Chasing Maggie Minx

I had dinner with a friend recently where we talked about a myriad of topics – from the mysterious rainstorm that deposited muddy dirt on cars all over Central Ohio – to tax preparation – to our arthritic knees. In between these eclectic subjects, we enjoyed delicious meals and drinks.

 

Somehow our conversation turned to pets that we’ve had through the years and we started talking about our various fur babies.

 

Of course, I couldn’t let a discussion about our pets not include a story or two about Maggie Minx. We laughed about all the times Maggie got loose in the neighborhood and all the lively chases that ensued because Maggie loved to run.

 

She’d take off like a shot if she found an escape route either out of the house or out of her harness. We’d see her pop up at the end of the cul-de-sac and moments later, she’d appear all the way at the other end of the street.

 

Most of the times our little escape artist got free were on Vince’s watch. I know he’s not here to defend himself, but he’d freely admit it if he were.

 

One time he and I were walking her together when he had leash duty. He wasn’t paying attention to her as she was sniffing the ground somewhere behind us, but he was pulling on the leash to keep her moving. She was stubbornly resisting as only Maggie Minx can.

 

I turned around just in time to see the entire harness/leash apparatus come over her head when Vince pulled on it. I think all three of us stood there momentarily frozen with our mouths open.

 

Naturally, Maggie was the first to understand that she was no longer required to trot along at the sedate pace we’d set – and she quickly stepped out of the harness and took off.  

 

We’d chase her. And then the neighbors would get involved. Treats were offered. (To the dog; not the neighbors.) And then another neighbor’s dog – with whom Maggie was best buds – would be brought out to join the chase to entice her home.

 

Nothing really worked until Maggie tired herself out and either came home on her own – or someone managed to scoop her up.

 

It was embarrassing.

 

I was pretty careful when I watched her and walked her. I didn’t leave the doors open for anything longer than 2.3 seconds – and, if I did, I strategically placed a leg in the doorway barricading her from possible escape. I didn’t let her back out of her harness – having seen it happen once, I was not about to let it happen again.

 

There were only a couple of times she broke free when she was my responsibility – and I would have to defend myself by saying that they were more mechanical failures than they were user errors.

 

One time was when we were walking and enjoying a beautiful warm, sunny spring day. Maggie was prancing along sniffing her neighbor doggie friends’ pee-mail and I was blithely unaware that a catastrophe was about to occur.

 

She stopped to leave a bit of pee-mail of her own when suddenly I noticed that I was holding the leash, but the other end was not attached to Maggie. It was another case of mouth open in frozen disbelief…but I was able to recover quickly and quietly walk up behind her and scoop her up in my arms before she realized she was not even remotely tethered to me.

 

Turns out the single D-ring on her harness had come apart with enough space to allow the clip on the leash to slip through.

 

Once my heartbeat returned to normal and we arrived home, I promptly tossed that harness into the trash and immediately ordered a harness with two “D” rings.

 

A backup D-ring is never a bad idea.

 

The second time Maggie Minx got loose on my watch was again technically a mechanical failure. I had put her outside on her dog run so I could vacuum in peace. She growls and bites ferociously at the hapless Hoover. Still does. Makes vacuuming ever so much fun.

 

Anyway, I finished my chores and headed out to get Maggie only to see her tearing off down the street with about a foot of plastic-coated cable bouncing merrily along behind her.

 

The cable had somehow snapped in two and, while the stake and most of the cable was still firmly planted in the ground, the hook and the rest of it was now attached to Maggie’s harness.

 

Oh sure - she looks all sweet and innocent

It was at this point that I seriously questioned why we were allowed to own a dog.

 

The facts are a bit blurry now, but I somehow got her back home and disengaged from the cable. How it snapped from the likes of a 10 lb Yorkie, I’ll never know.

 

When I finished telling tales about my little escape artist during dinner with my friend, I knocked against the wooden table and proudly stated that since I had been living at my new place, I’d never lost her.

