we thought about buying, but we couldn't qualify for anything. So we rented out of town, because SLO is a college town and there was nothing available we could afford. We found an apartment of sorts..... a converted gas station about 25 miles north. We took it and I was miserable there. You could see where the gas pumps used to be in our *front yard*. It had one bedroom, a main room, a kitchen and a bathroom and they were all the same size. It was here I began to care about how big the kitchen was, because I was so bored I used to bake all the time here. It was also in the middle of nowhere.... not quite in Atascadero, not quite in Santa Margarita.
Next we moved to Chicago so my ex could go to grad school. It was quite a scary experience to find an apartment in Chicago back then. I would answer ads, go to seedy offices to fill out applications, but finally, I was able to rent a place. It was an older building in the Rogers Park neighborhood, at 2325 W Farwell. It was a 2 bedroom, 2 bath place, and we lived there for 2 years. It was in walking distance to everything... my job the first year, my grandparent's condominium, the grocery store, and the El. And, down the street from Fluky's till they moved right next door.
Fred took a job in Minneapolis with General Mills after getting his MBA. Rentals were particularly hard to get that year, and we wanted to be in Minneapolis rather than out in the suburbs. We got the apartment at 3620 Lyndale Avenue S because the owner of the duplex went to the same junior high school in Van Nuys that I attended. I was at the time, 4 months pregnant, and once again, we had a second floor apartment. It was full of dark wood and had 2 bedrooms. One bathroom, but we couldn't be choosy with apartments so scarce. It was on a bus line too, which was necessary then, since we still just had one car. That was Evelyn's first home. I used to point it out to her when we would drive by it and she would groan everytime.
Finally, we were in the position to buy a house. The first of many houses we would own. This one was at 2420 S. Fremont Avenue, in the Wedge neighborhood. It was built in 1904, had beautiful woodwork and a big built in buffet in the dining room. It had two staircases, and built in bookcases and leaded glass windows. There were 4 bedrooms upstairs and an unfinished attic. The kitchen was small, but I had fallen in love with the woodwork. There was a big porch that we could screen in for the summer, and I actually had a small garden in the back. I wish I could say home ownership made me a better housekeeper, but it didn't. Greg was born while we lived in this house, and I got to fix up Evelyn's new room. I painted it a cheery yellow, even made the window shades. After we bought the house, I started the habit of going to open houses on Sundays. The pretense was to get ideas for this house, but the reality was I just liked snooping around other people's homes.
Three years later, we were looking at house in Memphis TN due to a job change. We ended up, like all corporate transfers, in Germantown, their one suburb at the time. That was where I learned the lesson that neighborhood is more important than the house, at least in the South. Of course, this was after we had bought our house at 2910 Hocking Cove, which did not follow this rule. Of all the houses we had, this was probably the nicest. Big bright kitchen, living room, dining and den downstairs. Four bedrooms upstairs, and the playroom over the garage. Two car garage, fenced yard. We bought our first *real* furniture for this house. For the living room no one ever went in. But I hated Germantown, and after 18 months, we sold the house and bought a ranch-style house in Memphis proper, at 4882 Gwynne Road. We lived here for over 4 years, and I had the kitchen remodeled when we first moved in. I loved that kitchen. I had a thermidor stove with a grill to cook on, and we had it built so there was lots of room to work and eat informally. This was Lowell's first home. The house was L shaped. The former owners had added a huge master bedroom on the back of the house, with a big deck. Each of the kids had their own room too. There was a big den with radiant heated floors and a deck off of that.
Next we moved back to the twin cities. We had three children and the most important thing was the school district. We wanted to move back to Minneapolis, but they had magnet schools, and I didn't want to deal with that again. So we concentrated looking in Edina. I can't remember how many houses we looked at the first day, but none of them were what we wanted. Once again, we couldn't quite afford the neighborhood we wanted. I jokingly said that we would buy the fourth house we saw the next day. We should have, but we didn't. Instead, we bought the house my ex and kids still live in. We actually put bids in on both houses, and then, had to decide which counter offer to accept. We made the wrong decision. It has 3 bedrooms, 3 baths, the sun room which is only used part time because of no heat, and a finished downstairs. When my ex lost his job in 1992, I had hopes we would move, go somewhere else, but we didn't.
