Dear Followers...

Just a note to let you, my faithful readers know that I've moved the content from this blog over to Wordpress. You can find it here: http://salgrunkshire.wordpress.com/. That platform offers more options, and I think you'll find it an improvement. Please pop over and see my latest post, and if you feel like it, leave me a comment. You know what a connection junkie I am!

My Calgon Moment

In my previous post I talked about the need for down time, alone time, me time (though I don’t like that term), whatever you want to call it. Well, I had that yesterday.  And it was bliss.

Some may read this and think I’m saying I don’t enjoy spending time with family and friends. I do. It probably goes without saying, but I’ll say it: I love my family and friends. I love spending time with each of you and all of you. But I’ve learned I also truly enjoy time on my own. I don’t need a lot of it and I don’t need it often. But I do need it.

I recall clearly the very first time I felt like this. I was 5. No, don’t laugh, I remember this or maybe I remember my mom describing it. I had come home from kindergarten and told my mom that if any friends came over wanting to play, I didn’t want to.  My mom tells me I then raised my right hand flat, palm down, up to my eyebrow and said, “I’ve had it up to here with kids!”  Then I went to my room and played school with my stuffed animals.

I don’t think I’ve “had it up to here” with anyone just now, but nonetheless I was grateful when my husband told me he was going to a conference in Salina, Kansas for two days (Note to any creepers reading this: husband is on his way home now, so I’m no longer on my own, plus I have a fierce, well, annoying beagle/Jack Russell who will viscously nip your ankles if you try anything).

Maybe it will surprise you to know I didn’t do anything all that exciting with my day yesterday. But I wasn’t craving excitement. I went to bed relatively early on the first night, after falling asleep on the couch re-watching an episode of Sherlock (nothing new there for a Friday night).

Saturday morning I worked out, etc. and headed over to Downtown Overland Park. A friend. @jayhawk100 had told me about a new bookshop that opened there recently, called Mysteryscape. If you’re in the neighborhood, check it out. They feature brownies from the Clock Tower Bakery made with Belgian chocolate, great coffee, lots of arm chairs, and a wonderful selection of mystery books both new and used. I spent a very pleasant hour there and came out with several books for a very reasonable sum, as well as a fine new tea mug.

I should back up though. Before I went in the bookshop, I passed a new hair salon, and decided, spur of the moment to have my eyebrows waxed. I don’t do this often, but every time I do it feels great.  I had to wait a few minutes, but it was a pleasure as I flipped the pages in some colorful home décor magazines while I waited. When it was my turn, Brenda took me to a small room and I lay on a massage table to have my eyebrows done. In the past I’ve sat in a chair, but the table was very relaxing and that was $9 plus tip that I’d gladly pay again.

After the salon and bookshop, I decided it was finally time to get my wedding ring resized. I’ve lost 40 pounds in the last year and a bit, and my ring got to the point where it was coming off every time I washed my hands. I stopped wearing it and wore a smaller ring on my ring finger. And though I have about 20 pounds to go, I’m doubtful I’ll lose much more in my fingers. So off I went to Lillianes Jewely in the Mission Road Antiques Mall. After consulting with the kind jeweler there, Sam, I strolled through the antiques for awhile, and lost myself a bit in thinking about other times and places as I read old postcards, picked up and put down items from who-knows-where-or-when. It was wonderful. I then treated myself to lunch at the Bloomsbury Bistro, housed inside the shop.

I’d had a niggling headache all day (probably hormonal, from the pill I’m on to regulate other unpleasant stuff), so I took a nap.  Then I sat at my little computer table in front of the window, woof at my side, pot of tea nearby, and wrote. I had a nice phone convo with my mom (see, I didn’t totally disconnect), and listened to British radio stations on the internet radio my husband setup a while back.

In the evening I watched a film version of one of my favorite Maeve Binchy books, Tara Road. I’d seen the film before and thought it was awful. Not sure why I decided to give it another try, but I liked it more this time, and ended up having a nice chat on twitter with @NatalieReinert about the film.

The only downside to the day was that I accidentally deleted all 300+photos from my cell phone. It really shouldn’t be that easy to do (not even an “are you sure?” message). But I had already copied some to my computer, and I decided to consider it an opportunity to start fresh.

Today my husband returns, and I look forward to hearing about his trip, and the wonderful things the Civil Air Patrol is doing. I look forward to my daughter returning in a day or so from an out-of-town trip with her dad, and to my parents moving here next week. But for now, for today (well, yesterday, when I wrote this), I’m relishing the moment and being grateful for this time.

