Whenever I go home--home to my parents' or home to my Godparents'--I have a certain ritual I end up doing. I am not home very often these days so I always end up walking around taking in all the changes that might have taken place between visits. (some, including my mother, might call it snooping.) New wall colors, different pillows, a table moved, the latest magazine or book on a nightstand...
and the newest clothes in her closet.
Thursday, after the service I found myself upstairs using the bathroom next to the master bedroom. Once in the hallway, I knew I had to go in. It is what I always did...check out the latest beauty products she was using or to see if she'd bought any new clothes or shoes I needed to borrow. I stepped in to the master bedroom like I always did, carefully making sure everyone was decent (I could hear her voice calling out to Dick...) and then heading to the back of the room and into the closet. Of course, no one was there this time.
The room held everything and nothing all at once.
As I made my way to the closet I was overwhelmed by the memories and conversations that came to me...rushing at me in a wave so hard and fast that I could no longer breathe or hold in my tears.
There wasn't a time I was in town, or a week (ok, a day) when I lived with them, that I wasn't borrowing some article of clothing or accessory from her closet. Whenever someone complimented me on a pair of shoes or a jacket or sweater...I'd fess up, "It's Carole's."
I had a few key pieces of hers that I liked to wear...the rest was just fun to try on. In all honesty, she wore much more color and pattern than I was comfortable in. She was also more hip than I...especially as I began to have kids and my clothes became spit rags more than actual items of clothing. She was always trying to get me to try a t-shirt with rhinestones or a v-neck that "went too far" in my estimation. (Both of these observations say more about my conservative style than her taste in clothes.) She had matching outfits--coordinated and finished off with jewelry. Over and over she'd say I looked good or jump up from her computer to find something she thought would work better. She'd put secretaries on hold or tell a colleague she'd call them back. She approached finding me the right outfit as if she had nothing else to do with her day.
Again, words are failing me. Picking out clothes was not our whole relationship...
A friend of mine, upon hearing of her death, wrote to me. In love, he wondered what on earth I would wear now...
Right now, grief and denial still fit very well. But I hope in my lifetime I can wear life with half her grace and style; passion and fight. I will wear her focus on self care and health. I will put on her optimism and delight. I hope her ability to put the best spin on a person or situation, fits me one day. I will walk steadily in her love and her pride in who I am. Her closet was full and I am so thankful I was a part of it.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Will it Ever be Ok? Nope.
I found this fitting and comforting...
A couple of weeks ago I hugged a friend goodbye, and as we both mutually cried for my Godmother, I whispered, "It will be ok. It will suck, but it will be ok."
I take it back.
It may never be ok. I believe and I trust that we will be fine (as in, held by God and loved) but it may never be ok that she suffered and died at 62 after a year long battle with cancer. And, that is ok.
**Jenell Paris' post is titled "A Post before Bed"
A couple of weeks ago I hugged a friend goodbye, and as we both mutually cried for my Godmother, I whispered, "It will be ok. It will suck, but it will be ok."
I take it back.
It may never be ok. I believe and I trust that we will be fine (as in, held by God and loved) but it may never be ok that she suffered and died at 62 after a year long battle with cancer. And, that is ok.
**Jenell Paris' post is titled "A Post before Bed"
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
My Godmother...
Carole J. Bland
I have much to say about the impact this woman had on my life, but can't formulate the words right now. Nothing I create seems to do justice to our relationship and so, I am going to let it be for now...simply sharing her obituary.
It has been nearly a year since she was diagnosed. My grief has been building to this point. Now it is time to go to the depth of my pain and as a friend said, "be with those who can help you come back up."
It has been nearly a year since she was diagnosed. My grief has been building to this point. Now it is time to go to the depth of my pain and as a friend said, "be with those who can help you come back up."
Friday, August 22, 2008
Your Silence Won't Protect You
"Your silence won't protect you in here." These words have stayed with me ever since the director of Abbot Northwestern Hospital's Clinical Pastoral Education program uttered them to me. I was a seminarian fulfilling my unit of required CPE. I have no memory of what the actual topic was but I can still feel the chair beneath me and see the office in my mind.
