In a couple of weeks, I get to see our daughter, son, daughter-in-law and ARIELLE, our grand daughter.  What is it about grandchildren that turn a person into mush?  I want to hold her close, and eat her face.  I think that’s the Italian side coming out.  The kids are “grown ups”, or so I let them believe.  But babies are so vulnerable, and sweet and innocent.  The urge to apologize to her for the situation in the world is very strong.  I mean I know I’m not responsible for most of it, but I haven’t fixed it either.

Where to start, though?  If only folks could be more logical, and stop destructive hobbies like blowing up one another.  It’s messy, painful and only leads to more people getting blown up.  It’s been thousands of years, guys.  You are never going to get everyone to believe as you do.  If the way others worship disturbs you, stay within your own group (area of the world, country).  If not, the only thing we can count on is more conflict, more waste and more funerals…

Now that I’ve depressed myself, I’m going to bed.  Hopefully to dream of my favorite little one!

Just a few days ago, some poor woman fell onto the tracks in NYC.  Thank goodness the motorman was able to stop in time, just seventy feet from the victim.  She survived, and it was a great feel good story with front page pictures in all the city papers.  I’m sure she is grateful to be alive, but as a woman I’m also pretty sure she’s thinking she will never wear vertical stripes again.  You see, she fell forward and the photos show her draped across the tracks backside foremost.  A most unfortunate angle.  To be female is to constantly worry if one’s ass looks too big, no matter how dramatic the circumstances.  Go figure.

Well folks, there’s no way to avoid it.  August is coming to an end and with it the true summery feel of Summer.  The stores are breaking out the cool weather clothes and school supplies are cluttering store shelves.  Kids are beginning to wear that haunted look that says ” Shit, it can’t be that time already!!!”  Around here school opens in about a week or so, and harried Mothers are counting the minutes.

It’s not that we don’t love our kids.  But by this time of year the at home Moms are tired of chauffeuring, refereeing, devising entertainment and trying to get their offspring to hold up their  own  end of the deal,  whatever that might be.  Working Moms have had it with sitters, unsettled schedules and the ever present “Mom guilt” that often accompanies the long summer days.  We’re a four season area, and while many wish summer would last longer, countless women are in let’s get on with it mode.

We do have one “child” finishing her last semester before grad school.  But she, along with  her brother, sister in law and niece are a thousand miles away.  So that leaves me without any back-to-school obligations these days, except for my own odd little September ritual.  Despite the fact I haven’t been in school since graduating High School in 1973, each Autumn I purchase myself new pencils, pens and notebook.  It makes me feel ready.  For what, I’m uncertain.  But if one of my old teachers should show up, I’m prepared to take notes.  Good grief.

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Maybe it’s the gloomy weather, but I’ve been contemplating sorrows the last few days.  We all have them; large and small, past and present.  For some of us, it’s ill health.  Or worse, health problems with our children or other loved ones.  Financial troubles, broken hearts, family estrangements and mental health difficulties, the list goes on and on.  So what do we do?  One can turn to alcohol or other substances.  REALLY bad idea, as tempting as it can be.  There’s the old Anglo-Saxon “stiff upper lip” attitude, to just tough it out.  I find this works best along with turning to one’s support system.  Talking with sisters, friends, cousins, aunts and other women folk just to sort things out can bring great relief.  Bitching, confiding, venting or even tears can act as a great safety valve. 

The sun eventually returns, both literally and figuratively.  So for me, I’m going to try and stop dwelling on things I can’t change, and losses that cannot be recovered.  Concentrate instead on the many positives in my life.  Like venting on this blog, and knowing that I can always turn to my emergency chocolate bar if need be…

I’ve got this three week trip across our fabulous country dancing around in my head.  There is so much, it’s difficult to know where to begin.  Never having been further west than Wisconsin, there was a great deal I hadn’t seen or experienced.  Huge mountains and desolate prairie.  Winding rivers such a deep shade of blue that it steals one’s breath.  Mount Rushmore and the in-progress gigantic Crazy Horse Monument.  Yellowstone, and watching hundreds of bison cross the road in no hurry, and with great nonchalance.  The museum of the Massacre at Wounded Knee.  Big sky and cowboy boots on fence posts around homes and ranches.  Towns with populations of 28, while one with 1500 citizens is a “city”.  Mount St. Helen’s and the stripped trees still floating in Spirit Lake 30 years later.  Landscape that can go from flat, brown and sagebrush covered to green and mountainous in the blink of an eye.

I feel quite humbled, and grateful to have been able to experience it all.  Mother nature always puts one in one’s place, doesn’t she?  Speaking with the “locals” is always one of the pleasures of travel.  I’ve been called “ma’am” by a cowboy (a brief instant of wishing I was 20 years younger and single) and purchased a handmade beaded necklace from an elderly Indian of immense dignity at the side of the road in the middle of nowhere. Felt collective guilt while driving through miles of Reservation land, and seeing the plight of Native Americans.  Watched children play amidst a garden of flowers that had to be seen to be believed.  Saw the awe in the faces of my country men and women as they gloried in the same sights that were overwhelming me.  I also ate way too much and have expended my calorie allowance through Thanksgiving.  There’s always a down side, isn’t there?