 

I know I knocked firmly on that wooden table.

 

And then yesterday – not even a week later – Maggie escaped when she darted out of the sliding back door to the patio.

 

Plotting her next escape

It’s all because I’m tattling about Vince losing her so many times, isn’t it?!

 

This time it was definitely user error. I had walked Maggie earlier in the morning when it was still dark (darn Daylight Savings Time). Somehow Maggie picked up a piece of something, uh, no longer living – and promptly ate it before I could try to get it away from her. But, trust me, the Jaws of Life would have a hard time getting something out from between her clamped jaws if she doesn’t want to let go.

 

So I knew we were in for a rough day.

 

We came home and Maggie promptly threw up something nasty that I had to clean up. Which was both good and bad. Good, because I figured it was better out of her system. Bad, because I nearly tossed my cookies myself while cleaning up the mess. And I hadn’t even had any cookies to that point. Haha.

 

The next time we went out for a walk, it was light out and I could at least attempt to watch out for dangers lurking in the grass.

 

But that’s all Maggie wanted to do – eat grass. So, upset tummy it is.

 

When this happens, I let her eat a little grass to settle her stomach – to an extent. She won’t eat the pure pumpkin that I’ve been told will help. So I usually put her on the dog run outside the patio for a few minutes. She can’t get far because it’s not a long one. And I keep an eye on her.

 

Well, I opened the sliding glass door. Then I opened the screen door in order to go outside to fetch the cable clip, but Maggie was out the door before I could block her exit.

 

Since she (a) is older now and (b) was not feeling well, she didn’t go far. Just stood about a foot outside the patio searching for any tender new shoots of grass that hadn’t been decimated by the winter.

 

I was surprised that I didn’t panic. I calmly called her to come inside. She ignored me. I slowly walked toward her, but she kept backing a little farther away searching for grass to munch on. Finally, I got close enough while she was distracted and I was able to pick her up and bring her back inside.

 

So much for knocking on wood.

 

I was hugely relieved that it ended well. Perhaps, however, in the future I will refrain from mentioning who has lost her and simply concentrate on not losing her again?

 

I don’t think my new neighbors would be quite so willing to chase Maggie Minx.

 

Friendships as We Age. Part II.

A couple of weeks ago I had breakfast with a friend. We started talking about friendships and she described an article she had read (or maybe it was a podcast she listened to) about how difficult it is for older people to develop true friendships. That when you’re young, it’s easy to make friends.

 

Think about it – when you’re young, you meet kids in school and you become friends. Sometimes they’re lifelong friends and sometimes they may be just your friend from the third-grade.

 

But several things need to happen to make friendships “stick.” Some of these are: 1) shared interests or common ground, 2) continuity and consistency, and 3) similar priorities.

 

Kids are all in the same environment – they’re relatively the same age, they have school all day and homework to do and tests to study for. They’re all in the same boat, so to speak. They consistently see the same group of people every day for months at a time – long enough to build on budding friendships. And they may play the same sports after school or get together for play dates or birthday parties. So they’re together long enough to know who they want to become friends with.

 

Also, kids are in the same “stage” of life – they don’t have differing priorities. They need to discover how to diagram a sentence or learn the definition of photosynthesis. They don’t have spouses at home and they don’t have bills to pay. (And if they did, that would be a little creepy…)

 

Anyway, this is why it is sometimes difficult to build true friendships with workmates. Even though you are in the same proximity day in and day out, you need all the other elements to work together.

 

You can be friends at work and even meet for dinners or happy hours to unwind after the workweek, but if one goes home to a spouse and kids and the other goes to a quiet apartment, they’re in different life stages and may not develop true friendships.

 

Also, when one person leaves the company, they don’t have that same day-to-day interaction and their friendship may fizzle out.