Because of the divorce, I moved away. I ended up in Portland Maine, and I liked my little apartment there. My attorney told me I had to have two bedrooms, so I did, even though then, as now, the other bedroom sits empty. The owners of that building on Sheridan Street had fixed the apartment up nicely, with new floors and while I was there, redid the kitchen. I could see the ocean from the kitchen and living room windows. I liked being in the city again, where I could walk to places. I probably would still be there, but I moved here for school. I rented a very ordinary townhouse in a suburb much like Edina. It was within my price range, close to school and shopping but it's boring and all beige. The rooms are large and there is plenty of closet space and I have no reason to complain. I did buy some colorful border for the kitchen area and put it up, since after only two weeks here, I couldn't bear to be in the boring blandness of the kitchen.
Like my place in Portland, I haven't put much up on the walls. I don't have my prints here, and I don't want to make a lot of holes in the wall. The furniture I'm planning on taking out of my old house is still in Minnesota, because I have not yet found a place to settle down in, make a home. That's what I'm trying to do now. If I don't find it in Arizona in the next two weeks, I guess I'm back to square one .... again. It's becoming a familiar situation, but I look at is an opportunity, not a setback. Eventually I will figure out where I'm supposed to be, where I need to make my next home. And I will be sure to amend this little story to include that house in the places I have lived.
©28 February, 1999I bought a house. Me. Just me. Ok, so this is technically the second time i've bought a house. But this one i am not backing out of. When i almost bought the house in Bisbee, i was not ready to make that big of a decision. And i knew i had done the wrong thing, almost immediately, but couldn't seem to stop myself. Luckily, i had an escape clause, of sorts. I used the house inspection report as my out. There was really nothing too terribly wrong with the house that should have caused me to back out. Some minor things, but i said they were unacceptable, and the deal was dead. I felt such relief. And learned a valuable lesson, about acting impulsively.
I had decided to make the decision of where to move to by my birthday in May. I had already made my choices of where i wanted to look. When i was having my computer rebuilt, i used the one at the library. One time i was there, i stumbled across a book that gave you exercises on how to pick a small town to live in. I checked it, and started doing the exercises. I didn't have to worry about things likes schools or even employment opportunities. I just went for things i liked... good fishing, near a real city, educational opportunities, visually appealing, relatively low crime and affordable housing. I had decided to limit my search to North Carolina and Arizona.
I was going to go to Arizona back in February, but the American Airlines pilots messed me up. Then i was going to wait till after my son Greg had his MRI in March, till he told me he didn't want me in Minneapolis for that. So..... i decided i had waited long enough for everyone else, and made the plans to go while Greg was having his MRI. But, first i had to go to Asheville. I had planned on a long weekend there, but the weather spoiled those plans. I still didn't get the feeling that i had hoped for there.
I had emailed a realtor in Payson, AZ after i had seen one of her listings on the web. She wrote me back, and told me that that house had been taken off the market but when i came to that area, she would be happy to show me around. I emailed her, and told her when i would be there. I had received a packet of information on Prescott and emailed a realtor from there. I had everything in order. I took my notebook that i had done about what i was looking for, but had really decided, i was just on a fact finding mission. Check out the areas, and most likely, go back to Asheville for a second look.
The first full day in Phoenix i spent with an irc friend. We met for breakfast, and then because he didn't have any appointments that day, wandered the mall. We talked and i think he knew my mind was elsewhere, because he's a psychologist and a minister and knew what was going on in my life. Finally, we went back to the motel, and i called the house, left a message for them to call me as soon as they knew anything. He left, and i waited. Evelyn called me, to say they hadn't found anything, which is good, but that they were still concerned and were going to do another MRI in May. I left for Prescott the next morning in a great mood.
