Most likely you followed the link from my first, fifth or fourteenth page of Random Thoughts stories. And, as always, your comments are appreciated.
This is the big night. It's almost like you wait 12 years for it, and it is more important than graduation, getting your driver's license, your first date and even getting your acceptances to college. At least, if you are a girl it is. My beautiful daughter is resting now, so she will be able to be awake for the whole evening. I hope it's as wonderful as she thinks it will be.
I am remembering back to my Prom Night. Frank and I argued about whether to go to the Prom or to Grad Night, which was at Disneyland. He of course, wanted to go to Grad Night. I wanted to go to the Prom. Not that I particularly cared for school dances. I didn't. We had never gone to one before. It was the tradition, being able to say I had gone to my Prom that counted. So, we compromised and went to both.
This was May 1969. I wore a white lace dress, which I still have. I asked Evelyn to consider wearing it, but she wants to wear her black plastic dress. It's about as opposite an outfit to mine as you can have, but she's her own person, and she will look terrific in it. The theme of our Prom was "Age of Aquarius". The picture of Frank and I taken at the dance show us in front of a big painting of the zodiac. He looked nervous, and I look bored. Her Prom's theme is "Stir it Up", and has a reggae theme. She will probably have a group picture taken.
Our prom was held in the gym. But to prove it was a special night, groups of kids went out to dinner at fancy restaurants. We went to Edna Earle's Fogcutter in Hollywood. I don't remember what we had, but knowing us, we would rather have gone to Tommy's for a burger. Evelyn and her friends are all going to a Matt's house and fixing dinner, and then the Prom at a downtown hotel. Then they are going back to another friend's house to watch videos. She will sleep over at a friend's so I won't get to hear about it till tomorrow.
For a while, she wasn't sure she was going. For some reason, boys seem intimidated by Evelyn. Or perhaps she is too picky. But she was very worried about who would ask her to the dance. She screwed up the courage to invite this popular boy she really liked, but he turned her down. Someday he will be sorry. Then her girlfriends got together, as only girls can do, and found someone who asked her. He seems like a nice boy, but it won't be the same as going with that special boy. When my Prom came along, Frank and I had been dating for 6 months. We were madly in love. He probably wouldn't meet Evelyn's high standards. He wasn't terribly good looking, but he was a great kisser. But you don't need to know about that.
After the Prom, we went to the beach, and walked around for a while. The Prom itself was a disappointment and we left early. Basically, it was another school dance, just with fancier decorations and better food. I didn't like dances back then. I thought the whole business of getting all dressed up, getting your hair fixed, and spending all this money was silly. We were the last class at my high school that had a dress code. We thought it was cool to not list our activities under our senior pictures in the Yearbook. Some of us were already taking drugs, politically active, against the war, and didn't like traditional things. It was certainly not the most fun Frank and I ever had, but still, I am glad I went. So I could tell my daughter about it. I think she will have fun, because she is going with a large group of friends. And she will definitely have memories of that special night, to tell her daughter. And isn't that what traditions are really about??
©16 May 1997If you think about it, travel is amazing. You can wake up in one place, and go to bed half way around the world. You can see flowers and green and be standing in snow several hours later. There is something about travel that frees you.
Yesterday, I was on an airplane to Minneapolis from Raleigh. The distance between the two cities is approximately 1300 miles. Were I a pioneer in a covered wagon, it would have taken me months to make this trip. There would have been plenty of time to see the scenery. Had I driven, it would have taken me about 3 days. The fastest way is all interstate, so you see very little as you speed past. Flying, it took about two and a half hours in the air.
The flight yesterday was thankfully, mostly uneventful. For a while, it was uncertain the plane would leave on time. There was a group of rather loud women in the back who were on their way to Reno. I sat about 7 rows in front of them. I watched heads turn around as they laughed loudly and frequently at their own jokes. The plane was mostly empty, and I had all 3 seats to myself. So I got to look out the window, something I seldom do anymore, preferring to sit on the aisle.
I watched as we left Raleigh. As the plane lifted off the ground, I silently prayed that everything would go well. Once I'm in the air, I'm fine. It's just taking off and landing that scare me. Slowly we rose above the trees, the houses, the cars. They kept getting smaller, until they looked like toys. Then we were over what must have been the Blue Ridge mountains. From 31,000 feet they didn't look like much. Just big piles of dirt. Having been in those mountains, I know that is not the case. But flying makes everything seem small and unreal and insignificant.