Do you like “alone time”? If you’re someone who lives with another or others, how would you spend a day on your own?

“Calgon, take me away!”

I’ll admit it; when my husband first told me he might be going to the Kansas wing conference for the Civil Air Patrol this weekend, and it meant he’d be away on a Friday and Saturday, my first thought wasn't, “That’ll be fun!” or, “That’s great that you’re volunteering with that organization and they’ll really appreciate your support.” I did say those things. And I did mean them. But my initial, unspoken (at the time) thought was, “Yeah! Two days to myself!”  But then, and I don’t think I’m alone in this reaction, I felt guilty. Is it okay to admit you need, want, crave, time on your own? 

Advertisers certainly pray on this need. The phrase “Calgon, take me away” has become synonymous with the desire to escape. And on a spiritual level, we’re encouraged to take time to meditate, whether on scripture or in whatever other way people connect with the spirit within, to create understanding, awareness, or enlightenment in their lives.

But I wasn’t craving that kind of alone time. Frankly, I’m not sure what I was hoping to do or find, or discover about myself. I’m not even sure I’m feeling a strong need to discover something. I really just want time when the only one I’m responsible for, is me. Well, okay, I also need to care for the woof, but she’s easy. I want to “go with the flow”, whatever that is for me, and only me.

Why is this so hard to admit? Some people feel they “deserve” their time. I really dislike that word. I don’t know when I came to loathe it so, but I resent the idea that some people deserve things and others don’t. To me, to say, “Oh she really deserves some time off” or whatever, implies that the person has done something or something has happened that makes one person more deserving than another. If you believe in equality and inclusion, no one deserves anything unless we all deserve it.

Sorry. (*steps down off soapbox*)

Maybe in part, it’s because growing up I don’t recall my mom taking time for herself. Yes, she was at home or had time once we kids were all school age or later when we moved out, but that’s not the same. I don’t know if my mom ever craved time on a Saturday afternoon to just “be” or to do whatever she might want to do. And thinking about it, as one of a family of eleven kids, you might think that she, more than others would crave alone time. Then again, maybe growing up with all that family around, maybe you don’t want to be on your own. I’ll have to ask her about this. But regardless of the reason, I didn’t have a role model for time on my own.

My husband on the other hand has no problem with this. He will, on occasion, just decide he needs a few hours to himself, and take the afternoon off work to take photos, read (mainly scripture and devotionals), journal about what he’s read, either in writing or recorded word, etc.  He usually emerges from this time refreshed in some way. And isn’t that something to crave and celebrate?

I wonder if part of the reason I sometimes crave time like this is because at heart I’m a connector. I am a self-proclaimed twitter-holic as it lets me connect with many, many people, from superficial things like a good cup of coffee to much deeper topics that we discuss back and forth over a series of tweets, conversation style. I like hanging out with my husband on a lazy weekend, and doing things with my daughter when she’s home. I’m excited my parents are moving here next week, as I’ll have much more time to be with them, and I’m looking forward to that. But maybe with all that connecting, sometimes I need to unplug. Well, not literally. It’s not often I don’t want to text, tweet, or talk altogether. Let’s not go crazy!

When I told various women I work with that I was going to have a two days on my own, they got it. They said how much they’d like that themselves. I’m thankful to say I’m having and savoring some of that “alone time” now and it’s been a real treat. In my next post I’ll tell you what I did with my day yesterday; my Calgon moment.

What does alone time look like for you? What’s your “Calgon moment”? Is it having 10 uninterrupted minutes to read a book, stopping at a coffee shop and people watching, a leisurely afternoon shopping on your own? Do you do this? Do you feel guilty about it? Am I nuts?

Nicknames & Terms of Endearment

I wonder if Anna's braids were this long
(from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang)

Salgrunkshire, Spy, Clawed…huh? Yes, all of these are nicknames I’ve had at some point or other in my life. I got to thinking about this after a recent twitter conversation. I’ve been connected there to @helgagrace for a long time, and knew her name was Anna Grace, but never asked about her twitter name. Another twitter friend, @kcecelia did, and I learned it was to do with Anna wearing her hair in braids as a child. It was said fondly, and she has happy memories with the name, so she uses it.

Nicknames are different than terms of endearment, to me. You might be sweetie, honey, baby, pussycat (to quote Little Shop of Horrors) or little choochie face (to quote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang) to someone. But chances are not everyone calls you those names. At some point most of us have likely been called something other than our given name. And I’m not talking about name-calling. I’m talking about meaningful names that for some reason stick with us, and which we are okay with. If it’s a name we like, it makes us feel connected to the people who call us that, and we all know I’m a connection junkie.