I wasn't completely sure of what he meant when he said it to me. During CPE, I was a chaplain in a children's hospital and responsible for one other floor in the "regular" hospital. Walking in and out of stranger's rooms put me way out of my comfort zone. So did the small group therapy sessions that happened with other chaplains during the week.
I'm an observer. I tend to stand back and watch a group before deciding how, or if, I will join in. At the time, I didn't fully understand how this bit of wisdom would relate to ministry...or life for that matter, but over the years it has played back in my mind time and time again.
Silence is often my amour of choice, and he was right, it doesn't protect me. It buys me time. It helps me calculate what is going on within a group. It allows this extrovert some time to think verse react, but it doesn't protect me. (Using extrovert as 'one who talks until they know what they think' verses an introvert who 'thinks until they know what they feel')
I am once again reminded of this phrase, this time in terms of marriage. I've known my husband since 1994. We were married in 2000. We know each other. We are good friends. We are very different. Communication is always tricky...perhaps especially when you know each other and are good friends. It is easy to assume the other knows what you want and need. It is very easy to assume the other thinks and needs the same thing in the same way they needed and felt in 1994.
It is also easy with two kids, a dog, house, jobs, sickness, grief, etc. to lose each other and to lose oneself. The wise words from the CPE director came back to me the other day when mid-let's just say it-fight, my husband said, "You need to tell me these things. I don't just know."
I was silent for a few reasons. One is, I fall victim to the fantasy that the love of your life should just know you; and two, if I don't say what I want, I don't run the risk of not getting it. The third, not so flattering one is, that it is easier to whine "I'm so misunderstood." than it is to do the work to be understood.
Peacebang writes a lovely entry about her summer of self care and as I read it I was overcome with jealously. It wasn't so much what she said, although she writes beautifully and has wise things to say, it was that she had the time to do the work. I should say, made the time. This is what I need, a time of reflection. I need the world to pause so I can breathe and catch up. Mine wouldn't/can't look exactly like her Summer of Prayer, and because I have fallen into a bit of 'martyr mom mode,' I just pout around mopey that I can't get a break. Silently fuming and fussing...grief and gripes piling up--I choose silence.
My silence won't protect me. It is, actually, hurting me. If I don't speak up and say what I need, there is no chance I will get it. Accusing others of denying me my needs isn't fair or true. Some of what I need, can't happen and I must make peace with that. In other cases, I don't know exactly what I am trying for...but silence isn't it.
I wasn't completely sure of what he meant when he said it to me. During CPE, I was a chaplain in a children's hospital and responsible for one other floor in the "regular" hospital. Walking in and out of stranger's rooms put me way out of my comfort zone. So did the small group therapy sessions that happened with other chaplains during the week.
I'm an observer. I tend to stand back and watch a group before deciding how, or if, I will join in. At the time, I didn't fully understand how this bit of wisdom would relate to ministry...or life for that matter, but over the years it has played back in my mind time and time again.
Silence is often my amour of choice, and he was right, it doesn't protect me. It buys me time. It helps me calculate what is going on within a group. It allows this extrovert some time to think verse react, but it doesn't protect me. (Using extrovert as 'one who talks until they know what they think' verses an introvert who 'thinks until they know what they feel')
I am once again reminded of this phrase, this time in terms of marriage. I've known my husband since 1994. We were married in 2000. We know each other. We are good friends. We are very different. Communication is always tricky...perhaps especially when you know each other and are good friends. It is easy to assume the other knows what you want and need. It is very easy to assume the other thinks and needs the same thing in the same way they needed and felt in 1994.
It is also easy with two kids, a dog, house, jobs, sickness, grief, etc. to lose each other and to lose oneself. The wise words from the CPE director came back to me the other day when mid-let's just say it-fight, my husband said, "You need to tell me these things. I don't just know."
