a laundry revelation

When I sold my house and moved to my apartment, almost a year ago now, I though that the one thing I would dislike the most would be doing my laundry in a public laundry room in the basement. But I didn't realize until today, when I did a couple of loads of laundry at my daughter's house (having to treck up and down their basement stairs six times and wait to run a second load 'til the first was washed), how spoiled I've become.  It's very nice to be able to ride an elevator down to a room that is always kept shiny clean and do two or sometimes three loads of laundry at the same time. Since I'm one of the lucky retired ones I can do my laundry any weekday morning and know that there will always be washers and dryers available. Funny how something that seemed so strange a year ago has now become a convenience.

more differences between then and now

It occurred to me, after I was in bed last night (as these things often do) than another difference between 50 years ago and now is that back then we snarfed down donut holes - such a fun little treat. Now we talk about being "in the donut hole" - not fun at all.

Today another age indicator was brought to my attention. Two of my granddaughters, ages 12 and 13, are having a sleepover with me tonight and we spent a couple of hours at the pool this afternoon. I "swam" (and i do use the term loosely) for about 30 minutes, they were still going strong after two hours.  I climbed carefully in and out of the pool using the steps and railing provided for us old folks - once in, once out. They, choosing to ignore steps and ladders, used their arms to hoist themselves out of the pool, then jumped back in. They repeated this performance over and over again. Ah youth.

50 years later

I attended a really lovely 50th anniversary celebration for two dear fiends this weekend and hosted three friends for the weekend who also attended the event. It was really fun to have time to visit with several friends and acquaintances and catch up on the latest in their lives. I can't help reflecting though on what a turn our conversations have taken in 50 years. Back then it was all about who we would marry, when we would finish college, would we get a job - most likely teaching for the women, what music we liked, should we try smoking and drinking and, if we were really looking ahead, how many children we might like to have. We would never have dreamed of discussing things like aches and pains, missing teeth, thinning hair (women really don't like this), fragile bones and dietary restrictions. Of course there is a really good side to 50 years gone by. While our bodies have played dirty tricks on us we can share stories of children and, wonder of wonders, grandchildren. Gray hair and wrinkles are so worth it.

Back to school

All of my grandchildren are heading back to school next week. The four of them (two sets of cousins) will be a sophomore, a freshman, an eighth grader and a seventh grader. The sophomore tells me he's most looking forward to solar astronomy, American sign language, band and lunch. The other three, all girls, are more interested in a little last minute back to school clothes shopping. The freshman will be attending school where her mom teaches French and, needless to say, will be taking French. I remember "back to school" as a student and later as a teacher. This time of year I always get a little twinge of longing for the excitement of that first day. Happily I usually get over the feeling very quickly, A glass of wine helps.

Retirement was such a wise decision.

Back at my old job today and everyone was so nice, excited to see me back. And it was fun, in a way, and yes, after a little while, I remembered how to use the systems. Turns out that what they really need my help with is the up coming news letter. I can do this. Assembling one more newsletter is possible. But, as I kept stressing to everyone today, this is only very short term. The only thing I was faced with this morning that I knew I couldn't deal with was the chair the new communication editor uses. I've never seen anything quite like it.  It looked like a giant ball on wheels with a tiny little back piece. Probably wonderful for your posture or something but I could only imagine myself rolling right off onto the floor. Happily our head maintenance man, who let me into the office, took one look at the chair, said "You can't sit on that." and immediately replaced it with a more traditional office chair, which looks suspiciously like the one I used to use. Welcome home indeed.

Back to work???

I'm going back to work tomorrow - but only for three weeks I hope.  The young lady who took over my job when I retired 18 months ago (and has been doing a wonderful job) was in a car accident some weeks ago, and, while she came away without any broken bones, she did sustain a rather nasty concussion which is taking a while to heal. For the next few weeks she's not supposed to look at computer screens or much of anything else so I have agreed to come back - very part time - to help with the bulletin and newsletter. I'm happy to be able to help but I have this dreadful feeling that I will sit down in front of her computer tomorrow and not remember anything about how to do the job. After all, I've spent a year and a half firmly putting all that stuff out of my mind and I think I've reached the age when forgetting is much easier than remembering.

Haggis and high kicks

Toward the end of our trip our guide performed a Haggis ceremony (see top picture).  The haggis was brought out with some ceremony and Jim proceeded to cut into it while reciting a lengthy poem by Robert Burns is praise of haggis. This was supposed to be accompanied by a bag piper but he didn't show up so some of our number found bagpipe music on their phones. In case you don't know haggis is bits and pieces of meat scraps mixed with oatmeal, stuffed in a sheep's stomach and cooked.  Everybody seems really grossed out by this but think about what sausage is made of and stuffed in and it won't seem so bad.  They served the haggis as an appetizer - a layer of mashed potatoes, a layer of haggis, a layer of mashed turnips (neeps) all covered with a gravy seasoned with whisky, actually quite good. The four of us who had gone to London first decided that this was the night to wear our "Kinky Boots" t-shirts, so here we are. "Kinky Boots" was an excellent play, great music, funny lines and a good underlying message about accepting all sorts of people. "Ladies, Gentlemen and those who haven't made up their minds yet..." was a frequently repeated refrain.