Not Sherry

My husband, Kim, and I went to the movies last night. We don’t go to the movies a lot, but if there is something worth the price tag of a night at the movies, we’ll go. That doesn’t keep us from complaining about the price, and it doesn’t end with the tickets!

I suppose we shouldn’t complain about the price. We live in an area of the country where, especially this time of year, there are a lot of senior citizens. According to AARP Kim and I are seniors, but not at the movies. At the movies you have to be 60 to be considered a senior. That’s not us, but thank goodness a lot of these young kids that work the box office have been raised with good manners, and they don’t ask. They look us over pretty good and just give us the senior price. Haven’t decided if I’m grateful or insulted. I blaming it on Kim and his gray goatee.

A senior ticket cost $9.64. Doesn’t matter if it’s a night showing or a matinee, always $9.64. Seems like a weird price. Do the math on two tickets and it comes out to $19.28. Even weirder. A regular adult ticket costs $12.60 for an evening show. Ouch! Given the difference between adult and senior, I’ve decided I’m grateful for gray goatees and good manners.

Inside they don’t care. Popcorn is popcorn. Doesn’t matter how old you are. We purchased a medium bag and a bottle of water. Let’s be clear here. One popcorn, one bottle of water. $7.99 for the popcorn and $4.95 for a bottle of water! Dasani, not Perrier. Total, $12.94! I smiled. You have to see the humor in a $5.00 bottle of water, that’s essentially California tap water.

In real life a case of 24 bottles of Dasani water costs $4.98. You’ll remember we just paid $4.95 for one! If Walmart sold that water for movie prices, those 24 bottles would cost $118.80! Yikes! I understand the need to make a profit, and I’ve heard that movie theaters make their money on the concessions, not the movie. No kidding! I’m pretty sure we have moved well beyond profit, and we’re looking for a different word here. After all, Walmart is making a profit too. They are selling that same bottle for .21 cents. If I were to pay $2.50 at the theater I think it would be fair to both of us. The popcorn is harder to figure out, but I’m going to give it to them, though bite down on a hard kernel and you could be looking at a trip to the dentist. If that were to happen, we’d have to re-evaluate.

Kim and I enjoyed the movie, the popcorn, and the water. As we were leaving he handed me the bottle, “Drink that last sip. It’s worth .50 cents”. Good point. I finished it off!

 

I was searching for an anniversary card for my son and daughter-in-law the other day, and I mean searching! You wouldn’t have thought it would have taken me so long. It wasn’t like there was a lot to choose from, and the ones that were “topic” appropriate, weren’t appropriate at all! I settled for a blank one. I could write something infinitely better than what these knuckleheads were being paid to write!

I enjoy funny cards as well as sentimental ones. Depends on the occasion and what feelings I’m trying to convey. I do not find demeaning cards amusing, nor bathroom humor, nor sophomoric sex jokes. To even use the word humor in context with those things is a grave disservice to the word. And yes, I roll my eyes at people who think it’s funny.

If you give your spouse an anniversary card that says, “They say married people live longer”, to which the other person responds, “It only feels like it”, don’t be surprised if your spouse gives you a card with the number of a divorce attorney on it! Who thinks a card like that is amusing? If you do, you’re in the wrong relationship!

Ellen DeGeneres once said that, “If you have to say, ‘just kidding’, you’re not doing it right. If you’re just kidding, we’d both be laughing”. You have to look hard at some of these greeting cards to find anybody laughing. If you stumble across one that would make everybody laugh, buy it! Buy them all!

The sentimental ones can be a little easier, but a lot of time they say too much, filling both inside pages leaving me with barely enough room to sign my name. What if I wanted to say something? “Sorry, leave that to the professionals!” Other times they don’t say enough and you kind of wonder if they even tried. Now you have to do half their job for them and come up with just the right words, when that is why you bought the card in the first place!

