Dawn of a New Day

Whew.
Now that was some crazy three months.
In that time:
1.  Started working in retail part time. (After a 34 year hiatus.  Hmm.)
2.  Hubby retired.
3.  Hubby started new job with 180 degree shift from last job.
4.  Dealt with some health issues.  Resolved, btw.
5.  Welcomed grandgirl # 5 into the mix.
6. Celebrated 40 years together.
7. Prepared Christmas for our turn with all the spawn and their people.  And a dog.
8. Welcomed all 14 of us together in our square footage.
9. Made merry on many different levels with the giddiness of having all my babies under my roof.  A rare occurrence these days.
10.  Prepared meals, did dishes, washed clothes, made sure all the grandgirls were entertained and smiled the whole time in Mimi Delight.  (yes, I did, really...ask em.)
11.  Prepared for the weakest blizzard evah (yes, I am from northern Illlinois; we giggle at the weather that was labeled blizzard.)  Still, it had it's danger so we said good bye early to several of our people, making sure that they were safe instead of present.
12.  Celebrated the Big Two with Lil Lady two days after Christmas.
13.  Welcomed the new year with a precious 7 week old.
14.  Slowly bid them all goodbye and sighed a lot.

Today was the first day in many weeks that I have breathed deeply once again.
I was off work, cleaned like a maniac, put away all the final vestiges of Christmas, downloaded all the new photos from My New Camera (anniversary gift from Hubby!), folded bedding from all the visitors and put away for the next visits, and cooked my Hubby a nice hot dinner, just for the two of us.

I realized early today that my life has taken quite a different direction and I kinda like it.
I like that I am working again.
I like that I have a new, different type of family, 'a work family'.  Haven't had that in a while.
I like that Hubby works nearby now and comes home for lunch and is home for supper on time.
I like that my work schedule allows me  time in my sewing room.
I like that my kids are producing like rabbits.
I like that I have reached the stage of life where I care so little for the buggery things of life and embrace the important things with gusto.
I like that my hair is getting long.  Weird.
I like that if I don't get to walk, write and sew, I get twitchy.  I like that my people recognize that about me.
I like that I am bound by very little and that little is of little burden.

I like this stage of life.....
Ahh.

And Now, For Some Refreshment.....

Seventeenth Century Nun's Prayer

LORD, thou knowest better than I know myself that I am growing older and will someday be old.  Keep me from the fatal habit of thinking I must say something on every subject and on every occasion.  Release me from craving to straighten out everybody's affairs.  Make me thoughtful but not moody, helpful but not bossy.  With my vast store of wisdom, it seems a pity not to use it all, but thou knowest, Lord, that I want a few friends at the end.

Keep my mind free from the recital of endless details, give me wings to to get to the point.  Seal my lips on my aches and pains.  They are increasing, and love of rehearsing them is becoming sweeter as the years go by.  I dare not ask for grace enough to enjoy the tales of other's pains, but help me to endure them with patience.

I dare not ask for improved memory, but for a growing humility and a lessening cocksureness when my memory seems to clash with the memories of others.  Teach me the glorious lesson that occasionally I may be mistaken.

Keep my reasonable sweet; I do not want to be a saint - some of them are so hard to live with - but a sour old person is one of the crowning works of the devil.  Give me the ability to see good things in unexpected places, and talents in unexpected people.  And, give my, O Lord, the grace to tell them so.  

Amen.

Old Fogeyism

Dang.
I knew it would happen.
I clearly heard my mother speaking in my brain as I made a generational judgement call to myself the other day.
I remember it clearly. We would be out shopping. It was the 70's. She would glance at a very long haired male in sandals and holey jeans and many days growth on his face and she would tsk tsk.
Sometimes loud enough to get the offenders attention. This is where I would be mortified and slowly slink to another part of the store.
I dare not ask her what the tsk tsking was about because she expected me to. That way, she could answer loudly:
"What is the matter with these kids? They look like bums and smell bad! Where are their parents? Do they know what they look like, for goodness sakes?"
Then I would go into my response. 'Yes mom. They know what they look like and they like it that way. The more you stare and frown, the more they like it. They are rebelling and your distaste is just what they're waiting for... Don't give in to it...' (hoping above hope that she would stop before someone hit her.)
She would just shake her head and mutter, 'I just don't get it...'

That would be the line that I spoke in my head to myself, only she wasn't there and I was speaking to another misunderstood generation.

A real pet peeve of mine is pajama pants in the marketplace. In stores. Everywhere. Young girls, women, my age 'for goodness sake'...everyone, feeling led to be oh so comfy, cozy by navigating their world in cotton flannel.
The picture is not pretty. These said pants are usually unusually long so the bottoms are mostly dirty and dragging. Remember these pants are designed to be at home, dragging on carpet or wood or tile and gathering your own household dust bunnies. But worn outside, the bottoms pick up all the dirty snow, the rainy puddles and the dusty parking lots of our lives.
Did I mention that no one wears actual shoes (even in winter) with these Easy Pants. No, that would be flip flops or some kind of house slippers. Equally unprepared for the grime of our life. Would you wear a dress shirt with this ensemble? Of course not! You wear t shirts. The more comfy (big, dirty, with outrageous slogans on the front) the better. One day, I chanced into a local eatery to have the server attired in exactly what I'm talking about, without benefit of an appropriate 'binder' underneath. I was in awe.
As you can now see, I am fast approaching, if not completely arrived at Old Fogeydom.
I feel it as I put on lipstick to go mail a letter.
When I care if my coat looks wrinkled.
I hearken back to my little girl days when Mom made us girls wear our white gloves and patent leathers as we rode the bus downtown for a day of shopping.
My.
How crazy is that?
I remember moving away from my hometown and feeling free to wear a sweatshirt and sneakers to the grocery, grateful that I wouldn't run into anyone I would know and be shamed of my lazy appearance. Before that, I would always clean up and redress to go to the store. Would not dream of wearing my daily clothes out in public.
See?
Light years in perspective. That's what makes an Old Fogey and I now pronounce myself There.
If I had any doubt, this week my 'Dress Sandals' arrived in the mail this week.
These will be worn with a summer skirt. Could not wear my Keens or my Tevas with a skirt. Needed a neutral tone to go with all. Can't do ankle straps anymore; don't want to add thickness to the old ankles. Need stretch leather to accommodate my arthritic tootsies. Need coverage to hide ugly toes. Tall order, right? 157 shoes viewed on Shoebuy.com and here is my selection. Utilitarian in a needy way. Huaraches hearken me back in the day when my Mexican leather walked in 3 inch platforms.
But now I am an Old Fogey who hates Public Pajama Pants and is saddened for young women who do not respect themselves enough to present themselves nicely to the world.

So Mom, if you're reading this, I'm with you.
I just don't get it.....

C