I got there, and missed the turn the realtor had told me to take, but that was ok, since it didn't take more than 90 minutes to drive there. The speed limit on the interstate was 75 almost the whole way, and i drove and enjoyed the incredible scenery. That was before i had learned that saguro cacti didn't grow above 3000 ft. I drove through the town, went to the Chamber of Commerce office and library, and then to meet with the realtor. I didn't like any of what he showed me at first, so we went back to his office, and he pulled up some more listings, and off we went again.
As soon as we drove up to this house, i had positive feelings. Then we went in... and i felt like i was home. It wasn't there furnishings, as the home was simply furnished. It was everything.. the views, the kitchen, the master bedroom, the jacuzzi tub in the second bathroom..... i wandered around the house, the yard. Everything felt so right. When we left, after a good half hour of looking around and asking the owners questions, we went back to the office to write up the offer. I started getting nervous, but not like before. I told the realtor not to submit the offer till the next morning, that i needed to sleep on it.
I went back to the motel room after getting some dinner. I thought. And thought. And made a list of pros and cons about the house, the town. I slept restlessly, getting up around 6 am. Part of that might have been the time difference, but i think it was the house. Then it hit me. I loved the house. That was more important that the town, since most towns are so similar. I called the realtor and told him to make the offer. I had reserved the computer at the library, and went there. Emailed some friends via hotmail. When my hour was up, i went to the realtor's office, since i missed the turn to my motel. He said, they accepted the offer. The house was on it's way to being mine!! I had an appointment with a loan officer later in the day, and he said he saw no problems with my qualifying. I wandered around the old part of Prescott in the afternoon, looking at antiques, and checking out my new home. I found a place that sells vienna hot dogs. I went in and had one. Not quite the same as Flukys, but.... pretty good. And i knew i had made the right decision.
I went on to Payson, and went out with the other realtor. As soon as i drove into the area, i knew it wasn't for me. I showed interest in the houses, but felt so much better about MY house now. I also decided to go back to North Carolina early, now that i had all these things to do. I found my next place to live, and had to start making all the arrangements to get me and my stuff out there. This is one place though, my house in Prescott, i plan on spending a long time living in. Of course, knowing me.. you can't ever be certain.
©16 March, 1999What do you think of when you hear Arizona? Cactus? Intense heat? The desert and may I have a glass of water please? Well, some of Arizona is like that but not where I live. I live in the mountains, a mile above sea level, across the street from a national forest. Right now, it is snowing. This is not a good snow, because a good snow melts by noon. This is a very bad snow, and by the time it's done, there should be a foot of the white stuff on the ground. Falling snow is beautiful, but shoveling it sucks. Isn't my dislike of snow and winter in general why I moved here in the first place?
I do love my house though, and the views I have. Every room in the house has lots of windows, so I get a great view from anywhere, as well as the breezes in the summer. I have a big master bedroom with a walk in closet and a cedar closet. There's a bathroom off the bedroom, with a big open shower. And there's even a bidet. So very continental.
The kitchen is big and airy, not that I do much cooking anymore. Lots of counter space and cabinets. Plus a pantry to store food. Then there's a great room with a fireplace and a dining room that I'll never use for that use. Off to the other side are two more bedrooms and a bath that has a bathtub with a jacuzzi. I have my office in the front bedroom, overlooking the Mingus Mountains and Prescott Valley. Okay, not an office but where I keep my computer. An office sounds so much more dignified.
The yard requires almost no up keep, as it is all rock. No lawn to mow. My back yard opens up to the hill which is still in its natural state of vegetation and no one can build behind me. The house to the north of me is higher up on the hill than mine so I don't even see it. And the lot next to me is vacant. I wish I could afford to buy it.
There isn't very much furniture here because the things I want from the house in Minnesota are still there. My ex would ship them out but neither of us has made the effort. Last summer when I was in Minnesota, he said I should call a moving company and get estimates, but I didn't. To be honest, those things really aren't right for this style of house. I have lots of antiques, and they just wouldn't be right, decoratively speaking. Or maybe I just want new things that won't remind me of my old life. I have a sofa and chair I bought in North Carolina, and two beds. A desk and chair I bought in Portland Maine, which happens to be antique, so I guess I just lost that argument. A table to eat at and some little tables around the house. There are 3 bookcases, which are nowhere near enough, but I am thinking about having some built in if I stay here.