Kevin James did a comic bit about women buying greeting cards. It was pretty funny and fairly accurate. We do take forever. Guilty as charged. He said we look, and think, then look some more. We are on the hunt, which requires patience. Once we find the perfect card we check the price, then put it back! Been there, done that! What are they printing these cards on? Must be something very rare! I finally decided on an appropriate card, funny, yet not insulting. I flipped it over and saw $6.95! It went back! How about we find something “perfect” in the $3.95 range! It’s got four words on it! Six tops, for crying out loud! Tell you what. I won’t complain about paying $6.00 if the creative think tank does a little more creative thinking.

 

 

Yesterday marked the beginning of Lent. The holiest season of the Christian calendar. So, what pops into my head? Fiddler on the Roof. That’s right, a Jewish musical with Tevya singing that catchy tune, “Tradition”.

Lent is a season of tradition. One of sacrifice, penance, reflection, preparation. A Catholic myself, I’m quite versed in the tradition of giving something up for Lent. I gave up coffee once. It didn’t go well. I don’t think the idea behind self denial was to make everyone else’s life miserable, so I won’t be doing that again. You’re welcome.

There is something beautiful about traditions. Everyone has them. Some are steeped in religion, others may be societal. Many have family connections, a few may be personal, held only by us. However they are formed, the reasons are pretty much the same. Traditions bring us comfort. They give us a sense of belonging, help us reconnect, and bring us together. Traditions, especially religious ones, reinforce values. They are a pathway to creating lasting memories. No matter what traditions we hold, or how we celebrate them, they bring to us a place where we can stop, breathe, and reflect.

Several years ago, after the coffee fiasco, I changed my Lenten tradition. Instead of giving something up for Lent, except for meat…I mentioned I’m Catholic, right? We don’t eat meat on Fridays during Lent. It’s not done. It’s “tradition”…instead, I decided to do something. To change something about myself that was less than it should be. Life is a journey full of distractions.

For me Lent has become a 40 day spiritual course correction.  What was once a tradition of dread is now a tradition of opportunity. An opportunity to get a stronger grip on being the person I’m suppose to be. I’m not always successful about making a lasting change, but sometimes I do. And if not…if you catch me during those 40 days of Lent, well it’s then I’m at my best self. It’s my tradition.

 

 

I’ve heard a lot of people say, “I remember exactly where I was”. I don’t. I had to have been at home, but I don’t remember being there. I do remember what I saw and saying aloud to nobody but myself, “What just happened?” I think that’s how everybody felt, including those who were suppose to know what just happened.

30 years ago, January 28, at 11:39 a.m. EST people around the world all said the same thing, “What just happened?” With seconds ticking into minutes, one by one reality washed over us. Challenger had just exploded. It was not the first space exploration disaster and it wouldn’t be the last, but the loss of those seven lives…we all remember.

I have always been in awe of astronauts. Who hasn’t? Being an astronaut is the brass ring of all job titles, affording you a swagger beyond Maverick in Top Gun. It’s awesome! I would love to be an astronaut, sort of, if it didn’t involve hurtling through space at 18,000 miles per hour on the back of two rocket boosters and a solid fuel tank that sounds dangerous from the get-go, because it is! I have to take Dramamine to board an airliner! Outer space may be a step or two beyond my comfort level.

I spent five years chasing the shuttle. “Scrub”, “Scrub”, “Scrub”. I hate that word! I slept on the floor of Ben’s (son) dorm room for a week in hopes of getting to see the launch of Atlantis, only to have it all end in “launch scrubbed”! Once Mariah (daughter) and I were halfway to Cape Canaveral when it was announced on the radio, “shuttle launch is scrubbed for today”! In 2011 Mariah, Dusty (son-in-law), and I sat for five hours at Space View Park in Titusville, with what seemed like a million other people when word came, “launch scrubbed”! Uncle!!! I get it! It’s not meant to be! Kim (husband) would be disappointed for me, but he would be happier to keep what was left of our savings intact for a rainy day, not another launch day! At that time we were still living in Colorado, so my mission was getting to be an expensive one.