 

Notice I’m using a lot of “mays” and “sometimes” here. There are occasions when true friendships are built with a workmate after only a few short months. It depends on the people and it depends on the circumstances.

 

This is where I’ve been lucky. I was in vastly different life stages than some of my work friends. Some of them were older, had kids, were married and had to deal with helping their children with their homework and putting dinner on the table. I, on the other hand, was single with few responsibilities other than to feed my cat once in a while.

 

Fortunately, I worked in a department where we enjoyed each other’s company and we had many outside activities, including department rivalry softball games, general get-togethers and holiday gatherings. I believe we named the first Friday of every month as a holiday that warranted a happy hour and dance party.

 

And, okay, by the way, I’m kidding about my cat. I took very good care of Tux – fed her every day and even cleaned her kitty litter box on the regular. She was apparently getting me trained to be a true servant to Maggie Minx several decades later – even though she probably would have been horrified to learn that I would be so devoted to a d-o-g.

 

Anyway, I digress. Somehow we built those work friendships into true friendships – and I cherish them even today.

 

I met one of my best friends on our first day at Ohio State. We had the components of shared interests (Elementary Education majors), continuity (many day-to-day classes together) and similar priorities (getting college educations).

 

Sue interrupted her schooling after our freshman year to get married, go to work and start a family. Interestingly, our friendship continued to flourish even though we were in vastly different stages in our lives. I couldn’t imagine being a wife and a mom. I couldn’t imagine worrying about paying the electric bill every month or making dinner for a spouse every night. Instead, I was still interested in meeting friends at the Thirsty-I and playing pranks on the guys in the dorm across the way from us.

 

A few years later, Sue and her young daughters moved to Florida and our friendship could have fizzled out then. But we made the effort to keep in touch by writing letters to each other. Yes, Virginia, there was a time before we had Instant Messaging and communication. Hard to believe now. Even calling each other didn't happen often because we were girls on a budget and long-distance calls were a luxury.

 

Eventually, Sue moved back to Columbus and remarried. And when I met and married Vince, the four of us became great friends, which is wonderful because it made traveling and hanging out together so special.

 

So it takes extra effort to maintain friendships as we go through life. But I, for one, think it’s worth it.

 

The friend who brought up the topic of making friends as we age and how it becomes more difficult? She told me about her own experience in this regard. Several couples who were close friends moved to other states and, while she and her husband were able to maintain those friendships long distance, getting together for a meal on a random Saturday night became problematic.

 

So they decided to explore other ways to meet people. They joined a pickleball league and play several times every week. Eventually, a small group from the league started meeting for happy hours or meals that didn’t include the actual playing of pickleball – and these people became friendly and started socializing more often.

 

Now, after 3-4 years, Susan would call some of these folks real friends. And that’s because all those elements – shared interests, continuity and similar priorities – are all present. They see each other on a regular basis, they all have common interests (besides pickleball), and they are all in the same stage of life – retired/no young kids to raise.

 

So while it takes some work to forge new friendships as we get older, it can be incredibly rewarding.

 

I’m grateful for the circle of friends I have. But I’m never averse to making new friends.

 

Just don’t expect me to pick up a pickleball racquet anytime soon. I've got bad knees and don't need more reasons to require surgical procedures.

 

Stay well, my friends. Until next time…

Friendships as we Age (Part I)

Recently I attended a birthday gathering to celebrate a friend’s 50^th birthday. It was one of those cold winter evenings where I seriously considered staying home wrapped up in my fuzzy jacket and fleece blanket. Maggie Minx would be snoozing in my lap and I’d have my latest novel in hand reading about the main character summering in Greece.

 

Two reasons made me unwrap myself and head out the door, which were: 1) I had already taken off the fuzzy jacket and put on my go-out clothes, and 2) Maggie Minx was driving me nuts as I’d been home with her for two whole days without a break and she was whining to go out for a walk every 20 minutes.