Yes, I am thinking about moving again. Even though I have made an excellent start at being part of the community and making friends. Even though for the most part, I do love Prescott and the small town atmosphere here. Everything I want is here, except my children. What I might do is wait to see where Evelyn goes to grad school and then make a decision. But for right now, Prescott, Arizona is where I live and am making my home.
©14 February, 2001Normally, I stay at home on Saturdays. It's when all the families and working people go out and run their errands. Today however, I had a meeting to go to and I needed also to go to the post office. I had a package to send to my daughter and a letter to mail to Canada. It now costs sixty cents to send a letter to Canada, and I didn't have any loose postage to make up that amount. I used to have a folder with all sorts of old stamps ranging from a penny to the current postage amount, but that's in Minnesota in a box somewhere.
Traffic was relatively light for a Saturday in Prescott. It was mid 40s and sunny and I put Jil Caplan in the tape player and drove on into town. Even past Frontier Village, where Target and Walmart are, traffic wasn't too bad. I stayed in the right hand lane knowing I was veering off to Sheldon Avenue instead of staying on Gurley Street. I went into the left hand lane once on Sheldon only to switch back to the right lane because there was a major accident on the other side of the street. There were several police cars, an ambulance and a fire engine. Of course traffic slowed down to look at the accident, but I couldn't really see any smashed up cars or people hurt. Once past the accident, I went back into the left lane and proceeded to the post office.
Prescott has two post offices. The downtown one is closed on Saturday, so I went instead to the main one. The one where I go to pick up packages and to get my held mail. It's always a zoo, and today was no exception. The parking lot was full, so I waited at the entrance till I saw a car leave. I parked, and went inside.
This post office has a number system to manage waiting on people, like in a bakery. They were now serving number 19 and I was number 41. At least they had four clerks working, which is one less than they have stations for. I've been there when it was just as busy and there was only one clerk.
The majority of people there were over sixty five, which is representative of the total population. There was one young man with dreadlocks, and a few mothers with young children. Several people had struck up conversations with the person sitting next to them, so the noise level was high. I stood over a counter looking at the new stamps for this year. I really liked the prairie series and the quilt ones. I watched people come in with their packages and wait. I watched people walk out with stamps, packages or just empty handed. There was an elderly lady who couldn't have been five feet tall. She wanted to mail a package just about as big as her. There was what looked like a mother with her son, the son being around my age, and they spent a long time at the counter. A man who came and stood next to me commented on how he felt like he was lining up at a bar. I didn't notice a woman friend of mine come in, but when I did see her, it was just about my turn so I just spoke to her briefly.
Upon hearing number 41 called, I took my package up to the clerk, bought my stamps and left, saying goodbye to my friend. I had spent approximately twenty minutes there, which wasn't that bad. I was no longer in the mood to go to my meeting and started my drive home. I went past the accident scene, which was now cleared up. Except I saw a police office with his lights on ahead of me, so I stopped and watched him try to get on the street from above the curb. I noticed in my rear view mirror he still had his lights flashing and he made a U turn in the middle of the street, but then he was out of my view. I hope I won't have to go back to the post office for a while.
©10 February, 2001Today was the third annual volunteer recognition picnic for Child Haven. Child Haven is a crisis nursery but it's different from most as it serves the children by placing them in homes with families rather than a shelter. The picnic was held at the Prescott Zoo. The day was warm but there was a nice breeze and we had the covered area reserved for our group. Here in Arizona that space is called a ramada. I got there a little before 11 am, when the picnic was scheduled to start, thinking the board president would be there and might need help in setting up. I was wrong. There was a client family there, so I talked to a single father of four, while we waited for the rest of the group to show up.
The zoo is on the other side of town from where I live, near Embry Riddle University and the Prescott Airport. Yes, we have an airport too. What an amazing town Prescott is. There are no signs warning you that the zoo is up ahead, so if you blink, you'll miss the sign that says ZOO. I just about did, but luckily the pickup truck behind me saw me slam on the brakes and an ugly accident was avoided.