Although it was close once or twice, I didn’t melt.  I learned you can spend three weeks traveling in an antique bus with friends and still be friends upon homecoming.  Realized that clothing disappears from suitcases much as it does from the dryer at home, and that I have a “Jersey” accent.  The only hamburgers you can get out west are tortured into seared and weathered hockey pucks.  No such thing as medium, let alone rare.  Having met our daughter for the last 6 days of the trip, I was reminded that she and her father are funny together, and a pleasure to watch.  Although I could have done without that one lady’s room moment with Kate.  The one where we entered a two stall bathroom with one stall occupied.  She heads for the empty perch and pounds on the other door on the way past.  Leaving me to explain to the woman that it wasn’t ME, but my daughter being amusing.  Good grief.

A wonderful time awaits me in September as well.  I get a few days down south, visiting our son, daughter-in-law, daughter  AND our wonderful Arielle, who is growing in leaps and bounds. I cannot wait to wrap my arms around her, and catch up with her life.  Pure heaven!  So good night and the best to all….

Well, my husband and I returned on the redeye from Seattle yesterday morning at six.  We boarded the plane at around ten pm.  Once airborne I requested a glass of wine, a large seltzer and a cure for mega-hot flashes.  Only got two out of three, but the flight attendant was amused.  A few bumpy moments ( and a heart felt prayer) led me to a xanax and a nap.  I always get an aisle seat and surrender the arm on the other side to my neighbor.  He was young, handsome and quite gay.  Obviously, he had no designs on my person but he must have been chilly.  He gravitated toward me the entire time he slept and despite my frequent nudges, kept coming over in my direction.  And so my hotflashes kept a random stranger warm and cozy for the entire flight.  Obviously, my life has not been in vain.

My thanks to Colleen for keeping the blog up during my absence in such an entertaining fashion.  She has a stylish way of expressing herself, and I was quite grateful not to have to blog while on the road using my husband’s laptop.  She saved our marriage, as I’m certain I’d have crashed it and lost everything on his hard drive, or whatever you call it.

As I’m still punchy from doing five thousand miles cross country in a non-air-conditioned 1930 vintage bus, I’ll quit here.  Hello again, good bye for now, and tra-la, tra-la…

Recently a close friend of mine went through a break-up with her boyfriend.  Break-ups are never easy and can be unnerving and disorienting at the very least.  Such was the case with this friend.

I wish I had profound words of wisdom that would make everything alright again.  But sometimes the best solution is to just shoulder through it to the other side.  Even if you’re not sure whether the other side is there or not, and not sure you want to be there if it is.

It’s funny how the heart breaks, and funnier still how it seems to mend differently with different people, and even depending on the circumstances, with those different people.  Is it best to have a good cry and then jump right back on the dating horse?  Would careful introspection and a lengthy recovery be more prudent?  I’ve been known to do both myself, and still do not know which is the better choice.

Should one regurgitate every aspect of the collapsed relationship, with the hope of putting it far behind you afterwards?  Or is it best to try to stay busy and not even give it another thought?

I guess in the end it depends on the individual, who hopefully has a good sense of self, and knows what would work best for their particular situation.

One thing is certain, though:  There is indeed another side, and it won’t be as bad as the imagination makes it out to be.  Whatever was meant to be, will be, and as Winston Churchill said “If you’re going through hell, keep going!”

Am I the only one who absolutely detests those television commercials from the Canada Tourism Board?  I literally cringe when one is aired!

I loathe the shaky camera technique, which makes me mildly nauseous.  Do they do that to give the feeling of a bad amateur video or to hopefully keep the audiences interest?  Or maybe they do it just to make people vaguely queasy while proclaiming the shaky virtues of a Canada vacation.

I hate the barely-human grunts, screams and guttural sounds of the audio in all the different versions of the ad as well.  Does anyone know adults that actually utter any of these sounds?

What were they thinking?  I was never that interested in visiting Canada to begin with…..and now this series of commercials only make me want to visit even less.

With Marian’s new Grandmother status, the circle of life and its’ continuity has been on my mind a lot.  It’s really amazing, isn’t it? The birth of a baby?  To first see your children, then your grandchildren–each with part of yourself in them–born, grow and mature, to one day have children of their own?  There is something very comforting to me about that continuing cycle.  And very empowering–knowing that even after you and I are long gone, we live on in perpetuity.

I’ve always believed that child rearing is undoubtedly the single most important job in the world.  Simultaneously scary and wonderful, what could possibly be more important than molding the minds of the future?