There was a river winding and towns all along the sides. Then nothing for miles. The roads look like string. Farmland looks like puzzle pieces. Clouds are amazing, since you are flying above them, and you can see their shadow on the ground. They appear to be cotton balls. For a while, the land was hidden by clouds. Big white cotton hiding the ground. It looks as though you could jump on them or sleep on them. As far as the eye could see, clouds. If there were angels hiding in the clouds, I didn't see any.
Finally we were approaching Minneapolis. Reality was setting in, as the trees started getting larger, buildings came into view. We flew in from the south, and you could see the mighty Mississippi River, to the east, looking like a brownish line. South of the Twin Cities is slowly being developed, so there are still farms and open areas. If you come in from the west, you fly over the lakes and can see downtown. When the engine seems to stop as you get closer to landing, I tense up again. I only calm down after the plane has slowed and is heading towards the gate. I love watching the people rush to get their belongings and then wait and wait to get off.
I was in a bit of a hurry this time. My children were waiting for me. I walked off the plane glad that I had arrived home safely, but still in awe of the sights I had seen while soaring though the skies at 500 miles per hour. Makes you wonder, doesn't it?
© 9 April, 1997I recently took up fly fishing. It relaxes me, and helps me escape from the real world with all it's problems. I'm not much of a flyfisher, skillwise, but I make up for it with enthusiasm. There are a few rivers in the world that are famous for fly fishing. I was fortunate enough this summer to fish in Montana, in the Madison and the Gallatin Rivers. The experience was incredible and something I will never forget, as was the scenery and the fact I caught my first fish there. But the river most fly fishers care about is the Battenkill. It runs through Vermont and New York.
I happened to be in Manchester, Vermont, partly to go to the outlet stores. I had been there the previous winter with my daughter, while she was visiting a college in that area. Unlike most outlet centers, Manchester's stores are all spread out, and it is impossible to walk from one to another. There were only two stores I wanted to go to, the Bass outlet for shoes and the Orvis store. To my dismay, the Orvis store isn't an outlet store, but it is where they are headquartered, and where they make their rods. I could have taken a tour of their rod making facility, but I didn't. Maybe another time.
I did visit the American Fly Fishing Museum. When we had been there before, Evelyn and I weren't flyfishers, so it never occured to us to visit it. It was just as well, since it is only open May to October. They show old reels, have displays of flies and other items related to fly fishing. They feature famous people who were flyfishers. They had rods that had been owned by presidents, athletes and other celebrities. I guess most people wouldn't find it interesting, but it really was.
As I was driving out of Manchester, I got my first glimpse of the Battenkill. You don't say Battenkill River, because Kill means river in Dutch. The desire to get out my rod and get into the water started to form, but I didn't have a license. I have only been asked once to show my license, in Montana when we got off the Madison with the guides. I think the fishery warden waited for people to be done floating the river. So I continued driving.
The small country road I was on ran parallel to the Battenkill. I got many views of the river, and each time I wanted to stop and fish. I had bought a poster at the Museum of a man fishing in the Battenkill, in front of a red covered bridge. I drove right past the bridge, but while tempting, I resisted. I would have done it, had there been someone to take a picture of me, but I was traveling alone. A few miles later, I finally succumbed and stopped and just watched it tumble and rush over the rocks.
I continued driving, the river twisting around me, sometimes on the right, sometimes on the left. There was an area with a fishing sign posted, and once again I stopped. I walked down to the river, and climbed down the rocks, and got into the water. It was cool and a little low, but it was a perfect spot to cast a rod. The temptation was great, but I resisted. I slipped off my shoes, waded a bit in the river, and imagined myself in my gear, my new rod in my hand, and roll casting for a big brown trout. The sun was filtering through the trees, casting shadows on the water and the only sounds I heard was of birds singing.
I sat on some rocks by the river's edge a while while my pant's legs dried off a bit, just reflecting on the river, the scenery and life in general. It was time to go, but before I left, I took a rock from the river. It looks like quartz, but I'm not sure. It will be a reminder of a peaceful summer's day and the short time I had by the Battenkill. Next time I am there, I will fish the river. Maybe not that exact spot, but wherever I fish, I will remember with fondness my first visit to the Battenkill.
© 13 August, 1997Like most people, I take modern conveniences for granted. And why shouldn't I? They were invented to make life easier for people. So when my landlords started redoing my kitchen, many inconveniences were forced upon me. Some I managed to work around, like having the refrigerator right next to the computer. It made it all too convenient to get a can of soda pop. But having the stove in the middle of my living room, and for almost 2 weeks, was more than annoying.