I was silent for a few reasons. One is, I fall victim to the fantasy that the love of your life should just know you; and two, if I don't say what I want, I don't run the risk of not getting it. The third, not so flattering one is, that it is easier to whine "I'm so misunderstood." than it is to do the work to be understood.
Peacebang writes a lovely entry about her summer of self care and as I read it I was overcome with jealously. It wasn't so much what she said, although she writes beautifully and has wise things to say, it was that she had the time to do the work. I should say, made the time. This is what I need, a time of reflection. I need the world to pause so I can breathe and catch up. Mine wouldn't/can't look exactly like her Summer of Prayer, and because I have fallen into a bit of 'martyr mom mode,' I just pout around mopey that I can't get a break. Silently fuming and fussing...grief and gripes piling up--I choose silence.
My silence won't protect me. It is, actually, hurting me. If I don't speak up and say what I need, there is no chance I will get it. Accusing others of denying me my needs isn't fair or true. Some of what I need, can't happen and I must make peace with that. In other cases, I don't know exactly what I am trying for...but silence isn't it.
Friday Five from RevGalBlog
Here are five things to ponder about dates. I hope you'll play!
1) Datebooks--how do you keep track of your appointments? Electronically? On paper? Month at a glance? Week at a glance?
I have a datebook. It shows a week at a time. I like to see ahead and I like to use a pen/pencil--don't think the electronic would work for me. I have a master calendar on the fridge as well.
2) When was the last time you forgot an important date?
Rarely, if ever. (Friends and family: true or false?) Some sneak up on me. I find birthdays to be very important so have most acquaintances' and friends' (most...not all.) written on my calendars. This includes baptismal dates, anniversaries, deaths, due dates, etc.
3) When was the last time you went OUT on a date?
2005.
...no, let's see. Oh, oh...we went out for dinner sometime between July 07 and March of 08.
4) Name one accessory or item of clothing you love even though it is dated.
Most of my clothes fit into this category. I think they are still current and then when I think about when I first bought them, I realize a decade or more has gone by. Oops. (Plus, most no longer fit.)
5) Dates--the fruit--can't live with 'em? Or can't live without 'em?
I am not a fan of the date.
1) Datebooks--how do you keep track of your appointments? Electronically? On paper? Month at a glance? Week at a glance?
I have a datebook. It shows a week at a time. I like to see ahead and I like to use a pen/pencil--don't think the electronic would work for me. I have a master calendar on the fridge as well.
2) When was the last time you forgot an important date?
Rarely, if ever. (Friends and family: true or false?) Some sneak up on me. I find birthdays to be very important so have most acquaintances' and friends' (most...not all.) written on my calendars. This includes baptismal dates, anniversaries, deaths, due dates, etc.
3) When was the last time you went OUT on a date?
2005.
...no, let's see. Oh, oh...we went out for dinner sometime between July 07 and March of 08.
4) Name one accessory or item of clothing you love even though it is dated.
Most of my clothes fit into this category. I think they are still current and then when I think about when I first bought them, I realize a decade or more has gone by. Oops. (Plus, most no longer fit.)
5) Dates--the fruit--can't live with 'em? Or can't live without 'em?
I am not a fan of the date.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Overheard at the Pastor's House
When Mean Mommy attempted to put the markers away..."I was going to play with them, with Jesus." (Meaning the Fischer Price Jesus from his Nativity set.)
In a last ditch attempt to avoid bedtime..."I want a drink. (no luck) One more book...just one. (nope) I need to say prayers again. (nearly caved, but we had said all the prayers.) I waaaaannnntttt Body of Christ."
When I caught him poking his sister's forehead and told him not to touch her..."I looking for her cross."
"Mom, you locked me from my Bible." The hallway gate was up, blocking his access to his room.
In a last ditch attempt to avoid bedtime..."I want a drink. (no luck) One more book...just one. (nope) I need to say prayers again. (nearly caved, but we had said all the prayers.) I waaaaannnntttt Body of Christ."
When I caught him poking his sister's forehead and told him not to touch her..."I looking for her cross."
"Mom, you locked me from my Bible." The hallway gate was up, blocking his access to his room.