I had my official Child Haven name tag on, so I was admitted to the zoo for free. Child Haven was paying for everything. We even had a docent to give us a guided tour, but I passed on that. I sat with Julie and the board treasurer, Kathy, for a while, then decided to go off and look at the lemurs and see if the tiger was awake. When I was at the zoo the month prior with my daughter, we had spent a long time watching the lemurs, but the tiger was sleeping in the back. This time, I watched the lemurs groom each other and two of them drink, but the tiger was hiding in the house.
I went back to the ramada, and Julie was in a panic because the food hadn't arrived yet. Just as the people were coming back from the tour, the food appeared and everyone sat down to eat and talk. There was much segregation in the groups. I sat with two other board members. The host families sat alone with their families. The clients sat alone with their families. I think next year we need to change that, so we all get to know each other. At least have name tags for them so the board knows who is who.
After lunch, there were awards and prizes. Everyone got a prize, with the kids getting several. I received an award for my work on the board, and also accepted one on behalf of the Monday Club, as we donate to Child Haven. Small surprise, since Julie was past Monday Club president. Between the two of us, we will make sure that the Monday Club continues donating to Child Haven. My prize was a $5.00 gift certificate to a local paint your own plate store.
One of the client's daughters was having her 7th birthday. She was all dressed up in white with fancy white shoes. We bought a cake that said happy birthday and sang to her. The cake was good even though it was white cake, and as I walked out to the car, she asked her daddy how everyone knew it was her birthday. He said with as straight a face as he could manage, he didn't know.
It was a lovely event and I was glad I attended. The company, the weather, the food, everything was outstanding. Before I left, I walked back to the tiger's space. He was out pacing, and I got to watch him for about five minutes before he went into the house and out of the heat. The lemurs were resting so I said goodbye to them and drove back home. Another wonderful Saturday in Prescott.
©28 April, 2001I am no marathoner, nor do I have any aspirations to be one. Yesterday was the 23rd annual Whiskey Row marathon and I participated. I have the number I wore on my chest and a blue ribbon for completing the race on my bulletin board to prove it to anyone that doubts me.
Several weeks ago, my friend Elaine showed me the brochure about the race. She is ten years older than me and from the suburb next to where I used to live in Minnesota, but I didn't know here back there. I met her when she joined AAUW, and we just hit it off. I looked at the brochure and said, sure, let's do it. Ok, we were talking about the 2 mile fun walk. So she went and signed us up and we waited anxiously for the big day. We both really wanted the t-shirt.
I called her the in the morning of day before, wanting to know where we should meet. No answer, so I left a message. Around 8 pm that night, I began to worry that I hadn't heard from her. Her husband is on the list for a heart transplant, so I began to fear something had happened to him. At 8:45, I called again and left another message, this time saying to call me up till 10:30. I thought, well, if she doesn't call, then I don't have to walk in the race. But really I was hoping everything was ok on her end.
She called me back about 10 minutes later, very apologetic. They had company and had been out most of the day and when they were home, hadn't looked at the answering machine. I said I was just glad everything was ok. We decided to meet at the Monday Club parking lot at 6:50 am and then I would drive the few blocks to downtown. We'd then go to the St. Michael's hotel and register by the 7:15 am deadline and get our t-shirts.
Saturday morning I awoke before the alarm went off. I threw on some clothes, brushed my teeth and hair, had a banana, took my medications and waited forty minutes before I had to go meet her. She was there waiting for me, and I was a few minutes early. We found a parking place not too far from the courthouse square and walked up a slight hill to the St. Michael. It was fairly crowded with people, most of whom were registering that day. We just walked up to the 2 mile sign and got our numbers and then got our t-shirts. For the 2 mile walk, we were supposed to get short sleeved t-shirts, but they offered us either kind. We both picked the short sleeved one, it being summer and who would believe we'd actually ran the marathon.