July 8, 2011 was to be the last launch of the space shuttle…ever! The end of an era! I decided to skip it. I had already made too many trips to capture this elusive bird. If it happened, I would watch it on television, but Ben and Mariah protested! “You can’t! You want it too badly! It’s important to you! You’ll be forever disappointed if you don’t try!” So, one last time I boarded a plane to Florida, to try. This time was to be “the” time. I saw it! I felt it! There are no words big enough. I shared the experience with Mariah. She couldn’t have cared less about the space program or the shuttle launch, but she knew it meant the world to me. I stood there beaming, with tears running down my face, watching Atlantis disappear out of sight, and then marveled at the rumble that followed long after she had escaped. Mariah hugged me tight. Her face was beaming too! It’s been almost six years. My eyes still overflow and my throat tightens just thinking about it.

Ben, while working for Signature Flight Support, was awarded the opportunity of a lifetime. On April 19th, 2012, the day before his 26th birthday, he towed the space shuttle Discovery nose to nose with the Enterprise at the Udvar-Hazy, Smithsonian Air & Space Museum, while former Discovery commanders walked alongside. When he was interviewed about the experience he got the same choked up throat and brim filled eyes that I have. He was to be a part of taking Discovery home; NASA’s workhorse, the oldest and most traveled shuttle, an icon that had flown 39 missions, to look closely upon her skin and see the battle scars of space…what an experience, what an honor.

On February 1, 2003 at 9:12 a.m., 17 years after Challenger, almost to the day and time, our nation would lose Columbia and seven more astronauts. The nation mourned and I believe we still do, but we honor those who have gone before by going again, each time a little farther. Astronauts eagerly await the completion of Orion. The next manned spacecraft. Why? For science? For discovery? Why for the adventure, of course! To go out there. Through them, I get to go too.

 

 

 

It was 5:30 when Kim & I were awakened by the sound of a strong wind driving heavy rain. Moments later all that was light went dark. The power was out. The storm that we had been warned about was upon us. And now a new sound. What is it? Where is it coming from? It’s an alarm and it’s coming from the phone. “Tornado warning! Take shelter immediately!”

This is Florida, not Kansas! Where would you suggest we go? It’s not like we have basements here! The water table ranges from one to six feet and this storm was promising to make the water table above ground, not below it! So, what do we do? We do what everyone does who didn’t grow up in the midwest. We look out the window! Just what did we think we’d see at 5:40 in the morning with the power out?

I decided the best course of action was to put some clothes on. If my home was going to blow away in the next few minutes, and I was going to be homeless, I needed to be dressed. Made sense at the time. Still makes sense, but what I did next does not. I crawled back into bed. Kim never got out of it! Oh don’t lecture me! I know what we should have done. We should have climbed into the bathtub. It’s the center most part of the apartment. The center most part of the building. That would have been the smart thing to do until the danger had passed. Somehow it didn’t cross my mind at the time. Being cozy in bed when we ended up in Oz did.

By 7:00 the storm had begun to settle, but the aftermath was just beginning. Let’s address the immediate problem. No power, which means no coffee! Things are serious! A breakfast of cold cereal and then we needed to begin thinking about how to handle the coffee situation. One of the neighbors had made a coffee run for him and his wife to the 7/11  a few miles away that had a generator, and a line out the door waiting for the same thing!  At some point we’ll need his justification for failing to take coffee orders from the rest of us! A serious breach of neighbor etiquette! A short walk around the neighborhood revealed a few bigger problems than coffee, though obviously a hot cup of joe would go a long way to being able to deal with the situation more clearly.

Palm fronds had been stripped from trees and were littering roadways and sidewalks. Two palm trees had been sliced through at ground level, as if they had been cut by a saw. One lay on the ground. The other was teetering on the brink of disaster waiting to happen, braced against another tree. One palm tree had its top half blown off. I have no idea where it ended up. Large oak trees had branches snapped and two had been completely uprooted. Pool furniture had been blown around and upturned. Debris was everywhere and that was just our neighborhood. A transformer had blown up and power lines were down all over the county. We live very near the the Naples airport, where wind gusts were measured at 83 mph. Planes had been blown around and Judge Judy’s jet ended up on its tail with its nose in the air. A jet! Naples was a mess and there is plenty of work to be done to clean up, but fortunately no one was hurt, not here anyways.

