JULY 4--MOMMA AND HER PAPOOSE

           I cannot imagine a more fitting way to honor Independence Day than by contemplating the joyful way I've LOST my independence...on a wintry day 43 years ago....
    

First Strike against My Independence

Date: January 17th, 1972, at 12:06 pm  
Location:  St Ann's Hospital Delivery Room, Chicago
Occasion: Birth of first papoose, Matthew Nicholas Newsted

               
  Second Strike (still in there "swinging"):

Date:  September 24th, 1973, at 3:59 am

Location: Same as above

Occasion: Birth of second papoose, Nicole Loryn Newsted

Third Strike (and then I was "out"!):

Date: August 31st, 1976, at 10:30 pm

Location:  Same

Occasion: Birth of third papoose, Jeffrey David Newsted

          Why "papoose"?  Because I have a dearly loved statue from a favorite New Mexican artist, Esta Bain.  It sits on the table next to my "throne", the right side of my sofa, where I "rule" whenever I'm home and awake (or asleep over my bedtime reading). 

                           

                  MOMMA AND HER PAPOOSE

                 ALWAYS BY MY SIDE

    
           When my papooses inevitably left my arms, and flew away from my sheltering blanket, I gained back some independence.  A sweet irony--by that time I didn't really care to be "free"--their adulthood had already relieved me of many motherly concerns.  I also realized that I was incredibly "dependent" upon my love and concerns for them.
     
          Their lives changed, they gained their independence--until my sons both became husbands and fathers and homeowners.  

And then they lost their "freedom" in the sweetest, most loving ways.     Now I have three beautiful grandchildren to hug under my blanket.

Independence is highly overrated!

      

JULY 3--CUTENESS THEN AND NOW

       So this blog-writing has me sorting through old photos, some of which I have already flaunted.  In trying to show how CUTENESS runs in families (mine), I looked for a few comparative family photos.  
    
       My grandchildren are famously adorable, as the world now knows.  I present a few examples, alongside some not-too-exact older photos.

       There's the loving shots of cousins being pals--first my cousin Teri and I--then my grandson Jake kissing his cousin Rosie during their toddler days:
     

     

          The cuteness gene glaringly apparent!  Jake and Rosie have remained good friends, and it's a joy watching them together.

       I have bravely published some bathing suit cuteness from my toddler days...and I now present my granddaughter Bella putting a 21st century "sassy spin" on the bathing suit pose:

 

  

      My life--in these pictures--what a gift!  I'm watching my three grandchildren, Jake (now 7), Rosie (6) and Bella (4) with such awe.  They are embracing their days with fresh new eyes, like my eyes staring out of those old photos.

     

      I wish joy for them, I wish that I could smooth out their paths and guide them around those hurdles which life will clunk down in their way.  But that little girl in those old photos somehow found her way to her NOW.

    

       And it's a good NOW, made up of all the old photos and days among years that lead me to this birthday month.  I wish to celebrate this NOW with every blog this month.

     

     That's my birthday present to myself.

JULY 2--TODDLER MEMORIES!

     My early toddler years were very carefully chronicled, because I was a FIRST CHILD, so my parents wielded the camera everytime I turned on my charm (which was always).

     Well, I had a busy, well-rounded time during these early years where I can't remember anything (see blog about my first memory, posted on June 30th).
      I have many pictures in the company of my younger (by one year) cousin Teri, who lived next door.  I was blessed with having extended family downstairs (I lived in a Chicago two-flat) and next door.  My Grandma and Grandpa, my mother's sister Aunt Ann (or "Tan") and her husband Carm (who was my Dad's best friend) along with their four kids.  
     My siblings and I had a cousin similar in age to each of us, and we shared the holidays and birthdays and just everything.  We thought that everyone could talk out their bedroom window into their cousin's kitchen window, right?
      Here's Teri and I, looking all so fetching and precious (note the coy poses) in our coats and matching bonnets (all the rage in the 40's):

 (Teri on the left, precious Me on the right).  I have to believe that the head-tilting was spontaneous....we were inherently unbelievably CUTE AND ADORABLE !

