Perfectly Me

While my hand is healing, I’m bringing out some favorite posts from the past many of you may not have seen. This was first posted in December, 2015.

“If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it.”
― W.C. Field

rollerskating girl
Not me. Not now, not ever.

I can’t roller skate.  Nor can I bowl,  or do a pull-up. I don’t expect to ever be able to do any of those things, and they’re no longer important to me. At one time they were, and that stayed with me for way too long. But I’ve gotten over it and accepted my limitations.

I didn’t stop trying to learn how to bowl until I was in my 30s, when finally someone told me it was acceptable not to have that particular skill.

He didn’t word it quite like that, however. We were at a bowling alley with a group from church, and he was splitting his time between reading a book and talking to others.  When I mentioned what a terrible bowler I was, he shrugged his shoulders and said, with a laugh, “Who cares? It’s not something I want to be known for anyway.”

Okay, a bit snobby. It did lead me to think, however, is this really me? Is it a goal of mine to be a better bowler, or is everyone else in my circle telling me it should be?

There’s a point where you ceaselessly persevere, and there’s a point where you say, is that even a skill I truly want to master? I had no real interest in bowling, I’d just been told over and over not to give up, I could do it if I tried.

But I couldn’t. I tried and tried, and my body would not cooperate. What’s more, I likely never would have gotten to a point where, even if I could hold my own in a game, I would have looked forward to it. I did not want to bowl.

Once I figured out that hanging onto a group of friends whose main activities I didn’t enjoy was fruitless, I was a lot happier. It took some time, but gradually I developed friendships with people whose faces lit up when they talked about doing the same things I wanted to do.

happy dance girl
Yes, I know, this isn’t a waltz!

That’s not to say I’ll always avoid everything I’m not particularly good at doing. I would love to be able to dance, an old-fashioned waltz, perhaps, but it’s fair to say even at my best I won’t be entering any contests. That’s not my goal, at least not at this point. Right now I’d be happy to keep the beat.

(I have learned something about dancing over the years…call it sexist, or call it practical, but as we all know, men lead. With a strong lead, even a woman who isn’t a good dancer looks good. So half my battle will be finding the right partner.)

I’m not limiting myself only to friends who share my interests, either. Some of my best friends (a-hem) are bowlers, and good ones at that.

I don’t have to be the best, or even particularly good, at any given skill to enjoy doing it. I have my expert talents, and I have those I fumble with.  It’s that mix of abilities and experience that makes me who I am, perfectly me.

Thumbs Up!

Sometimes the little things really do us in.

I tore a ligament in my thumb, apparently while moving into my new place,  and now have a “soft cast” to immobilize my hand.  Immobilized it is…writing, as well as buttoning my pants and using deodorant, is downright laborious. The pants and hygiene are necessary, but the writing is slowing down for the time being.

My apologies to all of you for not being as responsive to your blogs as I’d like. Once my hand is free, I plan to spend some time exploring what my fellow bloggers have been posting.

In the meantime, my cats are  thrilled.  Mama can’t write and can’t knit, so what does that leave?  Snuggle time!

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Image Credit:  © Andrew Adams — Adobe Stock

Drive On, Sweet Wheels

Nineteen short months ago I became the proud owner of a brand-new Prius C (what I call the “baby Prius,” because it’s the smallest of the brand). It gave me numerous freedoms, such as being able to drive outside the county, which I couldn’t before in my rattletrap 1996 Accord. Too risky. “Not if it will break down,” my mechanic told me, “but when. You need friends nearby who can pick you up.”

More than that, it allows me to affordably make the ten-hour drive to my mom’s apartment. That quickly became necessary following her surgery last winter, as well as later to easily attend her 80th birthday party. And a couple of other trips.

This week, I made the drive for my aunt’s funeral. It was important to my mom that I be there, therefore, it was important to me.

I’ve got the radio stations programmed. I know when to leave to avoid traffic in all three metro areas. I plug into weather.com before taking off for the outlook during the entire trip.

Best of all, I load up on Tab for my trip home. Long before Diet Coke, there was Tab, and it’s back. In a couple of states.

Corn field landscape with storm clouds off in the distance
This is the view for a good deal of my trip. Acres and acres of corn. And more acres of corn beyond that. Lots and lots of corn.

At first, I truly enjoyed the drive. Now it’s something to endure. Especially two of the last three hours, both ways.

Before I left this week I got two audio books from the library. The first had an annoying narrator, but the second I’m okay with. Not a book I would probably read, but easy to follow, even when I drift off.  And a pleasant story. For a few hours.

There’s a part of the drive I love. Don’t laugh until you’ve been there. It’s the Lamoni, Iowa rest stop (northbound). It’s beautiful, and staffed by a woman in their tourist area who’s pleasant, talkative and informative.

Not just a latrine in the woods. This is special.

Of course that’s maybe ten, fifteen minutes, if I’m willing to give that time up. I at least stop in the rest room.

Gifts and acquisitions have their price. In this case, I get over that cost quickly — as soon as I open the door back home and desperately try to keep the cats from running outside. But I no longer look forward to the drive, and I miss that anticipation.

However, I do look forward to seeing that bright red Prius parked in front of my house each morning. So I consider those 20 hours on the road a blessing.

Photo Credit: © Bigstock.com

Slog

Peace, I Pray, For All

Yesterday I posted about my aunt’s death. I mentioned her daughter and granddaughter, who both preceded her in death. I want to remember them now with this picture taken a year before Zoë died in a car accident.

Sadly, Jenna was driving, although as far as I know, she was never faulted in the accident. Her best friend, Angel, also died in that crash. Angel was 25, and Zoë was four. Angel’s daughter, age five, survived and was raised by Angel’s father, who was only 41 when his only daughter died.

Jen died of an overdose four years ago. She was struggling with sobriety when she lost her daughter, and was never able to overcome her addiction.

It doesn’t take much to read the pain in this situation, and some of you have known your own tragic losses and have a blessed compassion. To all who suffer, I wish you peace here on earth.

I believe in an eternal and loving God, and a life everlasting in His presence. I pray they are living in that love now.

jen-and-zoe
Jen and Zo, December 24, 2000

Jennifer Content Moulton

October 12, 1977 – July 8, 2012

Rest in peace, Jenna, may you have found joy at last. I was always, always proud to call you my cousin.


Zoë Patricia Kloster

October 23, 1997 – December 2, 2001

Rest in peace, Zoë, the world was made brighter for the brief time we had you with us.

Rest in Peace

My aunt died this morning, one week after her 70th birthday. It was sudden, yet not surprising.

I’d be lying if I said we were close. She lived her life in such a way I couldn’t be part of it, nor could most of her family. The courts kept her away from her grandchildren. Her only child, my cousin Jenna, died four years ago of an overdose. Her oldest grandchild, Jen’s little girl, died 14 years ago in a car accident.

Yet all lives matter. There are some good memories, and I choose to keep those close. More importantly, she was my mom’s sister, and there is a bond there that cannot be broken. My mom is mourning her loss, and therefore, I am, too.

It’s funny how we swing to the good when someone dies. We want to remember them as their best selves. I pray she is able to be that person now.

Rest in peace, Mary Carol. Say hi to Jenna and Zoë for us.

mary-and-jenna-dec-82
Jenna and Mary, December 1982 (with Humphrey)