Friday, August 15, 2008
36 Years
Happy Birthday to me....a few hours early. A couple of years ago someone in my congregation passed along the idea of birthdays being our own personal 'new years.' I like that idea and plan to spend the weekend taking a deep breath in preparation for a new year.
I realize 36 isn't exactly, old, but I am beginning to understand what "older" people mean when they say they still feel young. I imagine we all carry with us parts from each age and time...setting down some 'us' at stages in our life, leaving some behind for good, picking up others decades later. Perhaps the trick is to never completely lose our grip on the best of what make us, us.
I am still a 6 year old playing with my imaginary brothers and sisters. Creating my own little world to live in.
I am still 10 talking a mile a minute and dancing around in joy.
I am still 16 and sure I have all the answers, even though it is often (always?) just bravado.
I am still 18 skiing through the snow tipped pine trees faster and faster, pushing myself to be better.
I am still 20 and looking around at all the options available for me. (and still often overwhelmed.)
I am still 22, wanting to save the world and make a difference. Having a great time with friends and exploring who I want to be.
I am still 25 and inspired by God's call to serve. In awe of how much there is to learn.
I am still 30, confident and calm...er. Creating a life that feels meaningful.
I am still 33, growing into new roles and fighting to remain true to me while others pull at my legs and heart.
I am 36. At peace with much, restless enough to keep pushing, and thankful for all the gifts I have been given.
For each of you who contribute to my life...thank you and here's to a new year.
I realize 36 isn't exactly, old, but I am beginning to understand what "older" people mean when they say they still feel young. I imagine we all carry with us parts from each age and time...setting down some 'us' at stages in our life, leaving some behind for good, picking up others decades later. Perhaps the trick is to never completely lose our grip on the best of what make us, us.
I am still a 6 year old playing with my imaginary brothers and sisters. Creating my own little world to live in.
I am still 10 talking a mile a minute and dancing around in joy.
I am still 16 and sure I have all the answers, even though it is often (always?) just bravado.
I am still 18 skiing through the snow tipped pine trees faster and faster, pushing myself to be better.
I am still 20 and looking around at all the options available for me. (and still often overwhelmed.)
I am still 22, wanting to save the world and make a difference. Having a great time with friends and exploring who I want to be.
I am still 25 and inspired by God's call to serve. In awe of how much there is to learn.
I am still 30, confident and calm...er. Creating a life that feels meaningful.
I am still 33, growing into new roles and fighting to remain true to me while others pull at my legs and heart.
I am 36. At peace with much, restless enough to keep pushing, and thankful for all the gifts I have been given.
For each of you who contribute to my life...thank you and here's to a new year.
Weighing Options
Do I...
have oatmeal, eggs or peanut butter toast for breakfast?
take Big Boy and EG to the park by our house or the one at the mall?
get coffee at Starbucks or make tea at home?
raise my voice even louder in an effort to get Big Boy's attention or try another tack?
write a blog entry or knit?
take a nap or do laundry?
stay home with the kids for the next two years or explore the call option I was offered on Sunday?
grow where I am planted or find more accommodating soil?
read Kathleen Norris' new book, Acedia & Me: Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life or finish up The Cross in Context?
create a class to teach at the church or wait to see how the fall shapes up and what projects come up?
keep making this list or let it go?
have oatmeal, eggs or peanut butter toast for breakfast?
take Big Boy and EG to the park by our house or the one at the mall?
get coffee at Starbucks or make tea at home?
raise my voice even louder in an effort to get Big Boy's attention or try another tack?
write a blog entry or knit?
take a nap or do laundry?
stay home with the kids for the next two years or explore the call option I was offered on Sunday?
grow where I am planted or find more accommodating soil?
read Kathleen Norris' new book, Acedia & Me: Marriage, Monks, and a Writer's Life or finish up The Cross in Context?
create a class to teach at the church or wait to see how the fall shapes up and what projects come up?
keep making this list or let it go?