     Here we are again, just "hanging" in the back yard, probably watching my Grandpa plant his tomatoes and Melrose (sweet) peppers and basil (it was your typical Chicago Italian garden).  Note my cousin Teri's casual hair style--no blow drying then, just naturally curly hair and Chicago humidity.  I am sporting my signature LARGE WHITE BOW that seems to appear with many of my toddler ensembles, both casual, as here in the garden setting, and for other more formal occasions:

       When I needed to cool off during summer months, there was the wading pool at La Follette Park nearby.  Here I am running charmingly (what else?) to the wading pool, which had a fountain in the middle....that I do remember, but a few years later than when this PRECIOUS photo was taken.  Note the cutie-pie hands clasped behind my back:

      In getting out all my photos to conjure up these memories, I was struck by the similarity between some of these precious shots and those of my grandchildren as toddlers. (surprise, surprise)

     STAY TUNED FOR TOMORROW'S BLOG WHICH WILL SHAMELESSLY DISPLAY THESE PICTURES IN ALL THEIR COMPARATIVE CUTENESS!

JULY 1--I DISCOVER READING

     So charmingly typical of me to publish this July 1st posting on July 2nd...I've always found extreme organization over-rated!  I was delayed because I had to consult my old photos to illustrate this fascinating month of blogs.  I will loosely follow a chronological order of my life, but may deviate when a particular photo pops up and grabs my short attention span.
     So today I revert back to my early toddler years, to my first discovery of <READING>, my passion and favorite hobby.  My corresponding passion and favorite hobby<SITTING>, works well with that Reading "thing".
    My license plate proclaims "BKWRM41"...my favorite job in a lifetime of changing careers was that of a librarian...and I was barely sitting upright when I began perusing the newspaper comics:

Hmmm...I'm still occupying that same corner of the couch today, just not glancing at many comics anymore...I caught on to words early on.  There's just everything to love about reading and how it takes you well, just everywhere so wonderfully! 
        (Much as I adore technology and laptops and smart phones and tablets, my reading--my book reading--remains in the paper form.  Not that there's anything wrong with reading electronically--I just like the calories I can exert in turning that page.)
       I cannot end my day without a book.  I'm falling asleep on that aforementioned sofa, book in hand, then book crashing to floor...that's how my day must end!  (And then when I get back to my bookmarked place, if I've been awake enough to put in my bookmark, I cannot remember the last pages I read--well, I was reading in my sleep, I love it so much.)
       One of the sweetest joys of grandparenthood (among oh-so-many joys) is that of reading to, and with, my grandchildren.
     
  .....Cuz THEY are my passion and "favorite hobby" now! 

BIRTHDAY MONTH MUSINGS

     I am on the brink of my Birthday Month of July....the 74th year I have shuffled, danced, skipped, limped, sauntered, crept, marched through my life.  Could I possibly make a Birthday Promise to myself to present a Month of Musings?  
     I will dare myself: no one else would DARE  to dare me!

     Sooooo....where to begin? 
“Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop." (If it was good enough advice for Alice as she wandered Wonderland, who am I to question it?)

     My first memory must have been August 14, 1945, "VJ Day" when World War II was finally over.  I remember being in front of my home at 4943 W. Iowa Street in Chicago IL....there was noise (firecrackers? guns?) but a strong feeling of such joy that I can still feel it, see the summer sky over the homes on my block.  It wasn't exactly this scene...

  .... yet that extreme pulse of joy reverberates with me today.
                My four-year-old self still remembers.

LOVE/ENABLING--WHATEVER!!

      So I had this teeny thought:

Is Love the New Enabling, or Is Enabling the New Love?

          This occurs in relation to my adult daughter, whom I love/enable fiercely.  Because she has been mentally in pain for so many years, she often encountered financial as well as emotional problems.  The Enabling took the form of money given to her to bail her out of this or that debt crisis.  What could I do but pour out the dollars, often when that was all the gifting I could provide her?  She couldn’t/wouldn’t handle being with me so that I could provide treasures of hugs.  I wanted to give her a place to live (with me) so that those hugs were nearby, and so she had fewer bills and debts.

