You're Only 50 Once

I have been pondering lately the relationship between my obsession with time and my ability or lack thereof in making decisions. For someone who dreads the end of a day or the passing of another year, I certainly have been spending a lot of time frozen unable to get even my daily activities accomplished. You would think that the rhythm of the tick, tick, ticking would somehow pull me along, coax me to the next thing on the agenda like a Pied Piper melody.


 I have always been keenly aware, as Frances Mayes put it that...
 “Any arbitrary turning along the way and I would be elsewhere; I would be different.”
 But how did I let this knowledge bring me to a place of no turning whatsoever?

Fear!

Of course, that enemy of all things filled with life; all things creative.
embracing life in the center of the ticking clock with my face turned outward, forward is the only remedy.

 Say “yes” to trying, yes to different, yes to the passing time, “no” to stagnant, no to the frozen places in my heart.

Yes to 50 years of smiles, wrinkles and gray

Yes to new life

and child-like play

 Ice cream on a November day

And arbitrary turnings along the way.

 More...  Florida Snapshots  

Of Shoes and Ships and Ceiling-Wax

As a child did you ever dream of sailing to far away lands? Did you ever fill a lazy afternoon imagining yourself rounding Cape Horn with supplies bound for Alaska, fishing off the coast of Maine, or Captain of a Caribbean pirate ship ? I did, I suppose most children do.
A block or so from Grandma Brumbaugh's house in Marysville there was an old fishing boat. Long past the day when its keel felt the cool touch of Puget Sound, it sailed a field of blackberry and broom.
I would dream as I walked by that my hand was upon the wheel, wind in my hair not a single cloud on a blue horizon. I can still smell it, the musky scent of rotting wood and yesterdays rainwater pooled upon the deck. Even as an adult I thrill at the sight of these forgotten hulks. Less common now, they are victims of time and tide, yet ready to sail in my memory.
Here are a few salty haunts I have collected.

The schooner Wawona at the Center for Wooden Boats in Seattle May 1985
When restoration efforts proved too expensive she was dismantled in March 2009.

Great Uncle Gene Sapp’s fishing boat on his farm in Sequim, Washington July 1990.

The Tugboat Mary D. Hume near the Rouge River Bridge in Gold Beach, Oregon June 2005.
I think every child needs a boat to sail away on so this mommy built one of plywood, Velcro and pipe insulation.
Darren & Morgan sailing the fields of King Rd. May 1995

Many Ugly Owls Mocking Me

My daughter loves owls. Not the kind you find in the barns, or that infamous spotted owl, but the species that probably haunts the memory of anyone who grew up in the seventies. You know the kind I’m talking about, kitschy owls made of ceramic, plastic and wood. They were usually found hanging around macramé plant hangers or staring back at you from the front of grandma’s fridge. That’s where I found these.

My grandmother’s collection of owls was destined for the trash until I decided to revamp them into a fun gift for my seventies loving girl.
Adding lines from songs, I gave them each a tune to sing like... “Who Let the Dogs Out”, Who Are You? Who who, who, Who”, and my personal favorite… “Who Ya Gonna Call? GhostBusters!” Then I shipped them ( seven and counting) off to Florida.

The other day I was wandering the second hand store when I realized I was being mocked by feathered knick knacks. Suddenly they were everywhere.

Within a matter of ten minutes I saw more owls than I care to count. There were cookie Jar owls,

Note holder owls, salt and pepper owls...

Just plain no explaining why anyone would ever own them UGLY owls.

Stop it I say, enough I cry. The next thing you will tell me is that orange velvet rockers are coming back in style. Now that’s just crazy!

First Jobs

My first job was waitress at Marv’s Café in my home town.
Check out the personal jukeboxes. I wonder how many quarters I blew dancing to “Rose Colored Glasses” while I mopped the floors. There was a wonderful neon sign on the ceiling of a crescent moon and stars and an ice cream center for making old-fashioned shakes and sundaes. I bought my first guitar with my saved tips and was asked out by my Ol-man in the corner booth.
Today my youngest was hired at the local Dairy Queen. He’ll be serving fries, making shakes and saving his $ for something fun I'm sure. Congrats son! May your first job memories be great ones.

Take Cake

Tradition is a curious thing. Why do we go out of our way to re-enact events from our past superimposing them upon the present? We make the same cookies every December or return like swallows to a favorite location. We find comfort and build memory with traditions and we love to capture it on film for posterity.
A couple of weeks ago I spent some time picking out an Anniversary cake for Shelby and Josh.This got me thinking about a messy tradition based upon my first birthday cake. Here I am enjoying my first birthday by destroying my baby size cake.








I decided when Shelby came along that I would continue the tradition.




Again when Darren turned One he was given permission to smear to his hearts desire. I was much more practical by then and opted for the hi-chair method.
Finally when Morgan reached the appointed age he too was granted his own heart shaped pastry. The cake pans are stored away now. They wait for the day when possibly one of my three will find joy in the act of cleaning frosting from their own children’s hair. Here’s to traditions! Big or small, they are great signs along the road.