 

Actually, there was a third reason – and that was, I missed seeing this group of friends and hoped to reconnect.

 

And, yeah, Reason #3 was the most important because I hadn’t seen some of these folks in a long time. And it turned out to be a wonderful evening, even if I didn’t specifically have conversations with some of them other than to hug and say hello.

 

I realize that, since Covid and Vince’s passing, I don’t get together with large groups of friends as much as I used to. Part of it is my fault in that I haven’t wanted to immerse myself in large group gatherings, but I also realize that we don’t seem to get together in large groups as much either ever since Covid.

 

There was a time we used to gather for every and any little thing. Birthdays, anniversaries, happy hours, weddings, sports, trivia, wine tasting, the first random warm Friday evening after a cold winter. You name it, we got together for it.

 

Now, however, we seem to pick and choose what events merit our presence.

 

Don’t get me wrong. There are still plenty of get-togethers. Some folks are in the ski club with activities like bowling, Euchre, softball and, oh yeah, skiing. There have been smaller groups who get together for trivia or wine tastings or happy hours. Some folks play in fantasy football leagues and get together for whatever reason they need to gather together for in fantasy football. (Clearly, this doesn’t include me as I don’t have the first clue.)

 

And I’m sure there are plenty of times couples get together for Saturday night dinner and movie dates or what have you.

 

fuzzy group photo

But attending this party and looking around the room made me realize that I’ve missed this. Someone took a few group photos, which was great. But people kept joining the party. So even after the photos were taken, maybe another dozen people arrived.

 

So while it wasn’t a close-down-the-bar late night for me, it was a thoroughly enjoyable evening and I’m really glad Kendra had a birthday we could help celebrate.

 

While I may not regularly attend large group gatherings, I do spend a lot of time with smaller groups and one-on-ones with friends. Meeting a friend or two for a meal or to do a little shopping or just hanging out together has been my jam.

 

Recently I was invited to go a movie with two of my friends and former neighbors. I’m not sure if it was a spur-of-the-moment thing or not, but I had already made plans with another friend and couldn’t join them.

 

Later, Meg texted me and asked what specific days/times worked for me to get together and do something.

 

Yeah, I wish I were that organized a person who had specific days and times available for scheduling. Instead, the week ahead I look at my schedule and if there isn’t much on it, I proceed to fill it up. You might ask me what’s going on next week and I might say, “Not a thing.”

 

Then, a couple of days later, I’ve got no availability.

 

And, let’s be real – I don’t have something going on every single day. After all, I’m not 25 anymore. Heck, I’m not even double that age anymore.

 

Some of us need naps.

 

Nevertheless, the week did turn out to be a busy one. Initially, I had the birthday party at the beginning of the week and dinner with a friend at the end of the week. Good enough. But then another group dinner with my TWIG group was scheduled and a wine tasting I hadn’t known about was planned.

 

So I had a busy week – and even though I could easily have stayed wrapped up in my fuzzy jacket and snuggly blankets with my dog in my lap – I’m so glad I went to each one. Because connecting with other people is important, particularly as we get older.

 

A friend I had breakfast with recently talked about why people have a harder time meeting new people and developing true friendships as we age – and it was interesting enough that I may talk about it in more depth.

 

But right now…my fuzzy jacket and snuggly blanket are calling my name. And Maggie is, frankly, due for her walk even though she isn’t whining too much at the moment. Better take her out before she starts.

 

Have a great rest of your weekend, everyone. Stary warm. And maybe call a friend.

 

Until next time…

Decluttering and Its Impact on Charcuterie Efforts

 

Welcome to 2025, folks! Yes, it’s nearly the end of January and I’m just now working on my first blog of the year. Oh, the shame!

 

Actually, I had started two other blogs earlier this month, neither of which I finished. Considering they were mostly complaints about the negative wind chill factors and how much snow and ice I had to tromp through when I took Maggie for her daily walks – it’s probably a good thing I didn’t finish either of them.