I know it was not intentional on their part to force me to be creative in preparing my meals. Or altering the look of my living room. I managed just fine in finding things I could microwave (another one of life's necessities) and I ate a lot of sandwiches. I never went hungry or unsatisfied. Until I started thinking about scrambled eggs.
I don't want to brag, but I am an excellent cook. I can create a meal out of almost anything, follow the most elaborate recipe or make a simple thing like scrambled eggs a delicacy. I had a craving for scrambled eggs. And I don't ever fix eggs in a microwave. So the more I looked at the stove useless, the more I wanted scrambled eggs.
The first weekend they started working on the kitchen, they moved the appliances out of the kitchen. And installed new cabinets and a new countertop. I couldn't use them until Sue stained them But the I couldn't go into the kitchen, because Frank started putting the tile floor down. They tried their best to work as fast as they could, but sometimes nature didn't cooperate. On a Saturday when I would be out of town, I thought Frank would be there bright and early, and install the floor, and by Sunday night, be done. Instead, it was very foggy that day, and since he works for Fed Ex, he had to stay later than he had planned, so no work was done then. When I returned Sunday, I was dismayed to see only half the floor installed. And the stove and refrigerator still in the living room.
Then he took a day off of work to finish the floor, but, you can't walk on it for a few days till the grey stuff the tiles are laid on hardens. And then he had to grout it, which he did last Sunday. He promised me they would move the appliances back in on Tuesday. I took that with a grain of salt, because of how long it had taken to get the floor installed. But to my surprise, they came Tuesday night, and moved them both back in their proper places. I told Sue how I had wanted scrambled eggs for so long, and how I was going to fix them for breakfast tomorrow.
Wednesday, I woke up to a mostly empty living room, and the idea of eggs. First though, I had to move my microwave and my table into the kitchen. I wanted my first real breakfast eaten on the table I had assembled in my kitchen. With the sun shining through the lace curtain, and my ivy plant hanging in front of the window. I turned the electric stove on, and started mixing the eggs. Since I knew this was my breakfast and lunch, I had 3 eggs. I added a dash of milk. Used real butter in the frying pan. I don't have any pepper, or I would have added that, too. Then came the special touch. Extra sharp Vermont cheddar cheese, which I grated on top of the semi solid eggs. Just as the eggs were no longer wet, I turned them out on a plate. I also had a piece of oatmeal bread and a big glass of fresh orange juice.
Nothing fancy, nothing special. But they were delicious, prepared to perfection. The first bite, still hot from the stove, was heaven. I ate slowly, savoring the flavor, textures and tastes. I think I am so fortunate to be able to enjoy life's simple pleasures.
© 24 September, 1997As I got older and had more things to do, I found myself making lists. Not just grocery lists, because I didn't really need them. I usually bought the same things at the store. But lists of who to call, what to do and when to do it. I used to be so active in my community, that I could have 3 or 4 meetings in a day. Without a list, I would never have remembered everything I have to do. And with people to call, you can always delay that a day or so. I have to keep a list, so I don't forget. I even have a list of story ideas.
On Saturday, I'm going to Minneapolis, so I've started my usual pre-trip list. The first thing that goes on the list is money. You have to have money with you, even if you use credit cards. Second, is my pills. I can't forget them, as they are almost as important as the money. Probably more so, because I can't get more medicine while I can get money almost everywhere. Then comes the usual stuff, clothes. There isn't much I'm taking in the way of clothes. My winter coat is still in Minnesota. As are most of my clothes. So I am taking a suitcase and packing that in my suitcase. I have to remember some bills he has to reimburse me for, as they are still being forwarded to me, but they are his responsibility to pay. And I bought the kids some cute boxers at one of Freeport's outlet stores. They were for Halloween, but it would have cost me more to ship them than I paid for them. So I have packed them.
I have to add the things I need to get done before the trip. Like either returning my library books, or renewing them. They will be due 3 days before I get back, and I don't want the have an overdue fine. I meant to do that yesterday. But I didn't. Also on this list is getting an extra key made. My neighbor from downstairs is going to check in on Sylvie and make sure she has food and water. I'd just leave her my apartment key, except she might not be home when I get back, and I don't want to be locked out of my own apartment until she does return.