Now for lessons learned. When there is a tornado warning, move immediately to the bathroom! Don’t get dressed, close the blinds, and go back to sleep! When the weather service warns that a severe thunderstorm is coming, they mean “severe”! Time to gas up the car, if for no other reason than being able to go in search of coffee while you wait for Florida Power & Light to get everything up and running again. After all, there are priorities!

2016 has just begun and it seems to me that we put way too much pressure on a fresh calendar. “It’s going to be a great year”, “Can’t wait for 2016”, “Thank goodness 2015 is over”, “I hope 2016 is better than 2015!” In fact, 2016 is just a year. It’s what we put into that makes it what it is.

Remember all the excitement and trepidation that went along with the turn of the century? The year 2000! Some were absolutely sure this was the end of civilization as we know it. Computers just were not equipped to read the date. There was going to be a worldwide crash! What would happen? The possibilities were endless, the results catastrophic! What happened at midnight that fateful day, 16 years ago, was a toast to the end of the 20th century, a kiss to welcome the 21st century, and in the morning all felt pretty much the same as it did the day before, because it pretty much was.

Then there was 2012! The end of the Mayan calendar! This was it! The end of the world! Ordinary people were searching the heavens for the great meteor that would put an end to our little blue ball in the solar system we call home. Not that anything was ever written saying 2012 would be it. The end! Just that the Mayan calendar only went that far. Talk about jumping to conclusions! The Mayan civilization was amazing and far advanced beyond the period of time in which they flourished, but it pretty much fell apart around 900 A.D.! For them 2012 would have been reaching so far into the future as to seem ridiculous. For me, I’m not throwing in the towel based on the last calendar created by people who never thought to develop indoor plumbing. Then again, there was a short moment of pause, followed by a double take, when the head of a small statue, a Mayan replica our daughter had brought back from Chichen Itza in the Yucatan, fell off and landed on the dresser. It didn’t break into pieces. It just lay there at the feet of the figurine like an ancient ruin. The date, January 10, 2012. Hmmm?

Now it’s 2016. I haven’t heard any dire predictions for this year. No great expectations. I suspect this year will be what we make of it. For some of us it will be filled with great blessings, adventures, love, and happiness. For others there will be trials, challenges, overwhelming sadness, even grief. For most of us there will be a mixture of both. It’s a blank slate just waiting to be filled up. 365 days lined up in a row to be lived. What? Wait! Make that 366 days!  Leap year! A bonus day! Turns out 2016 is pretty special after all!

Several years ago a good friend gave me an advent calendar she had made. It has clay figures that velcro onto a Christmas tree that is topped by a star on Christmas Eve. I look forward to putting it up every year. Every year but this year. This year those little clay snowflakes, hearts, stockings, and angels are dog’in me.

Every morning I dig another figurine out of its pocket and place it on the tree. One day closer, and a very visual reminder of just how far behind I am! Everything started off fine. I had my Christmas letter written. I bought the cards, and then suddenly things started to fall apart.

I think it all started with Thanksgiving. Our son and his family were making a move and requested a little help in making that happen. It was the weekend before Thanksgiving. No problem! We can have this wrapped up and still have plenty of time for Thanksgiving cooking….sort of. Moving took three days! It involved several hours of packing, not to mention even more hours on the road. First north, then south, then west before I was finally home. Alright. Three days before I need to head east again for turkey. We’re still good.

I was home exactly one week when I got a call asking if I could come up to Melbourne for a little emergency alteration work on Ben’s uniform. Being a family of vertically challenged individuals there is no such thing as wearing “off the rack”! His uniform was arriving on Tuesday afternoon and he was shipping out on Wednesday morning. No time for a professional. He would have to make do with me. “Can do”, but it meant that I needed to power shop NOW for out of town family, where gifts needed to be shipped. I’ve got this!

A four hour drive up, my sewing machine in tow, I went to work Tuesday evening and was on my way back home Wednesday afternoon. But…Friday would be our grandson’s first birthday. I can’t miss that! They asked why I didn’t just stay? Stay? I can’t stay! It’s Christmastime! I don’t have four free days to just kick back and enjoy! There are cards to be written, stuffed, addressed, and stamped. Presents to be purchased and wrapped. No, I couldn’t just stay.