 

Today is a balmy 31 degrees F and I feel like we’re experiencing a heat wave. Ooh, double digits! Now, instead of donning a hat, scarf, gloves, parka and winter boots with spikes, I only have to wear the hat, coat and gloves. Leaves me with a lot of extra time in my day, so let’s hope the warming trend continues.

 

Yeah, sure. I mean, c’mon. It’s still January. And I fear that Old Man Winter and Mother Nature have teamed up and aren’t done with us quite yet. Apparently, they’ve decided to show us who’s boss this winter. (And if you live in temperate climes, consider yourself fortunate.)

 

Anyway, since I’m not a fan of cold weather, I’ve been trying to stay inside as much as possible. Thus, I’ve been working on household purging this month. I still have Too. Much. Stuff! I’ve managed to clean out all my kitchen cabinets, although a second pass probably wouldn’t hurt. Just because everything fits in them neatly, doesn’t mean I need all that stuff.

 

Yesterday, I cleaned out the cabinets under the kitchen sink. Not that I rummage under there often, but it is a good feeling to open the cabinets and see order instead of chaos.

 

I have noticed, however, that on occasion I purge a little too much. Most times I don’t have the need for all the serving platters and bowls that we used to own. This is true because I no longer entertain the way that Vince and I did on a regular basis. Plus, I no longer have two kitchens with sufficient cabinet space to house all that stuff either.

 

So over the past several years I’ve greatly reduced the number and types of party supplies in my cabinets. But recently I was invited to a dinner party where I was asked to bring the dessert – only I realized I no longer had a nice serving platter. On it, I was planning to bring fresh fruits and a dip as well as brownies for the chocoholics amongst us.

 

Instead of having one big display of all things sweet, I had to bring two small trays. It didn’t have quite the impact I was hoping for, although I don’t suppose it would have been a good idea to have strawberry juice making the ooey-gooey chocolate brownies soggy.

 

On the other hand, I wasn’t able to pull off a Pinterest Win with my display either.

 

I blame the charcuterie craze. Now instead of being able to slap some strawberries, grapes and blueberries on a plate and be done with it, our food offerings must now resemble works of art.

 

Like I have any clue how to cut a strawberry so that it resembles a fragile red rose.

 

I even saw displays featuring the pineapple crown as a Christmas tree complete with a pineapple star and cranberry “ornaments.” I may have given it the ol’ college try, but I neither had a pineapple on hand, nor did I want to make a last-minute Kroger run. So while that entire idea was out, I did use my star cookie cutter on the cantaloupe. AND the brownies.

 

Hey, I tried.

 

Since I have no photos to share, I clearly wasn’t impressed with my fruit board enough to document it – but grapes pretty much taste the same whether they’re plunked down in a section on a tray or they’re swirled on a board so as to resemble a river amid the sea of fruit.

 

Can you tell I want to be the person who makes the sea of fruit display? Yeah, I have Charcuterie Envy.

 

But I’ll do my best to restrain myself. I don’t have room anymore in my cabinets for those big platters anyway.

 

And, once I finish this blog (and it’s looking good that it might actually get posted as I’ve made it farther than either of the last two blog attempts), I am heading to the spare bathroom to work on purging and organizing the closet in there. Old towels to be gathered and collected for donation to dog shelters? Check. Over the counter medications that expired three years ago? Check, check.

 

Wish me luck. If the temps rise much further, I may be outside luxuriating in the fact that half my face doesn’t need to be covered in a wool scarf that makes it hard to see or boots that took an extra five minutes to don.

 

Enjoy the rest of January, friends. Keep warm. And feel free to show me your Pinterest Charcuterie Wins. 

 

Until next time…

Finding the Balance

Do you ever feel like your life is filled with “busy-ness”? Like, you tell yourself, Once I’m finished with X-Y-Z, I can take a breath and relax! Or, you think As soon as I’m done with these fill-in-the-blank activities, things will get back to normal.