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Must Haves for Summer Travel
Ok, because my only other option is to a) not write ( and when I do that some of the natives get restless...) b) whine (and when I do that I feel ridiculous and immature...) I have decided to post one of those silly, yet fun, "get to know your friend" polls. I choose this one in anticipation of summer travel. This one is from RevGalPals...
What are the five things you simply must have when you are away from home? And why? Any history or goofy things, or stories?
1. My pillow. It is just perfect and the only one I like. I choose to not bring it to my in-laws a few weeks ago and PAID the price. I've never experienced such high, hard pillows in all my life. My parents house is just the opposite...there I've never seen flatter pillows. Plus, having it helps me sleep in the car.
2. My toothbrush is an obvious answer.
3. Outside of those two...I am having a hard time coming up with things I MUST HAVE...(so, why did you choose this topic, one might ask?) Blistex chapstick is always with me.
4. A book, magazine, knitting or something to do in the car. (This was more so pre-kids...now they seem to find lots for me to do. In fact I demanded to drive the last time we went somewhere. It was to only way to relax.)
5. My hairdryer. I don't know that I must have it...but I always pack it.
(ok, if I am honest, I always pack makeup and my own shower soaps and shampoo/conditioner. But I don't HAVE to have them...)
These things are only fun if YOU join in...How about you?
What are the five things you simply must have when you are away from home? And why? Any history or goofy things, or stories?
1. My pillow. It is just perfect and the only one I like. I choose to not bring it to my in-laws a few weeks ago and PAID the price. I've never experienced such high, hard pillows in all my life. My parents house is just the opposite...there I've never seen flatter pillows. Plus, having it helps me sleep in the car.
2. My toothbrush is an obvious answer.
3. Outside of those two...I am having a hard time coming up with things I MUST HAVE...(so, why did you choose this topic, one might ask?) Blistex chapstick is always with me.
4. A book, magazine, knitting or something to do in the car. (This was more so pre-kids...now they seem to find lots for me to do. In fact I demanded to drive the last time we went somewhere. It was to only way to relax.)
5. My hairdryer. I don't know that I must have it...but I always pack it.
(ok, if I am honest, I always pack makeup and my own shower soaps and shampoo/conditioner. But I don't HAVE to have them...)
These things are only fun if YOU join in...How about you?
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Ok. Everyone, Back to School.
I have the summer time blues. Thankfully, they didn't hit until August this year. Last summer I spent nearly two months in a funk.
I'm ready for our schedules to pick back up again. Enough of this laying around until 7am and no plan for the day except going to a park, playing in the backyard pool and enjoying iced tea at a sidewalk cafe. Enough, already. Bring back a schedule...places to go and most importantly PEOPLE TO SEE.
How sad is it that I am serious? I think what is really getting me is the nagging guilt that I should be planning super duper fun days for Big Boy. Explore Nature Day or Color Red Day or Learn About Cooking Day. There is also added pressure (coming only from some self created La La Land within my mind) to have a perfectly clean, orderly house. During the other nine months I have outside projects and obligations that keep this pressure at bay...projects are so much more important than dust bunnies under the bed.
I realize I sound ridiculous, and that only makes me feel worse. :) The funk is on in full force.
Editors Note: I just reviewed this entry a few hours later...perhaps I shouldn't write when in a funk. At least not without offering a contest to see who can spot all my typos. :)
I'm ready for our schedules to pick back up again. Enough of this laying around until 7am and no plan for the day except going to a park, playing in the backyard pool and enjoying iced tea at a sidewalk cafe. Enough, already. Bring back a schedule...places to go and most importantly PEOPLE TO SEE.
How sad is it that I am serious? I think what is really getting me is the nagging guilt that I should be planning super duper fun days for Big Boy. Explore Nature Day or Color Red Day or Learn About Cooking Day. There is also added pressure (coming only from some self created La La Land within my mind) to have a perfectly clean, orderly house. During the other nine months I have outside projects and obligations that keep this pressure at bay...projects are so much more important than dust bunnies under the bed.
I realize I sound ridiculous, and that only makes me feel worse. :) The funk is on in full force.
