I really had no intention of coming back to California so soon after the US Open in June...but things happen. My mom thought my brother was taking her to California...turned out it was a misunderstanding. He was only looking for Christmas money from her so he could take his family to California. Oops! So after looking at really low airfares, I decided, hey! Let's do it!
We decided to go in March-since February has typically been cool in San Diego. And after the winter we have had in New England, I was totally looking forward to a sunny vacation.
Now if you've ever traveled with me you know things happen-always. Not to disappoint anyone, my first mistake was in booking the trip with a layover. I misread the itinerary and forgot to include the time change in my flight time. We flew an hour to Baltimore and then still had a 5 and a half hour flight to San Diego. We had not eaten anything more than peanuts and crackers since we left Manchester at 3pm. It was my first night of no supper. I was starting to get cranky...
Then when we arrived and went to the luggage carousel....my worst fear came true. No luggage. Nothing. No clothes. Just the jeans and t shirt on my back. "That's okay, you can wear my clothes," Cousin Dotty graciously offered. "Here, I have a package of brand new underwear!" Thank goodness! And what a treat to be able to share clothes with a 65 year old! I will never again over pack...I know this is some kind of karma...
The next day we caught the Amtrack Surfliner to Santa Barbara. Since Deanna fell the week before our trip we got the extra special privilege of sitting in the Senior Citizen Car. Woohoo!!
Off the train in Burbank at Bob Hope Airport, Fr. Ray picked us up. We had a lovely champagne brunch and then headed to San Fernando to see where he lived before heading to Santa Barbara.
I looked smashing in my Tye dye T-shirt and 24 hour jeans. Ray took us to meet Fr. Jim, the 90 year old priest he cares for, and we saw his photo album of their trip to Fr. Fred's mission in Haiti.
We arrived at the Upham Hotel in Santa Barbara, and stayed in the same room we had last year. We visited with Dotty's daughter and son in law and grandaughter. It was my second official night of no supper.
Day 2 in Santa Barbara was spent shopping, kind of. But if we wanted to get in before midnight, we had to catch the 2pm train back to Solana Beach. We met Lisa for a great lunch on the deck overlooking Santa Barbara Harbor at Brophy's Clam and Seafood Restaurant. The cioppino was superb, but I should have starting carbo loading. The train ride home was uneventful, back to the Senior Car, and we arrived home to a glass of wine and some snacks..no supper, Day 3.
Do I sound like I am stuck on the eating thing?
So here we are back ini Encinitas at Cousin Dotty's-who now has a roommate. A lovely woman who has taken over her spare room upstairs. The room with the view, and the bathroom. My room. Darn. What that means is I have to share a room AND a bed with my mom, and the three of us have to share one bathroom. Oh, oh. Oh and did I mention my mom is allergic to the two cats Dotty has? And di dI mention all of her allergy meds were in the lost luggage?Oh, oh...And did I mention my mom is a constant complainer? She does not suffer in silence...
Well, so night one in Encinitas was pretty sleepless..."I'm cold, my eyes itch, my ankle is puffy, my knee hurts, I'm so stiff, I have a head ache, my feet are freezing...on and on and on...but we did cook a fantastic supper. Night two was no better than night one, mom apparently is awake every hour during the night ans she thinks everyone else is, too. At 2:30 am she says, "Can you please move over? You're too close to me. " Woke me up from a fantastic sleep...short, but fantastic. My day started at 3am... Non -stop conversation during the day continues into the night.
Night three Dotty gave up her own bed for me, and she slept on the window seat/twin bed. I finally slept throught the night.
Night 4 Dotty took her room back...she tried to sell me on the window seat/twin bed. Now my stuff (our luggage was waiting for us when we arrived back from Santa Barbara) was strewn between my mom's room, Dotty's room, and the dining room. I was a homeless person. No spot to call my own. At least it was relatively warm and the orange tree out back provided fruit and snacks.
Now in between the sleeping and eating, of course we had sunny, beautiful days..days punctuated by the non stop continuous chatter of my mom. She would talk to a wall. It doesn't matter if you respond, because she doesn't listen. She talks over everyone. She is sweet, and endearing and everyone loves her, including me. But she talks too much.