Friday morning I was back on the road. I would be there for my grandson’s 1st birthday. We had plans! A trip to the zoo, followed by a very special birthday cupcake, and lots of presents to open. It was all good fun and worth the effort. Saturday morning though, I needed to head back to Naples. Kim had a new job and the company Christmas party was that evening. If I left before lunch I could squeeze in a nap before the festivities were to begin. Of course dinner was scheduled for 8:00! 8:00?! What am I, 20!? Now was not the time to make a fuss about my bedtime being closer to 9:00, and that 8:00 was a more appropriate hour for coffee and dessert. Instead we would have a snack and pretend we were cosmopolitan. Dinner at 8:00, followed by a show starting at 10:00 was perfect! Oh dear!

I forgot to mention that a few days earlier my son-in-law called and asked if I would mind coming to Boca on Sunday to help him study for his paramedic final. Of course I would be happy to help! If cars had frequent driver miles I would be racking them up! After being up to midnight the night before I set the alarm for way too early. Dusty needed study time and I needed to make sure that two hour drive didn’t cut into it. I arrived early and we studied late. Monday morning Dusty was well prepared and on his way to class, and I was once again on my way home.

This time I would be home a week before packing the car once again. Saturday morning the entire family would be off to Disney World. A combined late birthday celebration for our grandson, and a family Christmas gathering. We were all looking forward to it, but that meant I needed to finish shopping for our son and his family. Because of work schedule conflicts we wouldn’t be able to share Christmas with them until the 26th, but that didn’t mean their presents needed to be late. I just needed to shop faster! Pressure, pressure, pressure!!! Turns out Ben has to work Christmas day, so all my extra efforts were for naught, but that’s besides the point!

It was a fabulous weekend! Magical as always, and extra special because we were all together. Finally a break in the craziness so that it really felt like Christmas.

Upon returning home Sunday evening, it was time to attach more figurines to the advent calendar, to get caught up on the days I had missed. Whoa! Are you kidding!? Only four more days till Christmas Eve!? I have shopping to do! One more gift was needed for Kim, and I hadn’t even begun to shop for Mariah and Dusty! How did it get so late?! How did it slip by!? I have never been this far behind! Yet there it was, staring me in the face! That darn calendar! Tick, tick, tick! Well, looking at it isn’t going to change anything. Grab the checkbook and the credit card. I gotta get going!

Tuesday I finished with two days to spare! That’s right! I’m amazing! That morning I walked into the kitchen and placed the second to last piece on the advent calendar. For the first time in a month it didn’t seem like it was taunting me. For the first time in 23 days I could listen to Christmas music with joy in my heart, memories of Christmases past, and the hope of what’s to come. For the first time this December I looked at that advent calendar, placed another figurine on the tree knowing we were one day closer to that all important day, and thought of my dear friend who made that calendar for me those years ago as a marker of anticipation, not dread. And now it was.

 

Thanksgiving kicks off the holiday season with an enormous meal shared with family and friends. It can be a wonderful gathering, but there is a lot of pressure that goes along with these get-togethers, and sometimes it’s not just the potato pot that boils over. For me, though, this was not that year. It was nothing but fun spent with our daughter and son-in-law, along with his parents and grandmother. Not only are we family, we are friends, or so it seemed until the deck of cards came out.

“Today princess! How about you play sometime today!”, “Those aren’t the rules! You can’t change the rules!”, “You’re cheating! Did anyone else see him cheat?!”, “Are you going to talk, or are you going to play?” There was some colorful name calling, but the jabbing was all in good fun. Then Marti (mother-in-law) said, “I just realized we need to be nice to Sheri´. We could all end up in her blog.” I never thought of that, but suddenly I was wielding a mighty big sword in the way of a pen…I mean keyboard. As Kim (husband) often says, “Never pick a fight with someone who buys ink by the barrel”. Hmmm…it feels strangely empowering to own barrels of ink!