 

That’s kind of how I’ve been feeling the past couple of months. Starting at the end of June I had a fancy wedding to attend and then I had to recover from Covid that I caught at the fancy wedding. Then I had to help settle an estate and get a house ready to sell, and then I had a hot pink birthday party to organize, and then in the fall, I had a two-week (amazing) vacation to take. And as soon as I returned, I had a Twig bazaar to work and then a book club to host (which included cleaning baseboards. I hate cleaning baseboards…)

 

So once I finished with the book club gig recently, I did feel this sense of relief that I could finally take a breath and relax.

 

For a minute, anyway. Because now we’re in the midst of the holiday season. And while that doesn’t mean what it used to mean for me because I don’t have a lot of decorating to do, gifts to buy and wrap or food to prepare for guests, there is still more busy-ness that inherently comes with the holidays.

 

Of course, I realize that I create some of this busy-ness myself.

 

Would anyone have really cared that I didn’t clean the baseboards before my book club? Well, anyone besides someone who is deathly allergic to dust?

 

And during my hot pink birthday party would anyone have really cared that I had the perfect hot pink necklace to match the theme? No, because, frankly, I forgot to wear it that day. It was only after I got home and saw it on the counter that I had to smack myself in the forehead and chastise myself for my forgetfulness. But then I had to immediately laugh because, really, no one knew or cared that my perfectly matching necklace was sitting on the bathroom counter!

 

Instead, all I really needed to think about was how much fun I had that day surrounded by my friends whom I love and who love me back (despite not wearing the perfect hot pink necklace).

 

I was talking to a friend on the phone who said he had quit his job. So now he’s retired. And bored.

 

He hadn’t intended to completely quit. His plan was to cut back his hours to part-time, but his boss pulled that one last underhanded scheduling maneuver that forced his hand.  

 

So he’s been home at home for a couple of weeks and is feeling completely bored with his life.

 

I don’t understand that. For me, there is always something going on. And if there is a break in the calendar, I don’t wait for someone to call me – I start making calls and filling up my schedule.

 

Nobody is responsible for my busy-ness but me. If I don’t have enough going on, then it’s up to me to make something fun happen. And if it’s too busy, then I know I should cut back a little.

 

It’s all about finding the balance. Something I’m still working on.

 

Here’s what is so interesting about my friend being bored now that he doesn’t have a job to go to every day. He wasn’t the sort to travel or go on trips, so he took staycations.  And he always enjoyed those times off.

 

But, now, he’s looking down the abyss of nothing on the schedule from this point forward and he’s wondering what to do with his life without a 40-hour work week.

 

I tried to tell him. That life slows down a bit. Now, instead of working eight hours and then fitting in grocery-shopping, gas tank-filling, dog-walking, dinner-making and laundry-folding chores before and after that eight-hour workday, the day can become the grocery-shopping, gas tank-filling, dog-walking, dinner-making and laundry-folding activities.

 

And then, if you want to fit lunch or dinner with a friend in between all that, so much the better!

 

He doesn’t see the benefit quite yet.

 

I suggested he give it a little time to see if there are any activities he especially enjoys or groups he might like to join. I’m hoping he will soon. If not, perhaps he could find a part-time job he enjoys.  

 

Do greeters still welcome you to Walmart? Or do they just insist on checking your receipt to make sure you’ve properly scanned all your stuff? (Y’know – their job.)

 

Yeah, maybe not the best idea for him.

 

Ah well. We all have to figure out our own path.

 

Meanwhile, I’ve spent way too much time trying to finish this blog. So my “busy-ness” is getting in the way of doing things I really enjoy. Looks like I need to make some adjustments.

 

Ooh…I’ve got it. If I give up laundry-folding and gas-tank filling, that ought to slow me down some – right?!