It has been a very long week...the Seniors are exhausted and last night went to bed at 9pm. Woohoo! I watched a DVD on my laptop. The days of sitting in the sun have not materialized, as the temperature has not made it past 65 degrees. Today will most likely involve cleaning, shopping for food and cooking for the St Patty's dinner party tonight. What will tomorrow bring? We shall have to see....but for now, it is quiet except for the birds chirping and the clock ticking. I have a fantastic view of a patio and palm trees and if it were sunny...the ocean. I can almost imagine being on vacation....
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Thursday, March 12, 2009
What's in your gene pool?
I'm on vacation in not so sunny California this week with my mom and her cousin. This has become an annual pilgrimage across the country not only to visit an absolutely gorgeous state, but to re connect with family. It is important, for my mom, and for me. The gene pool is drying up.
Last night around the dinner table that included my mom, her cousin, the starving artist who lives in the cottage out back, and the other starving artist who lives upstairs in what use do be my room, (a little resentment there) we talked of family, and the only surviving relative that connects us (excluding the starving artists..)Auntie Barbara.
Out came the family photo..taken in probably 1945..the entire Witham clan, headed up by matriarch Nellie, with 5 children, their spouses and their children. Auntie Barbara was the youngest of the siblings' wives. And she was a beauty queen. With a gorgeous face, long dark hair and proper pose, she really was a beauty queen, having own at least one contest in her youthful prime.
"How is Auntie Barbara?"
"She's doing okay.." Does anybody know how old she is? It is the last best guarded secret in the family.
"I think she must be 84 or 85...."
"Really? How old were you in that picture? You look like you were two," my mom says to Dotty.
"I don't know, probably. How old was Barbara when she got married? 19? 20? She can't have been more than 20..." On and on the guessing went, until finally Dotty, said, "I'll just look it up on the computer!
"You can do that? My mom says..
"And before Dotty could answer she shouted back ," She's 84!"
"Well her birthday is today, so she's 85 now!"
Technically, Barbara is not in the gene pool we share. She married my grandmother's youngest brother when he was in the Navy during WWII. At eighty-something she is the lone survivor.
The California starving artists were amazed as the family talk circled around the dinner table: Toni Perms, eye brow waxing, engineers, teasing, Baptist Methodists marrying catholics, drugs, jail time-there was enough drama to last a lifetime. The family resemblance between cousins is remarkable. There is just enough flakiness to know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, either. Spending oh so much family time with my mom, we share some eerie qualities with Dotty: losing things, often, independence (stubbornness), but also, laughter, loyalty and big hips. We trip, we fall (my mom has this down to a science..what is wrong with you this month?) and we have the uncanny ability to pick ourselves up and go on.
It is a gift to be able to take this time to peer into the rapidly evaporating gene pool...to notice the water rings, the light reflecting of its surface, and to see, with increasing clarity down into its depths...the water can get murky at times, and there are pebbles and other obstacles on the bottom, but it is peaceful and charming, and it is mine.
Last night around the dinner table that included my mom, her cousin, the starving artist who lives in the cottage out back, and the other starving artist who lives upstairs in what use do be my room, (a little resentment there) we talked of family, and the only surviving relative that connects us (excluding the starving artists..)Auntie Barbara.
Out came the family photo..taken in probably 1945..the entire Witham clan, headed up by matriarch Nellie, with 5 children, their spouses and their children. Auntie Barbara was the youngest of the siblings' wives. And she was a beauty queen. With a gorgeous face, long dark hair and proper pose, she really was a beauty queen, having own at least one contest in her youthful prime.
"How is Auntie Barbara?"
"She's doing okay.." Does anybody know how old she is? It is the last best guarded secret in the family.
"I think she must be 84 or 85...."
"Really? How old were you in that picture? You look like you were two," my mom says to Dotty.
"I don't know, probably. How old was Barbara when she got married? 19? 20? She can't have been more than 20..." On and on the guessing went, until finally Dotty, said, "I'll just look it up on the computer!
"You can do that? My mom says..