Editors Note: I just reviewed this entry a few hours later...perhaps I shouldn't write when in a funk. At least not without offering a contest to see who can spot all my typos. :)
Click
Our digital camera broke a few weeks ago. Right before EG's monthly birthday photo and right before a family vacation. Seeing as I can't live without taking photos of my children and more importantly their grandparents miss them, I had to come up with a cheap solution.
A long time ago, say 5 to 10 years, disposable cameras were all the rage. My youth group loved going on photo scavenger hunts and every wedding I was at had them at the table. Yesterday, I bought two for our trip. (My husband did remind me that I could have just bought film for the other camera..."oh, yeah, film.")
The camera throughly confused Big Boy. "Wait, wait stay still a little longer. I need to wind the film to take the next photo."
"Mommy, why you say, wind the film?," he asked.
Then he got quite agitated when he couldn't look at the photo a second after I snapped it. I tried to explain the process of film and film developing...but I got a very glazed over look right before he said...
"Mommy, go get a real camera so I can see myself right now." Lovely. Just, lovely.
A long time ago, say 5 to 10 years, disposable cameras were all the rage. My youth group loved going on photo scavenger hunts and every wedding I was at had them at the table. Yesterday, I bought two for our trip. (My husband did remind me that I could have just bought film for the other camera..."oh, yeah, film.")
The camera throughly confused Big Boy. "Wait, wait stay still a little longer. I need to wind the film to take the next photo."
"Mommy, why you say, wind the film?," he asked.
Then he got quite agitated when he couldn't look at the photo a second after I snapped it. I tried to explain the process of film and film developing...but I got a very glazed over look right before he said...
"Mommy, go get a real camera so I can see myself right now." Lovely. Just, lovely.
Friday, August 08, 2008
All in One Read
Too Busy to Live? How to go from swamped to sane.
Get your life on track. How one small change can turn everything around.
48 Solutions: Love, Money, work--no problem!
12 Ways to Unclutter your home, car, mail even your mind.
Got 10 Mins? World's fastest fitness plan.
If you think you're too fat...to wear the new fall clothes, think again.
Never in all my life has one magazine cover fixed every problem I have. Plus, I can enter a sweepstakes to win $250,000.
One through read of September O Magazine and this Work in Progress will be a completed work 'o art. Won-der-ful!
Get your life on track. How one small change can turn everything around.
48 Solutions: Love, Money, work--no problem!
12 Ways to Unclutter your home, car, mail even your mind.
Got 10 Mins? World's fastest fitness plan.
If you think you're too fat...to wear the new fall clothes, think again.
Never in all my life has one magazine cover fixed every problem I have. Plus, I can enter a sweepstakes to win $250,000.
One through read of September O Magazine and this Work in Progress will be a completed work 'o art. Won-der-ful!
Training for the Olympics...
Stories about Olympic training have been all over the media lately. One was talking about 'muscle memory' the idea that you train over and over so that eventually your muscles just know what to do with very little mental effort from you.
Apparently, I have some variation on this theme. My imagine of myself as an athlete is so ingrained in my psyche, that I actually think of myself on the same plain as the athletes being interviewed on TV. I nod in total solidarity and understanding as they talk about their training with Matt Lauer and crew. "Oh, I know how those days go." I act as if I understand what they are going through and how hard they are working. I still see myself as that 20something competive athlete who devotes her entire day to her training and health.
Before I could hop a plane to Beijing in time to line up for the opening ceremonies...reality hit me. On Tuesday, while I was in the kitchen watching the kids each lunch, I did fifteen leg squats. No weights. Just bending down and up fifteen times in a row. (Now, mind you my form was perfect.)
Wednesday morning my quad muscles were sore. Sore, people!
Perhaps, getting a tighter grip on my athlete reality should be my first training goal.
Apparently, I have some variation on this theme. My imagine of myself as an athlete is so ingrained in my psyche, that I actually think of myself on the same plain as the athletes being interviewed on TV. I nod in total solidarity and understanding as they talk about their training with Matt Lauer and crew. "Oh, I know how those days go." I act as if I understand what they are going through and how hard they are working. I still see myself as that 20something competive athlete who devotes her entire day to her training and health.