Not that it did me any good. They still stole cards I wanted. Still laughed when I got stuck with tons of points, when points were the enemy. Had no problem sending me back to start all over. Whatever! All I have to say is that they gave me a lot to think about. You better watch your backs. My blog could be the least of your worries. You all could end up in my next book, where I write chapters, not paragraphs! That’s right Marti! Bet you’re wishing you could rethink that last move now, aren’t ya?!

A couple of months ago somebody in Orlando lost their King Cobra! What!? You heard me. Their cobra! It wasn’t called a pet, and the person who lost it had a permit to have it. Let’s stop right there! Why would someone be issued a permit to have a cobra that did not have “zoo”, “university life science department”, “world anti-venom laboratory” in their name or title, instead of just “crazy”! Oh I know that “crazy” isn’t politically correct. Don’t really care! You keep cobras in your home you have earned the moniker! You lose that cobra and I’m going to ramp up that moniker to “insane”!

Over the weekend I read in the paper about a Asian Monocled Cobra on the loose. This one near Ft. Myers! Are you kidding me!? How many people are harboring these serpents in their homes? Hasn’t anyone heard of a dog, cat, hamster even?! You want something exotic go with a chinchilla, perhaps a sugar glider. All good choices.

King cobras pack enough venom in one bite to kill 20 people or one elephant. Since the United States is decidedly short on elephants, I’m pretty sure who is drawing the short straw. The Asian monocled cobra is somewhat less nasty. Its bite will take 60 minutes to kill you, but kill you it will. Just how much cobra anti-venom do we have on hand here in the U.S.? One would think with these two incidences happening close to each other in time and space here in Florida, we might need to know!

Cobras don’t make good pets and they make worse neighbors. The first cobra was on the lamb for more than a month. Kids at the local school weren’t allowed to play outside for two weeks. It was finally found by an unsuspecting woman in her garage doing laundry. She heard a hiss coming from under the dryer. A good argument for dry cleaning. The second cobra was found more quickly. It only took a couple of days. He was spotted about town a few times before he was captured behind a garbage can next to a house. In both these cases the owners had permits to have them, but they failed to notify authorities immediately upon noticing they were missing. Seriously? How about we send all cobras home. Not to their permitted home, but to their Thailand, India, China, southeast Asia home. They like it there. I like them better there. I’m not a fan of these snakes, but they are just being themselves…snakes. I ask you, who is the really bad neighbor here?

Kim and I just returned from a week in Phoenix celebrating his dad’s 90th birthday! We threw a nice party for him and old friends gathered to wish him well and congratulate him on this milestone. I heard a few people congratulate him on this accomplishment and I thought to myself, “accomplishment?” There isn’t much to accomplishing a birthday. They happen every year. All you have to do is wake up every morning for 365 days and there you are, another birthday! But, there is something special about 90! Not everyone is blessed to see that number and not everyone who sees that number is blessed to be there.

My father-in-law is one of the blessed ones. His health isn’t perfect. He actually has cancer, but you wouldn’t know it. He golfs every week, walking the course even. He looks 15 years younger than his age. He still serves his church. He gardens and continues to build things with his hands. Whatever happens from here is all bonus.

I do wonder, though, why some people get those bonus years and others don’t? Is it just good genes, healthy living, luck of the draw, fate, destiny, perhaps a combination of all those things? My own dad died at 67. No bonus years there. Am I jealous? A bit. I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t. I miss my dad, but I’m glad Kim is still able to share his life, his thoughts, his dreams with his dad. I remind him often not to take that for granted.

Time with family can become a drama that will rival any Hollywood movie, but not this time. This time a fast paced week slipped away quickly as we shared memories, laughter, fears, and dreams with some of the people we love most in the world. Most importantly we shared time. No gift wrapped up in pretty paper, topped by a bright, colorful bow can come close to matching the treasure of time.

Pick up the phone. Drop a short note. Send a text. Visit. Let the people in your life know just important they are to you. You may not get bonus years, but in the end time spent together, time spent talking to one another, no matter how you do it…that’s the real bonus.