         And then the dreaded word ENABLING reared its ugly accusing head.  I wasn’t REALLY helping her (really?)….I was just reinforcing her need to be needy, not helping her to fish on her own, taking away her power to take care of her own problems, blah blah blah.

         Well, I still kept the trickle (sometimes a river) of money going her way.  The money flow was accompanied by encouraging words and occasional meals together at her local diner in the city….which endeared itself to me by its ragtag ambience, booths repaired with duct tape, and nonstop coffee refills, even if in well-worn mugs.  That diner became special to me:  we met there, we visited there, we shared a meal and some real-time conversation there.

         After years with her city job, and apartment woes (rent still needs to be paid on poorly maintained apartments too), she cried “Uncle”…..or in this case “Mom”.  She was going through a severe anxiety/depression crisis which interfered drastically with her ability to work…often to even leave her apartment and commute to work, let alone function when she got there.

         The real shocker for me was her revelation that the city had lost its charms for her, as in living there.  For years she abhorred her suburban roots and seemed  content in her urban life.  Its charms disappeared as her disability to work crashed through. 

         We tentatively tried living together early Winter 2014, when I had surgery and needed help.  Moving out of her city studio and into my rental one-bedroom apartment was a huge step for her---and for me.  Was this gigantic ENABLING?  Probably.  But it didn’t feel wrong---and she was a great help to me in those early months after my shoulder replacement.

         So after six months, the trial period ended, and we moved into a two-bedroom, two-bathroom (both deal-breaker features) apartment back in the suburb where she had grown up, and where I felt most at home.  (This fine suburb also boasted a killer library, another deal-breaker where I was concerned.)

         We adopted a kitten soon after we settled in, and we love her madly, even when she is dashing around during her daily “crazy time”.  We just renewed our yearly lease.  We are amazed and amused and appreciative that this situation works so wonderfully for us.  Oh, and we share all our expenses.

         For now, we can ENABLE each other!  Enabling never felt so loving!

WEIGHTY SUBJECT—MONTH ONE

So one month ago, I dared to weigh in publicly

 on this blog—just checked 

and to my joy, it was a hefty 234 lbs.

(Joy?) BECAUSE—
Today I have a better tonnage: <<<230 lbs="">>>

So that's four pounds less!

And I made only one small change:

I stopped having one or two

large glasses of

Moscato wine (a sweet wine)

every night.

I made (so far) no changes 

in my eating—and

alas, no discernible exercise.

I DID however, 

remove my fuzzy socks

before I weighed in—

hence, the attractive

bare feet and polish-less

toenails (winter toes).

But I have a scale

that's very worn out

and can be manipulated

all too easily—

a different weight each time.

SOOOOO...

As Dr Seuss might say,

I weighed me on the mat

and got a dream weight that

couldn't REALLY count (drat!):

But nevertheless,

as you might guess,

I'm not a mess,

and will say a hearty "YES"..

to a new small "tweak"

for the coming weeks:

Are you ready? Ahem..

NO EATING AFTER NINE PM!

Since I usually stay up late

this may really help my weight—

and if I start to feel squirrely—

I'll just go to bed early!

A Tale of Two Sisters

"It was the best of times,

it was the worst of times"

(Charles Dickens said so)…

It was the best of an older sister,

(glamorous and wise)

it was the not-so-worst of a younger sister,

(adorable and eager to learn)

(I just said so).

It was A Tale of Two Sisters!!!

No, no not THESE Two Sisters:

(by way of the movie epic "Frozen")

And not THESE "Two Sisters"

(by way of Auguste Renoir):

BUT (wait for it)...

THESE "Two Sisters"

by way of the Montesano Family—

Kathie and Mary Rose

 Yes, here they are—

 Senior Goddess Supreme Kathie 

(as in SGS41)

and Junior Goddess Supreme Mary Rose

(Photo taken circa 1967—do the math)

Yes, my darling baby sister,

nearly 21 years younger than me

"could have been my daughter",

as I heard so often.

But—surprise!

