So much to complain about....

I complain about my cleavage. It's not what it used to be. An inch or so lower and more cylindrical than I'd prefer. Now I know why they add that little extra "sock" to tank tops, although that only works for a few years. I can't go braless any more. Can't pass the pencil test. My breast length is racing my hair length and I can no longer play Mermaid in the bathtub.

I complain about my hair. In the quest for the perfect curl, I end up with light-socket frizz. I can't blow it dry. I can't wash it at night. I wash it in the morning and have to wait until 10:00 for it to dry. Wavy but not curly. What used to be golden is now brown. With some gray.... little patches here and there. Unwelcome silvery strands to catch the light. A reminder of lost youth.

I complain about my body. Strange, lumpy parts replace the once over-looked smooth areas. I can't drink without a hangover. Aches and pains visit with more frequency. Gone is the ability to scarf down a double cheeseburger and shake. Now, every calorie likes to hang out, just in case it's needed.

I complain about time. Not enough of the lazy, day-off kind. Too much of the busy, run-around kind. It takes too long to walk here, or run there. There's not enough time in the day to take on that last task; usually housework.

I complain about so much. But I don't complain about my hair falling out from Chemo. Or the doctor wanting to take more breast tissue (just to be cautious). I don't complain about heaving until there's nothing left to give. Or the needle marks covering my skin. I don't complain about being given a length of time in which I can live.

The fact is, I have cleavage. And hair. And a healthy body. And time...... I am not sick. I am lucky. Many are not. I have decided to honor my friends, my family, my sisters in breast-hood by simply shutting my mouth. I will not complain about life, as I have permission to live it however I please. The coffee line is too long? Someone cut me off in traffic? The electric bill is too high? Lucky.

Lucky to be here.....

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Things I love about fall....

• Leaves running across the road like cats.
• The sawdust smell of a fallen branch (in anyone's yard but mine!).
• Spongy grass.
• Netflix Sunday afternoons with hot chocolate and blankets.
• Hats.
• Cloud animals. 
• Pajama pants. Finally.
• Costumes and candy. (Lots and lots of candy.... costume optional.)
• Long, hot baths with a book. 
• Walking the dog in the wind.
• Cinnamon and nutmeg.
• Aspen leaves applauding the breeze.
• Closed-toed shoes. And new socks.
• Oak ball wars.
• Crunchy footsteps.
• Enormous, lopsided pumpkins on my tiny, lopsided porch.
• Baking cookies. And bread.
• Rain.

What's your favorite thing about fall?

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Shorter days....

It's happening. I went to a late matinee yesterday and when the show was over I readied myself for the spotlight of summer waiting to greet me on the other side of the theatre door. I dug my shades out of my enormous candy and snacks receptacle purse (it's amazing what you'll find in there), located my keys and headed for the exit. If I hurried home I'd still have time for a bit of gardening before nightfall. I followed the movie lemmings in a race to get to out, found the door, and squinted in anticipation of the brutal California sun.

It was.... dark. At 7:30. Fearing Sudden Onset Blindness (I saw it once on Oprah and have been terrified ever since), I stopped dead in my tracks. Like a line of dominos, the single-file group of about 20 people behind me collided in a chain reaction of L.A. freeway proportions. And I was their leader.

A good friend once told me "If you're going down, never do it alone. Take as many people with you as you can." So in a moment of pure genius, I turned to the Twilight t-shirt wearing 13 year old directly behind me, shook my head and said in my best childless-woman-of-little-tolerance voice, "Come on! Can't you see there are people behind you? You're going to kill someone!" By the time she could muster a witty teenage retort I was long gone.

So I suppose the day getting shorter tells us summer has come to an end. It's time to prepare the soil for a winter garden, move the chair cushions inside, and finish all of those sunny weather projects that got started in June. It will start raining soon and hanging out in the garden 'til the bugs start biting will have to wait until next year.  I wonder if there are any good movies coming out.....