We sat in the ballroom of the hotel watching people and just talking. The marathoners had already left, and it was the 10 and 5K people milling around. We pinned our numbers on, and went outside to await the start of our event. The other races started 10 minutes apart, and we were up at 7:40. We watched the 10K'ers stretch and jog in place till it was their turn. Then the 5Kers. Then we were called up to the starting line. An air horn signaled GO and off we went.
We were sort of near the back of the group and that was fine with us. Elaine pointed out a woman on crutches and said jokingly, she hoped we could keep ahead of her. Neither of us are in the best of shape and I hadn't done any walking to get ready for this. Traffic stopped for us as we walked down Montezuma Street. She pointed out the Girl Talk studio where I'd won the gift certificate at the Child Haven picnic just last week. I showed her where a barbeque restaurant used to be that I had wanted to take Lowell.
Then we saw it. A hill. A big hill. I could get really dramatic and say a mountain, but it wasn't. When we got to the top, we were a little out of breath, but not even thinking about giving up. We passed a trio of senior citizens and then another walker. We weren't at the end of the group! Walking and talking and enjoying the beautiful weather and scenery was a nice change for a Saturday morning. At the corner of Montezuma and Copper Basin we turned around, completing one mile of our walk. The people in the other races went up Copper Basin and the marathoners even went into the forest, twice having to climb to 7000 foot elevations. Actually, four times, considering them coming back that way.
On the other side of the street was our first water station. We both took paper cups of water, even though I had a water bottle in my pocket and had drank from it a few times already. The street was littered with cups but we drank our water slowly and ended up throwing them in garbage cans. Must be the Minnesota nice influence. Another turn onto Carleton and we were in the home stretch. Crossing the finish line our time was forty-one minutes and a few seconds. Much to our surprise, we got the blue ribbon at that point.
We walked around a little to unwind and look at the booths of free stuff. We each had a quarter of a bagel and some orange sections. I took some samples of sun screen for us. They were offering free massages and the people were just standing there, but Elaine refused to go and take advantage of one. Me, I don't care that much for massages.
It was with some exhaustion from having to get up and about that early and lots of pride that we walked back to my car. I threw all my stuff in the back seat and dropped her off by her car and then went home. I knew Lowell wasn't at home, so I couldn't call him and brag. I called Evelyn in her dorm room but no answer. So I called her on her cell phone and shared my "big" accomplishment with her. She was sufficiently proud of me. It was just another Saturday in Prescott.
©6 May, 2001There is an exclusive group of women known as Ladies who Lunch. Their primary purpose, besides their club and committee work, is having lunch out with friends and associates. I am one of those ladies.
We don't work, so we have plenty of time for doing good works. While most of the women my age were climbing up the corporate ladder, I climbed up the ladder of volunteering. I've chaired many committees in many different organizations. Technically, I've never had a job. A paying job, that is. I have worked on galas and fund raisers and newsletters and selling and mailings and taken minutes and studied financial reports. I've sat on committee after committee. I do have a resume listing all my volunteer activities over the past twenty years. I have to write them down, because I can no longer remember every one.
Yesterday, I went to a typical ladies who lunch luncheon. Combined with the meal was a fashion show. Ladies who lunch, in theory, love fashion shows. So we can find something to wear to our next luncheon, I suppose. This one was in my neighborhood, so I knew many of the ladies there. One is in the Monday Club with me, two are in my YLI classes. A few others were in other organizations I belong to. It was quite festive and despite everything, I did enjoy myself.
I became a Lady who Lunched in Memphis. My children were a little older and they had this wonderful day care at churches, called Mother's Day Out. For a few dollars a time, you could leave your child in a safe environment and go do your good deeds. Since it lasted from 9:30 to 2 or 2:30, well, of course you had to eat lunch. After a committee meeting, or volunteering somewhere, it was the expected thing for the women to go out as a group.
Then, as you made closer friends, you made dates to just go out with them for lunch. Separate from committees, it was a time to sit and talk about life, children, husbands, or whatever. There was a restaurant in Memphis that was started for Ladies who Lunch by a small group of Ladies who Lunch. Whenever you went there, you were certain to see other women you knew.