She was way better than a daughter—

She was a soul mate

and best friend

without any parental angst.

She was the best baby sitter

for my kids Matt and Niki and Jeff--

who then became her best friends

(only ten years apart in age).

Her kids were more than 

my adored nephew Steven and niece Alicia—

they were indeed like grandchildren

who I could indulge

ten years before my own grandkids

(Jake, Rosie, and Bella)

happily happened in my life.

And so she remains today…

My baby sister, my dearest friend….

throughout all the pages of our lives…

A Tale of Two Sisters….

A Tale Without End.

Keeping Our Home Fires Burning!

My daughter Niki and I 

were very pleased to see

 that our new apartment 

had a fine-looking fireplace……

until we actually realized,

during our first cold days in November,

that we didn't want

REAL fires that required

real wood

real tools

real removal of ashes

real viligance with our lively cat

in residence.

Soooooo….we improvised

and even economized

with this 

cheery low-maintenance

non-fire blaze of light….

thanks to a string of mini-lights

and a strategic mirror

(can you spot it?)….

with the fun option

to keep it lit

with many other color choices….

the lovely year 

long!

11-12-14 "Who Are You Wearing?

On the Red Carpet,

celebrities are asked 

that snarky catch phrase:

 "Who Are You Wearing?"

My childhood self

would have mumbled shamefully

"Sears Husky". 

We fat children of the 1950's 

wore "Husky" sizes—really!

Now, most retail stores 

designate

 "Plus" sizes for girls

 and "Husky" sizes for boys.

Hmmm…...so good

we live in a more sensitive time.

  In the U.K., these sizes 

are marked "Outsize" for all.

For chubby adult women,

there are "Women" and "Plus" sizes;

for the fat men,

there is the "Big" designation.

But we really need a label for

"sad and fat"

or

"make my body invisible"

or

"pretending to be thin"

START WORKING ON THAT,

ALL YOU P.R. PEOPLE!

While we hid out under our 

"Women" "Plus' bodies

along with our "Big" comrades.

When I could shop for smaller sizes,

I wanted to shout out,

"Look everybody, look where I'm shopping!"

Now ordering online becomes

that more appealing.

And it uses up less calories.

11-11-14 "I Read the News Today"

So I woke up today

 with the first line of a Beatles' song 

bouncing around my brain cells. 

 It wasn't until 

I stepped on my (very dusty) 

bathroom scale 

that it all made horrible sense...…

Yep, "I Read the News Today Oh Boy"…..

So now, dear Readers, 

I draw you into 

 My Nasty Predicament.  

What predicament?  

To dial down that number, 

that accusing number, 

that number that always haunts me. 

 But, see, to dial down that number means 

MINDFUL EATING AND

 MINDFUL MOVING AROUND 

(" aka "Exercise")

Back to my Predicament—

I love to eat (mindlessly)

and I have a body designed 

to fiercely protect the many calories 

I throw into it. 

That results in a lifetime 

of chubbiness 

and all the shame that goes along with it.

And the other part of my predicament, 

I hate to move around (exercise) 

When other children visit a park-

they scramble over to the playground. 

 Me, I scramble (well, saunter) over

 to the nearest bench and read.

You see the problem.

Now, a Great Irony 

(God has such a sense of humor):

Arthritis has invaded most of my body,

 and that extra weight makes it worse. 

 Sigh.

I tried what in my mind 

was "a quick fix" in April 2005—

I had a bariatric bypass.  

Yes, I had my anatomy drastically altered 

to "solve" my problem. 

 At the time of the surgery, 

I weighed 278 pounds. 

 I lost 110 pounds over the next year.

And I've been slowly and horribly

 gaining it all back.  

If you set your mind to it,

 this can be done.  

Too much eating and too little exercise 

will put that flab back.

Sigh.

So I've had both knees replaced. 

 I've had my right shoulder replaced.

 I must have worn out my rotator cuff

 with all that food-to-mouth movement.

Now I walk in pain 

because the arthritis is invading my back.  

And the weight still keeps on coming.  