Continuum....

I've always been a social creature. In fact, all my 5th grade report card said in the comments section was "My darling Katie. If we could get her to stop talking and start working, her grades would improve." A life-long challenge, I'm afraid.


I had plans. For everything. By 17 I was out every weekend, going here, seeing that. Busy, busy, busy. I'd kiss my parents goodnight on my way out the door. I watched them wave goodbye as I ran past them on the porch, and try not to wake them when I got home.


At 25 I had collected a few really cool stories to write home about. I had stamps in my passport. There was always a concert, or an opening, or a trip with good friends. Opportunity everywhere and I was not going to miss any of it. I had no responsibilities. No reason to say no. I jumped at chances. Letters home were filled with tales of my adventures and photos of beautiful sunsets.


Slowly, the tables started turning. As I took on new responsibilities, my parents released theirs. I started my career as my Dad was retiring. Bought a car and a parking space as they bought a boat (not a weekend boat you can tow behind your truck, a 40-something foot multi-bedroom boat in the San Juan Islands). I acquired a mortgage around the time my parents paid off their house. Thought about starting a family as their last child was finishing college. I was tying myself down as they were releasing their reigns.


Now I check my email for their letters of adventure. I study the photos of their travels. I haven't been a guest in their house for years. Instead, they stay at mine on their way to or from their destination of choice. I cry as they pull away to continue their life stories, and I miss them. They are free. Truly free. I dream as I drive to work about the day I can loosen my bindings; release myself from the responsibilities of the life I have chosen. Wander the world from port to port, watch the sun set with an umbrella in my drink and my toes in the sand. Until then, I can always live vicariously....

If you give a girl a carriage....

I remember the day like it was yesterday. I was 7. And toothless. And wanted a dolly carriage more than life. I had a pretty extensive doll collection, complete with dresses and shoes and hair clips and jewelry. I'd lock myself and my cat Smudge Pot in my room and play fashion parlor for hours.


My mom made me the happiest girl on the planet when I woke up on my birthday to find the perfect pram to take my favorite doll on a walk. She was about 18 inches tall and had her own closet; a blue metal chest that opened to form a dressing room with drawers and hangers. Her wardrobe was to die for! Prairie dresses just like Holly Hobbie, fabulous hats to match, even socks. She had eyeballs that rolled back in her head if you laid her down.  She was the best doll ever. Then one day her head just popped right off her shoulders and couldn't be reattached, not even by my brother David who could fix anything.

I was devastated. Nothing could get me out of the dark mood that shadowed my afternoons. Well, almost nothing. Smudge Pot had been trained to sit for hours and watch the "purple and sparkly" develop in me. It was a natural progression, I suppose, to try the decapitated doll's clothes on the poor cat, and since she didn't complain (with claws, anyway) I was off and running with my new hobby: cat dressing. She loved it, I swear. I taped her dressed up little body in the stroller and took her for walks. She never left the house without a hat.


30-something years later my mom still shakes her head when I mention Smudge Pot. She was the first cat of many in my life, and she taught me a lot about unconditional love. And how to clip extensions to very short hair.

I tried everything....

Not so long ago I couldn't find enough recipients for the goodness my garden was producing. Every day I had a bounty of at least three tomatoes and more cucumbers than a village of widows could use. Peppers and herbs filled my market basket and I gave the basil curious haircuts once a week. My neighbors, my mom's neighbors, and even the crew at Starbucks were all reaping the rewards of my garden. It seemed so idyllic, harvesting and consuming the fruits of my labor. I was one with the Earth. In line with the moon. Down with natural pesticides. I was a garden goddess.

Then one day there were only two tomatoes. And two cucumbers. The basil wasn't growing a mullet and the peppers were on stand-by. As the days went by, my basket got lighter and lighter. I didn't know what I had done wrong. Was I over/under watering? Adding too much Miracle Grow? Not singing loudly enough? I was perplexed about my lack of new veggies. Not knowing what to do, I knew where I could find the answers. I was off to the garden center.