"And before Dotty could answer she shouted back ," She's 84!"
"Well her birthday is today, so she's 85 now!"
Technically, Barbara is not in the gene pool we share. She married my grandmother's youngest brother when he was in the Navy during WWII. At eighty-something she is the lone survivor.
The California starving artists were amazed as the family talk circled around the dinner table: Toni Perms, eye brow waxing, engineers, teasing, Baptist Methodists marrying catholics, drugs, jail time-there was enough drama to last a lifetime. The family resemblance between cousins is remarkable. There is just enough flakiness to know the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, either. Spending oh so much family time with my mom, we share some eerie qualities with Dotty: losing things, often, independence (stubbornness), but also, laughter, loyalty and big hips. We trip, we fall (my mom has this down to a science..what is wrong with you this month?) and we have the uncanny ability to pick ourselves up and go on.
It is a gift to be able to take this time to peer into the rapidly evaporating gene pool...to notice the water rings, the light reflecting of its surface, and to see, with increasing clarity down into its depths...the water can get murky at times, and there are pebbles and other obstacles on the bottom, but it is peaceful and charming, and it is mine.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
4 months
It goes by in a flash, but seems like an eternity at the same time. 4 months of healthy living. What do I have to show for it? I'm not really sure. It' s not a straight path to the finish line, that's for sure; and who wants to race to the finish line anyways? It's trial and error, and becoming aware of choices that affect how you feel and function as a human being.
It's about becoming wiser and more intuitive. It's about increasing self discipline and foregoing instant gratification. It's about patience and perseverance and not stepping on the scale every day.
Here's what I've learned:
1. Even doing little things inconsistently is better than doing nothing at all.
2. Slowly, you adjust and even the little things become habits for living.
3. Drinking 8 glasses of water a day, although maybe an old wives' tale (alright, so I am an old wife!) seems to work, for a lot of reasons
4. The difference between soreness and pain is subtle...
5. You can take more than you think you can, so working with someone who can push you is crucial
6. Sometimes it's hard to know when to stop pushing through pain, so see number 5.
7. Never give up, because it's never too late to improve your well being.
8. Do not waste time brooding over the past....because it is gone and you cannot get it back.
So, even though I just had a slice of cold pizza for breakfast, my body is telling me that probably was not a good choice, and I will remember that the next time I get the impulsive urge to eat something that has been sitting in the refrigerator for 3 days.
But I will drink my water and take my vitamins and do my crunches and push ups and stretches and arm exercises and not look back. 4 months will turn into 5, then 6, then a year. There is no finish line, really. Life is a journey, just like the cliche...slow and steady wins the race. That's a hard one for me...I am learning to be slow and steady instead of fast and furious. Good things come to those who wait...I'm sure, but better things come to those who can grow and change and continue to learn.
It's about becoming wiser and more intuitive. It's about increasing self discipline and foregoing instant gratification. It's about patience and perseverance and not stepping on the scale every day.
Here's what I've learned:
1. Even doing little things inconsistently is better than doing nothing at all.
2. Slowly, you adjust and even the little things become habits for living.
3. Drinking 8 glasses of water a day, although maybe an old wives' tale (alright, so I am an old wife!) seems to work, for a lot of reasons
4. The difference between soreness and pain is subtle...
5. You can take more than you think you can, so working with someone who can push you is crucial
6. Sometimes it's hard to know when to stop pushing through pain, so see number 5.
7. Never give up, because it's never too late to improve your well being.
8. Do not waste time brooding over the past....because it is gone and you cannot get it back.
So, even though I just had a slice of cold pizza for breakfast, my body is telling me that probably was not a good choice, and I will remember that the next time I get the impulsive urge to eat something that has been sitting in the refrigerator for 3 days.
But I will drink my water and take my vitamins and do my crunches and push ups and stretches and arm exercises and not look back. 4 months will turn into 5, then 6, then a year. There is no finish line, really. Life is a journey, just like the cliche...slow and steady wins the race. That's a hard one for me...I am learning to be slow and steady instead of fast and furious. Good things come to those who wait...I'm sure, but better things come to those who can grow and change and continue to learn.
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