 

Now if I could only get Maggie Minx to walk herself – for at least half of her daily walks – I’d be golden.

 

A-G-I-N-G!

I think my bed is trying to kill me. I’m serious. A few months ago, I went to bed feeling perfectly fine – sleepy and looking forward to a good night’s slumber – and when I woke up, I could barely move. My left hip and knee were so sore, I could hardly walk Maggie that morning. For sure she got shortchanged in the sniff-and-pee department.

 

While my hip recovered quickly, my knee? Not so much. I’ve been icing it and applying stinky topical pain relievers to the point where I’m sure anyone walking by me thinks I’m confusing pain reliever ointment with perfume.

 

All this pain simply from sleeping? C’mon. Life is not supposed to be this difficult, people!

 

I took to sleeping in my old spare room bed, which seemed to prevent any new aches and pains.

 

And I got rid of my cheap-o mattress that I bought when I moved here. I’d heard horror stories about people spending thousands of dollars on a particular type of mattress – and not being happy with it. I didn’t want to suffer the same fate.

 

I didn’t know the differences between types of mattresses and I didn’t have time to do any sort of research prior to moving. Memory Foam? Cooling Gel? Coils, inner springs, pillow tops? Oh my.

 

So I picked something inexpensive thinking it would do until I had more time to figure it out.

 

Yeah, clearly the memory foam mattress wasn’t it. For me, anyway.

 

Vince and I had bought a Sleep Number bed from someone years ago. It worked well for a long time, but eventually the air pump broke. Because it was a used bed, we couldn’t call the manufacturer to have new parts sent to us. So Vince did some sort of MacGyver repair with rubber bands and gaskets and chewing gum (I think), but that meant we couldn’t raise or lower our sleep number after that. 

Sort of defeats the purpose of a Sleep Number bed, doesn’t it? (I did write a rather amusing blog about our Sleep Number issue here if you'd like to read it.)

 

Anyway, I didn’t want to bring the bed with me when I moved. For one, it didn’t work right and I’m no MacGyver. And for another, it had so many baffles and foam pieces I didn’t think I could figure out how to jigsaw it back together. I’m not all that good with puzzles anyway.

 

So I recently did a little research and bought another, more expensive, mattress. And it’s sort of hard as a rock. Now I’m torn between sleeping on my softer, more giving, spare room bed – and my hard-as-a-rock bed.

 

I feel like Goldilocks. When am I gonna find a mattress that is “just right”?

 

Toppers have helped – a little. But eventually I’m going to add so many toppers to my bed that I’ll be forced to use a step ladder to climb into it at night. And Maggie Minx won’t be able to jump up into it no matter how spry she is.

 

I sure do miss those days when I could sleep pretty much anywhere on pretty much anything and I could wake up pretty much raring to go.

 

I remember one time in my mid-20s going to a Halloween party where the hosts had just bought an old house and hadn’t yet fixed it up – so it was perfect for a spooky Halloween party. There was a roll of new carpeting in one large room awaiting installation. I’m guessing they didn’t want to take the chance of installing it and then having a party with a bunch of 20-somethings spilling beer on their new carpet.

 

A group of us out-of-towners ended up using that roll of carpeting as our pillows and our jackets, coats and costumes as our blankets.

 

And no one complained.

 

Nowadays, I require a special ergonomic pillow to alleviate any possibility of waking up with a sore neck.

 

Aging. So fun.

 

I sure do miss those days when I could fall asleep all curled up and snug in my bed and wake up without experiencing a frozen shoulder or an aching back. Those days are gone for good, I fear. Nevertheless, I know that I need sleep every night in order to function. So I’m just doing my best to figure out how to make that happen.

 

Probably I should just walk into a Beds-R-Us in my PJs carrying my special ergonomic pillow and tell them I’ll let them know in the morning if I’m going to buy their bed.