Before I could hop a plane to Beijing in time to line up for the opening ceremonies...reality hit me. On Tuesday, while I was in the kitchen watching the kids each lunch, I did fifteen leg squats. No weights. Just bending down and up fifteen times in a row. (Now, mind you my form was perfect.)
Wednesday morning my quad muscles were sore. Sore, people!
Perhaps, getting a tighter grip on my athlete reality should be my first training goal.
Monday, August 04, 2008
Which Bacon, Dear?
(Ok, my friends I realize this blog is becoming a sob fest and is, frankly, beginning to worry people. :) Lest you think I have lost of of my pluck....here is an entry inspired by Sunday's grocery trip.)
Grocery shopping for me has long been the bane of my existence. I would enjoy it if it didn't take so many blasted steps. Pick out the food, put in cart, unload cart, bag food, carry to car, carry to house, unload...you know. I enjoy cooking and it is fun to pick out ingredients and wander (given the right store---another entry entirely.) I get how it could be wildly fun to wander about aimlessly looking for the freshest ingredients for an upcoming party or get together. I get it. I'm just SO not there right now.
Right about the time I began to enjoy cooking, I also had kids and food gathering became a necessity rather than an activity to savor.
I had a bit of a generational clash on Sunday at the grocery store. As it is with grocery shopping, the people you walk in the doors with is usually the gang you are going to shop with from produce to check out. Sure I may skip some of the aisles they hit and vice versa but some how we'll end up offering a passing smile to each other and saying, "Oh, excuse me..." a good five to ten times before bagging it all up and calling it a day.
I knew I was in trouble shortly after I grabbed a cart. I don't mind the elderly, or the young aimless twenty somethings and I empathize with those shopping with their kids...it is the dreaded empty nester's or 50 to 60 year olds that drive me crazy. Usually they show up together--husband and wife--after probably a good twenty years of one of them doing this task on their own. They are just beginning to figure out the rules of this new stage of life and decide to involve all of us in the process.
I bet these things are true:
Whoever use to do the shopping knows exactly what brands he or she likes to buy.
Whoever use to do the shopping had a set pattern for how he or she moved through the store.
Whoever use to do the shopping is a mite tired of it.
Now in this new territory, the one who use to be in charge of shopping makes concessions to the other or frankly no longer cares. There may even be a shift of job assignments, with a new kid trying to find ownership over this task and the other one trying to bite his or her lip as they watch the "new" way emerge. Or the one who hasn't done the shopping finds these aisle full of choices novel and exciting...their joy and glee may be endearing to the one who loves them but I find it just plain exhausting to work around.
The other option for their meandering is that they are looking for ways to spend time together now that they aren't running off in 20 directions. Sunday morning ambling over coffee and...broccoli. ??? Seriously folks, I can think of 100 other ways to be together.
Food is a basic need, and some of us need to get a move on.
On the day in mind, I followed a lovely couple. They paused to reflect on berries, on the lettuce, on the bananas. "How's this one?" "What do you think of these?" "Is this enough?" The biggest problem was they liked to stand apart from one another...she'd push on ahead with the cart and he'd be behind running back and forth to show her the goods. Or they'd stand on either side of the aisle and chat.
I thought I lost them around the deli cheeses, only for them to take a shortcut to catch me by the bacon and deli meats. He had moved on up the meat aisle and she was back selecting bacon. "Maybe we should try this bacon?" "Well, Hon, we've never had that one?" Her passion for the pig drew him in...leaving his cart mid-aisle he took off back to be with her. "Or look over there, another brand--do you think we'd like this one?" "How many do we need again, dear?"
Oh, for the LOVE of nitrates...pick one.
It was when she deferred to his opinion on which MILK to buy that I had to find away to leave them behind for good. It is milk people. Yes, there is a WIDE variety these days but I bet you know exactly what kind you drink.