I consulted the directions on bags of amendments. I checked charts and labels and guides on additives. I didn't find anything helpful. The kids working for beer money didn't even know the plants in the nursery needed watering; they weren't going to offer me any new insight. Noticing a very comfy wicker chair, I slumped down and folded my arms in a huff. 


As my furrowed brow raised, I noticed her across the aisle. I instantly new she could save the garden. She'd done it  for countless people before (although not quite in an organic capacity). Selflessly standing by to offer comfort and hope. So I took her home. And named her Mary.


She's been standing guard for two days now, and I have to admit things are looking a bit better. The bell peppers broke out in a beautiful bloom to welcome her to the neighborhood! I even offered her a tropical shell necklace to make her more comfortable in her new home.


Only time will tell if she's up to the task, but I have a feeling the veggies will taste a little sweeter, and the garden will be a better place.

A couple of days away....

I took a week away from work and didn't go anywhere. Well, almost. I had planned to play all week; catch up on movies (check), get a pedicure (check), go to lunch with good friends (check), sleep in (check). Then I got bored. 

 

My mom suggested going to Lake Tahoe for a couple of days and I jumped at the chance. The air was cool, the people were friendly and the water was perfect. I planted my beach chair on the edge of the shore, grabbed my book, and let my worries go sailing away with the paddleboarders....

But the last year has not been kind to my favorite get-away. The economy has dried up tourist dollars and the casinos have all but closed down. The all-you-can-eat buffets are gone, boat and bike rental agencies have gone belly-up, and parking was plenty at the beach. The lake itself seemed a bit depressed, too. The water level is the lowest it's been in over 30 years. You can walk out 400 yards and not get your tummy wet!

So now is the chance for us semi-locals (would that be regionals?) to scoop up the good deals and head up the hill for some economic stimulus. You'll have the place to yourself and low or not, that is the most beautiful lake you'll ever see. Eat out, play in the casinos and rent some bikes for a cruise around town. You'll feel like a new person. Even if only for a couple of days.

Houseguests....

Our string of wonderful house guests have gone and all is back to normal. The house is quiet and we are a bit more unlikely to pick up our messes so fast. The lawn needs mowing and the weeds are peeking through (again!), all of the towels and sheets are blowing in the wind. 

Having guests when the temperature keeps rising can heat the house up very quickly, so we are doing much of our cooking outside, barbecued on Matt's new cast iron monster. Our tasty dinners were: chicken grilled with fresh garden peppers and onions; hot dogs and hamburgers with homemade mustard and pickles; fajitas; delicious steak with Gorgonzola butter, fresh asparagus, new potatoes, and tomato basil mozzarella salad (thanks to my parents for the photo!). We only cooked inside once.... pasta.

Although we always eat fresh, we don't always have great new company to share it with. It's fun to add another setting to the table, pour another glass of wine, and toast to friendships far and wide. I am ready for more guests, so if you're in town, stop by!

Here is a great all-around recipe for grilled veggies:

1 med. Red or Sweet Onion cut into 4 pieces then separated.

1 med. Yellow Squash sliced 1/2" thick lengthwise.

1 med. Zucchini Squash sliced 1/2" thick lengthwise.

1 med. Green Pepper cut into 1' strips.

1 med. Red Pepper cut into 1" strips.

12-14 med. fresh Mushrooms, stems removed.

Olive Oil mixture:

2 tablespoons Olive Oil.

1/4 teaspoon fresh ground Black Pepper.

1/4 teaspoon Sea Salt.

1 Garlic clove, crushed.

Toss vegetables with Olive Oil mixture and place in oil sprayed grill basket.

Grill with lid closed over med. coals or lava rocks, stir occasionally until vegetables are tender (approx. 10-12 minutes)