There are things I need to bring with me that you can only find in Maine. My daughter loves these certain pretzels I sent her for her birthday, so I need to go to the store to get some of those. I KNOW I saw this cheese spread, but now, I can't seem to find it. He likes that stuff, and since I'm staying at the house, I thought it would be a nice gesture. I'm going to 3 stores today to try and find it. Then I'm giving up. I'll bring him some maple syrup instead.
I had to make a list of email addresses and phone numbers. I won't be able to be online from there like I am here, but that will be a welcome change. I have to go no mail on the FF@ list, as well as Cheers. It's my dear friend Grant's birthday when I'm gone, so I will phone him that day. I love talking to him. He sounds just like Elvis. I suppose that is because he lives in Tupelo. There are some people I will want to keep in touch with, so I am so glad there is hotmail. I have to remember to write everyone and tell them to write me on that. I am pretty good at remembering email addresses, and phone numbers, but I like being able to see them. After the justjim fiasco, where I accidently sent mail three times to the wrong justjim@hotmail.com, I like to be sure of the correct address. Though I now have three new friends. Good thing they live in different parts of the country, so I think of them by location.
I also keep a list of things i need to add to my list. For example, I remembered when I was out before that I needed to add someone's phone number to my list. So I stopped, and toook out of a piece of paper and started a new list. I also keep paper by my bed so I can write down something at night. I seem to get my best ideas right before I go to bed, and if I don't write them down, I usually don't remember them in the morning. I even have a list on my computer, where I can stop what I'm doing, and add an item.
Most people keep lists to keep their lives organized. I am no different. But keeping lists of lists to keep, maybe be a bit extreme. I figure if it helps me manage my time and avoid stress, how can it be wrong??? I love crossing things I've accomplished off the list. And there is nothing wrong with leaving things to do to another day. That way I have something to start my next list with, something that makes me feel useful. Or at least organized.
©19 November 1997Today in class, the subject was change. At the beginning of the class, our teacher told us to gather up our stuff, and without saying a word, change seats. Since the very first class, pretty much everyone sits in the same seat. I sit to the left of Caroline and to the right of Viola. The room is set up in a rectangle, and we are on the shorter side. The teacher sits on one of the long sides, and the rest of the women on the other sides.
I looked at Caroline when we stood up. I really like her. She's a very pretty woman, and very smart. I enjoy sitting by her, and wasn't very happy about having to move. I chose quickly where i would sit, on the long side, next to my friend Jane. I saw Caroline and Viola go to the opposite short side and sit next to each other. I saw Janice sit in my seat. And i didn't like it. I didn't like facing the teacher, because it seemed like she was staring at me. I couldn't see the clock. But most annoying, was the noise from the class in the other room. It was driving me crazy.
At the break, i mentioned to the teacher that i didn't like where i was sitting. She thinks i am a troublemaker anyways, so she asked what i wanted to do. I asesertively said i wanted to change my seat. And i picked up my things, and went over and sat by Viola, though on the long side. The same side as the teacher. And Jane did the same thing, only on the other side. Now i could see the clock, didn't hear the other class. I was now by Viola and Caroline, and i could look out the window. Now if all of life's changes were this simple to transition through, we would all be much happier people.
©28 April 1998I just came back from the grocery store, where I picked up a few things I needed. I am not trying to stock up, because I will be moving in about 2 weeks, and am being very careful of what I buy. I don't want to buy anything extra. I did splurge though, and bought a loaf of cinnamon bread. This always takes me back to my childhood. When my mother wanted to get us a treat, we would get Burney Brothers cinnnamon bread. The cinnamon would start in the middle, and then in a spiral outward. The top was covered with a heavy layer of sugar and cinnamon. I loved that bread, but then we moved to California, and that was the end of cinnamon bread.
At least for several years. I did find some I liked a lot at Byerly's in Minnesota. Their bread was round, still swirled, and the outside was coated in sugar and cinnamon. I couldn't buy it too often, as between the 5 of us, it wouldn't last a day. We always would fight over the ends, which were completely covered in the sugar cinnamon mix. It's kind of like the turkey legs... there are only two ends of the bread. So to end the fighting before it started, I would eat the ends. Hey, I'm the mom, I can do that.
Today, I bought the grocery store brand of cinnamon bread. It's really good. Not as good as Burney Brothers, but then, what could be as good as something you remember from your childhood. It's different too than Byerly's. I needed a treat today, because it was hard to say good bye to my children yesterday. I know, food is not a good reward, but just this once, I felt entitled. I hope I can find good cinnamon bread in Raleigh. I have a feeling I will.