 

And, PS, applying stinky topical pain reliever regularly does seem to be helping my sore knee. But perhaps I should knock on wood. I don’t need to tempt Fate or mean ol' Father Time. Neither has been very nice to me lately. Maybe I called ‘em “crotchety” once too often.

 

Until next time, friends.

 

A Chance Encounter

Yesterday Vince and I would have celebrated our 15^th wedding anniversary. We probably would have gone somewhere special for dinner and enjoyed a great bottle of wine. And, knowing Vince, he probably would have brought me a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

 

We would have talked about how 15 years flew by in a flash, but he would have said something especially sweet to me by telling me he’d loved every minute of it (even those times when we argued about whose turn it was to walk Maggie Minx.)

 

Instead, I went about my day as if it were just any old Friday in September. I filled up my gas tank and ran my car through the car wash. And I stopped by the library to pick up the September book club book.

 

As I crossed off items on my To-Do list, I felt a sense of accomplishment because I was being productive. But I missed him. All day long. And I had this sense of sadness because September 6^th isn’t really a special day anymore, except in my heart.

 

My last stop of the day was to go to Kroger to pick up a prescription as well as a few items I’d forgotten the last time I went grocery shopping.

 

As I was getting out of the car to head into the store, I received a text from a friend who said she’d gotten a reminder notification on her phone – and forwarded a picture of Vince and me on our wedding day.

 

It was sweet of her to remember and I appreciated it, but again, I felt the sadness start to take over and I even got a little choked up.

 

Yeah, this is not the sort of thing you want to be experiencing in the middle of the Kroger parking lot on a random Friday in September. 

 

So I got myself centered a bit and marched determinedly into the store. There’s no crying in Kroger, Jane!

 

I managed to get everything on my list…well, except for ice. I – once again – forgot the ice. I always remember it as I’m walking into the store, but a person can’t exactly walk around a grocery store with a bag of ice in her cart. It’ll be an expensive bag of slushy water by the time one reaches the checkout line.

 

Anyway, I finished up and loaded my purchases into the trunk.

 

After I dropped off the cart in the corral, I turned and headed back towards my car. A woman walking by my car said, “Is this your car and is your name Jane?”

 

Probably I should have looked it over for dings and dents in case there had been a runaway cart incident while I was in the store – but I answered her and said that, yes, my name is Jane. This, by the way, is not an indication that she was psychic or anything. My name is actually on my license plate.

 

I almost expected her to tell me her name was Jane as well. Instead, she said, “I just lost my best friend of 50 years this week. And her name was Jane.”

 

Immediately, I told her how sorry I was to hear it and that I can only imagine how hard it is to lose your best friend. She told me it was unexpected and she was still reeling from the shock and the loss.

 

“I used to call her Janie,” she said. “Did anyone ever call you Janie?”

 

Oh, man.

 

I told her that Vince, my husband, always called me Janie. And that today would have been our 15^th wedding anniversary. And then I told her that he’d passed away three years ago and I was kind of sad today.

 

So we stood there commiserating with each other over the loss of her friend and my husband. And then she asked me if she could give me a hug.

 

And she did. This perfect stranger and I stood in the middle of the Kroger parking lot and hugged one another.

 

It was an amazing moment. Because we both needed that little bit of comfort and I think we both felt a little bit better when we separated.

 

She told me that everyone needs a hug once in a while. And then she wished me a happy anniversary and told me to have a blessed day.

 

And then she turned and walked into the store.

 

She never even told me her name.

 

When I got into my vehicle and started it up, I was feeling that incredible rush from a chance encounter with a stranger. Was that a God wink or a Vince wink, or what?

 

I felt lighter and happier. And I knew that she was put in my path – and I was put in her path – for a reason.

 

So Happy 15^th Anniversary, my Vince. I forgot to buy myself some flowers. And I didn’t even crack open a bottle of wine. But I’m okay. You know that – right?

 

And I know it, too. Even if I did forget to buy ice.

 

Until next time, friends.