So I hid with the peanuts for awhile (long enough for the guy stocking the shelves to wonder about me...) and then I inched back out to get my oatmeal.
I understand, I really, really do...transition is tough. But take the meandering and 'hem and hawing' and the "getting to know you again" stuff to Barnes and Nobel, (or therapy) some of us are hungry.
(Mom, and all the other wonderful 60 year old who read this...I know..I know. We'll understand someday. Forgive the rant of this mere 30 something.)
Grocery shopping for me has long been the bane of my existence. I would enjoy it if it didn't take so many blasted steps. Pick out the food, put in cart, unload cart, bag food, carry to car, carry to house, unload...you know. I enjoy cooking and it is fun to pick out ingredients and wander (given the right store---another entry entirely.) I get how it could be wildly fun to wander about aimlessly looking for the freshest ingredients for an upcoming party or get together. I get it. I'm just SO not there right now.
Right about the time I began to enjoy cooking, I also had kids and food gathering became a necessity rather than an activity to savor.
I had a bit of a generational clash on Sunday at the grocery store. As it is with grocery shopping, the people you walk in the doors with is usually the gang you are going to shop with from produce to check out. Sure I may skip some of the aisles they hit and vice versa but some how we'll end up offering a passing smile to each other and saying, "Oh, excuse me..." a good five to ten times before bagging it all up and calling it a day.
I knew I was in trouble shortly after I grabbed a cart. I don't mind the elderly, or the young aimless twenty somethings and I empathize with those shopping with their kids...it is the dreaded empty nester's or 50 to 60 year olds that drive me crazy. Usually they show up together--husband and wife--after probably a good twenty years of one of them doing this task on their own. They are just beginning to figure out the rules of this new stage of life and decide to involve all of us in the process.
I bet these things are true:
Whoever use to do the shopping knows exactly what brands he or she likes to buy.
Whoever use to do the shopping had a set pattern for how he or she moved through the store.
Whoever use to do the shopping is a mite tired of it.
Now in this new territory, the one who use to be in charge of shopping makes concessions to the other or frankly no longer cares. There may even be a shift of job assignments, with a new kid trying to find ownership over this task and the other one trying to bite his or her lip as they watch the "new" way emerge. Or the one who hasn't done the shopping finds these aisle full of choices novel and exciting...their joy and glee may be endearing to the one who loves them but I find it just plain exhausting to work around.
The other option for their meandering is that they are looking for ways to spend time together now that they aren't running off in 20 directions. Sunday morning ambling over coffee and...broccoli. ??? Seriously folks, I can think of 100 other ways to be together.
Food is a basic need, and some of us need to get a move on.
On the day in mind, I followed a lovely couple. They paused to reflect on berries, on the lettuce, on the bananas. "How's this one?" "What do you think of these?" "Is this enough?" The biggest problem was they liked to stand apart from one another...she'd push on ahead with the cart and he'd be behind running back and forth to show her the goods. Or they'd stand on either side of the aisle and chat.
I thought I lost them around the deli cheeses, only for them to take a shortcut to catch me by the bacon and deli meats. He had moved on up the meat aisle and she was back selecting bacon. "Maybe we should try this bacon?" "Well, Hon, we've never had that one?" Her passion for the pig drew him in...leaving his cart mid-aisle he took off back to be with her. "Or look over there, another brand--do you think we'd like this one?" "How many do we need again, dear?"
Oh, for the LOVE of nitrates...pick one.
It was when she deferred to his opinion on which MILK to buy that I had to find away to leave them behind for good. It is milk people. Yes, there is a WIDE variety these days but I bet you know exactly what kind you drink.
So I hid with the peanuts for awhile (long enough for the guy stocking the shelves to wonder about me...) and then I inched back out to get my oatmeal.
I understand, I really, really do...transition is tough. But take the meandering and 'hem and hawing' and the "getting to know you again" stuff to Barnes and Nobel, (or therapy) some of us are hungry.
(Mom, and all the other wonderful 60 year old who read this...I know..I know. We'll understand someday. Forgive the rant of this mere 30 something.)
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