It's very evident 

that the weight is a real pain—

all I need to do is pick up a gallon of milk,

 and watch all my arthritic body parts 

"weigh in". (pun intended)

So, Gentle Reader,

 I begin today in my quest

 to reverse the flab festival.  

Anyone who has seen the movie "Wall-E"

 recalls that the futuristic lifestyle 

has everyone packing on the pounds 

as they loll around all day

 on little lounge chairs, 

with all their food brought to them. 

 Exercise of any sort is forbidden.  

The lifestyle looks great to me:

HOWEVER, "I've Read The News Today—

OH BOY!"

  

OCT 26 "HERE KITTY KITTY"--

We have the world's cutest cat…

Mathilda, who is now an adorable 7 months old.  

She just DRIPS with personality, 

and definitely fits into 

the tenor of our household 

(which consists of my daughter Niki and Moi).  

You think I am exaggerating—

everyone brags about their kids and pets (yawn).  

Well, she has some quirks 

that can only be explained 

as her absorbing my goddess rays 

and other unusual wave lengths 

in our household.

MATHILDA IS A BAG LADY

          Target is her preferred store—

and please note that her Target enclosure 

is politically correct 

(no evil plastic for THIS environmental feline).

MATHILDA ADORES BOXES          

as well as the fun wrapping paper.  

She creates endless varieties 

of enclosures, hidey holes 

and throne rooms

 for her stalking and sitting pleasure.

MATHILDA IS A CREEPY STALKER

and just who is she stalking?

That would be ME, in the privacy of my privy,

which somehow is private no more.

She cannot abide a door closing her out, 

especially a bathroom door.

MATHILDA CURLS UP WITH A GOOD BOOK

 She joins me at the end of my day,

propped up with my latest book.  

The book, no matter how wonderful,

eventually puts her—and me—to sleep.

And so the book (and cat) 

tumble to the floor—

all a part of our nighttime ritual.

That Mathilda—

she knocks things over, 

tears around on some crazed mission,

imposes her furry self everywhere

(including the bathroom door),

completely

rules the house….

 and our hearts.

Oct 8 Birth of a Goddess

Well, almost a month 

since my last blog. 

 You must have given up on me! 

 My intention is still a weekly blog

….sigh.

You may have wondered 

how I achieved the lofty title

 of Senior Goddess Supreme (or not).  

Well, during the days and years 

when I needed many "Aha" moments 

(an Oprah thing—

some lifesaving insight 

crashing into your soul), 

I read several daily meditations.  

 This at the very least delayed 

my getting to work….

but my several career choices 

will be subject for another blog.

ANYWAY, in the Oprah-touted book

  Simple Abundance 

(making a gratitude journal, etc.),

 I came across an "aha"

 which I retain to this very day. 

 One dreary February 3rd 

twenty years ago, 

the book exhorted me to be

 "open to change". 

 Well, I was always clutching at change

 in those years, 

so I fiercely took the next insight 

into my thirsty soul:

     "….WE ARE GIVING BIRTH TO GODDESSES…"

Well, OK!  

From that aha moment on, 

I was self-appointed Goddess

….it somehow felt right.  

And because of my (ahem)

 advancing years, 

I am now a Senior Goddess.  

And if I'm going to be a Goddess, 

I may as well be Supreme.

So there you go (or I go):

SENIOR GODDESS SUPREME,

with my birth year, 41, 

to finish off my title.

Some years into my goddess-ship (?),

 I came across this delightful poster, 

which really validated

that I should continue

 to "embrace the Goddess" 

within me.  

I've had a checkered career 

of careers, 

and certain job skills just plain eluded me.

(before the computer 

and the wonderful "delete" key existed). 

I could be bright and interesting 

and punctual and willing to work, 

but I just was never 

the most enthusiastic or accurate 

typist.  

And then I was validated:

    The jaunty message 

        next to this whimsical depiction of me is:  

       I DO MUCH BETTER

 AS A GODDESS,

   SHE SAID, 

      SINCE MY SECRETARIAL SKILLS

      HAVE ALWAYS BEEN LIMITED.

    So declareth me, myself, 

SGS41.