©17 July 1998I am just about done packing. I have boxes piled high in my living room and kitchen. My closets are empty. I am waiting for the movers to come and take everything out, and magically deliver it to my new apartment in Raleigh. Ok, so it's not magic, but at least I don't have to carry all this stuff up and down a flight of stairs at my advanced age. They have given me a 5 day time frame... somewhere between this Friday and next Tuesday. I am hoping for next Tuesday, because I planned to drive down next Wednesday, one week from today.
I've lived in Portland, on my own, for 11 months. I have learned a lot about myself, and most of it good. I can manage my money, handle minor crises, and take out the trash on a weekly basis. I am content existing on a diet of mostly vegetables and fruit, little meat but I must have my ice cream. I can sleep alone, without a tv in my room lulling me to sleep. I don't like eating out alone, and I have yet to see a movie by myself. Neither of these bother me. I will miss my view of the bay, the sounds of the sea gulls and fog horn, the smells of the bakery and ocean. This won't be my last move, I am sure. I think I am part gypsy.
When I was 12, my mother moved my brother and me out to California. She wanted to get my brother out of winters, and I think she wanted to leave behind the house where her husband died and all those memories. We took a two week cross country trip that summer of '63, visiting relatives until we reached Los Angeles. Our first full day in California was spent at Disneyland, and then we started looking for an apartment. My mom only lived in two apartments the whole time she was in California, the one on Oxnard Street and the one on Woodman, which she moved to after I left for college.
She drove me up to Berkeley the first time. I had figured out a way to afford dorm living, and was setting out to start my adult life up at Cal. I loved dorm life, though I never liked any of my roommates. At the start of my 3rd year, I rented an apartment with my best friend Ellen, and that experiment lasted a whole quarter. Luckily, our friendship has endured, and she is still my best friend. From there, I went to live with John, in an old house in Oakland with a bunch of guys from the campus radio station. Our relationship lasted 4 months, and when it was over, I ended up with Fred, my future former spouse. (I *still* love that phrase) Soon we were married, and my real traveling days started.
When my ex and I first got married, we moved around alot. Our first apartment as man and wife was a 3 story building in Oakland. We started out with 3 pieces of furniture. An antique secretary we bought up in the wine country of California, a captain's bed for a couch and a drop leaf table. The captain's bed is long gone, but the other two pieces are still around, back in Minnesota. Our first big move was up to Chico to finish college, and the bulk of our belongings was records. We rented a small Uhaul trailer to pull behind our van.
From Chico, we moved to Yuba City, Stockton, and then Atascadero. It was in Atascadero, I decided he should go to grad school, and our next move was to Chicago. That move was the first corporate move, where General Mills paid for the move. I remember the luxury of being 5 months pregnant, and telling them to be careful with that, to take that next. We had acquired a lot more stuff by then. I had begun my cookbook collection. And we had real furniture too. Then to Minneapolis, Memphis and back to Minneapolis. Our last move to Minneapolis, we filled a whole huge moving truck. We now had 3 kids and their stuff, plus our stuff, plus more real furniture and more cookbooks and more stuff. He's still there. I'm here, about to move on again. While there, we got more furniture (from my grandmother's apartment) and more stuff. The sunroom is full of boxes of my stuff... waiting to be shipped to me.
In one week, I will leave this apartment, the first one I ever rented and lived in by myself. I will start the two day drive to Raleigh and the start of my new life. I have spent the last week, filling cardboard boxes with my stuff. I know I should have thrown more away, put more in my Goodwill pile. But i'm a packrat, and it's hard for me to part with stuff. Back in Minneapolis, is a box full of my memories of growing up. It's got old report cards, and programs from high school football games and letters from old friends. If I could only have one box shipped to Raleigh... that would be it. None of it is useful. But it is important to me, nonetheless.
I think the most important thing about this move, is I really feel I am moving forward. I was fortunate enough to be able to afford this year in reflection, growth and introspection. Not everyone is able to do that, and I think I made good use of my time. I have moved from being a wife and mother to being me. I am becoming the person I was meant to be all along. I have learned and grown and blossomed here. I have come to terms with some parts of my life I needed to, and am now able to move past them. I did a lot of introspection and made the necessary changes. For the first time in my life, I like myself. I feel strong, competent and capable. Those things I will move with me wherever I go. Stuff comes and goes. The most important stuff I'm moving isn't in those boxes, it's inside me. And I'm about ready to leave and start new and this time, I know it will be a good and positive mood, because of what I am bringing with me.
©23 July 1998There 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.