I was still a Lady who Lunched in Minneapolis. More so with my friends than with large groups, it was an unusual week that I did not lunch out at least once with a friend. We would try different restaurants and linger for hours, talking. There would still be organized luncheons, and committee luncheons to attend. That was part of our job, after all.
When I lived in Maine and North Carolina, that part of my life was put aside. For good, I had thought. But now that I'm in Prescott, I am once again, a Lady who Lunches. I do my committee and volunteer work here, just the same as in Memphis and Minneapolis, and follow it up with lunch out with friends. Yesterday was the fashion show luncheon, and today I am joining a good friend for lunch and chatting. On Tuesday, I had lunch with a different friend. On this past Monday, I caught up with fellow Monday Club women and joined them for lunch.
I am surprised at how easily I slipped back into this role, considering how I am no longer the person I used to be.
©27 September, 2001Sunday night was my neighborhood's annual Chuck wagon dinner. I attended more or less alone and had a fairly good time. The food was good, though none of us liked the dessert, which claimed to be peach cobbler. The dinner consisted of oak smoked beef, bar-be-que chicken, biscuits, caesar salad with tortilla chips instead of croutons and roasted red potatoes. All that for $15.00. This price also included music provided by a three member country band and dancing, if you wanted, after the meal.
I went with a group of people from the neighborhood's singles group. Back in January, when I was determined to give Prescott every opportunity to convince me this should be my home, I decided to get involved in the neighborhood association activities. I signed up to participate in the Ladies Lunch group and the Singles group. There are other activities, like two book discussion groups, but I decided against those, even though I love to read. I'm already in a book discussion group I seldom attend.
I'd been contacted right after the Single's group started, but it was too soon after Greg's death for me to even think about meeting new people. Each month when the neighborhood newsletter came out, I'd read about their activities, but wasn't prompted to make the effort to actually attend one of their functions.
That January night, I drove the mile down to the clubhouse. I don't recall much about the meeting except that there were no men worth getting excited over, and there was one woman who didn't shut up the entire time. I found out they get together several times a month besides for that meeting. They go out for dinner at different restaurants in town. They have gone on trips and to the new race track and have an annual mystery event. They also go as a group to the neighborhood functions such as the chuck wagon dinner and the holiday events. As far as I can tell, no romances have blossomed among the people.
Naturally, I am closer to the women than the men. Right after that first meeting, was my first ladies lunch. I ended up having lunch with three of the single women I'd met a few days earlier. One of the ladies was in my most recent Yavapai Learning Institute class. She's a classy lady and I am very fond of her. I wish she'd hook up with George, since he's the best looking of the men. The others, well…… maybe I'm just too young for the group in that respect. I know I am not that desperate.
Our next outing will be dinner at a Chinese restaurant. It should be interesting, because to me, that means everyone ordering something different and sharing all the plates of food. The women won't mind just splitting the bill, assuming we do this, but I can see the men complaining about it. Maybe we'll each just pick one entrée and that will be what we eat, but that won't be as much fun. Or, I suppose we could get one of those family dinners, with one from column A and two from column B. I'll know next week.
I don't think you could tell our table was made up of single people. There were three men to five women, so we could have been couples. Everyone was dressed in their western finery. Not me, really, though I did wear a skirt. I didn't have on any turquoise jewelry, no fringe on my clothes and no boots. It was very warm for October, so I wore a tank top with a denim shirt over it, and a skirt. I'll never wear outfits like some women wore, because I'd feel so silly in it.
I wonder if I'll be here for next year's Chuck wagon dinner. If I had to decide right now, I'd move. I really miss the east coast. I don't have to do anything till I'm ready and who knows when that will be. As for now, I have the Thanksgiving and the Christmas dinners on my calendar and am planning on attending with the singles group. I'm lucky to have found this group to get me out and doing new things, and to have made one very good friend, too. ©16 October, 2001There are more stories I have written to read. Please remember these are my original stories and thoughts, and to copy or otherwise use them without my permission is a copyright violation. I would love to hear your random thoughts on any of these stories.