Boris & Natahsha

Back to Salgrunkshire, Spy, and Clawed. I’ve already told you about Salgrunkshire in a previous post. My big brother, Jim, a socio-linguistics major now high school English teacher was forever making up words as a kid, and this was his name for me. Maybe it’s even a cross between a nickname and a term of endearment. Spy was what I was called for a time during high school. Not only did I have a Russian last name, but I could do a fairly decent Boris & Natasha impression. I liked that one. It made me feel glamorous and mysterious, when I was about as far from those things as one can be as a teen. Maybe it’s one of the reasons I like the word espionage so much. And finally, Clawed. Only one person called me that. And yes, it was said lovingly. Many years ago my former father-in-law (who I still have affection for) called me this after their family cat clawed my eye. It was pretty scary at the time, and giving me this nickname helped turn a difficult situation into a well, not quite fond memory, but one that I can smile about now.

When I was growing up, my dad didn't like nicknames, especially Spy. I suppose I get that now. We were Russian (his father immigrated to the US in 1917) and when I was given this name it was the 1980's and the era of the Cold War. I think he's gotten over that though, as just a few weeks ago I got an email from him and he signed it Love, Daddio (my favorite name for him).

What about you? Are you known by another name to a small (or wide) circle of friends? Have you had names you’ve gone by, but no longer use? Please share in the comments.

Thanksgiving with Extended & Blended Family

For the past three year’s my husband and I have spent Thanksgiving with my daughter’s step-mom’s brother’s wife’s parents. Yes, you read that right. I spend the holiday with my ex. And if you stopped there it’d be just plain weird. But if you can read between the lines (or read the next several lines), you can see a much richer story.

The secret recipe to a successful blended family gathering includes: food, patience, humor, and love. I don’t know that those all show up in equal quantities, but they all have to be there. And I can tell you that the gatherings at Mario & Maria’s have all of that. Each year this lovely couple, originally from The Azores (which I just learned is an Archipelago, and part of Portugal), open them home to their children and their families and their family’s families and so on and so on. And that’s how I came to be included in the gathering.

A few years ago it was coming up on the holidays and we were having the annual discussion of where my daughter (then 15) would be. It was a year when my side of the family would all be gathering in St. Louis for Christmas. That meant that Natalie would be with her dad for Thanksgiving. Natalie’s stepmom, Rebecca (who graciously allows me to call her Becci) suggested we join them at Mario & Maria’s. After first figuring out that that wasn’t the name of a new Italian restaurant in town, we asked if it was really okay for us to go, since we weren’t well, you know, family. Becci assured us it was, and told us of all the family members of various descriptions who would be there.

With a sense of adventure and a hot green bean casserole in the back seat, we headed out to Maria & Maria’s homestead (about an hour’s drive from us). From the moment you enter their home, you feel like family. They are kind, welcoming, and Mario makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey (and by "mean", I mean tender and tasty). They live on wooded property, and part of the fun is a walk in those woods after the meal. There are usually a few visiting canine family members, including Diamond, a sweet pit bull mix (I know, I know, I never thought I’d write a sentence like that, and everyone says it, but this dog is different). My husband Tony is the official photographer of the holiday. Well, he’s the official photographer of every family gathering and while we sometimes complain he takes too many pictures, we’re always glad he did when we see the results. His nature photos are especially gorgeous, but it’s the candid family shots that I love best.

Another after dinner activity (and sometimes before) is playing card games with whatever kids happen to be part of the gathering that year. Recently the game has been Apples to Apples. But in past years I was introduced to other card games, like Phase 10. Anyone can join in the games, the competitions are friendly, and if you prefer, you can just sit and watch and cheer on the rest.

This year my parents join the table. And it may be the first of many to come for them, as they will be moving to our area next year. I can’t wait to introduce them to the clan who welcome you in, feed you, and have you leave feeling full of good food and of the warmth of family.

As a coworker and I were sharing our “what are you doing for the holiday” stories and I told her mine, She replied with this…”That is absolutely wonderful! The holidays are all about family – however they are related (or not!)” I couldn’t agree more!

Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

Mrs. Pankhurst

I just attended my first rally. I’m not quite sure what I expected. Every time I thought about going, I thought of this line from the Mary Poppins song Sister Suffragette, “Take heart for Mrs. Pankhurst has been clapped in irons again!” I looked that up tonight and found that Mrs. Pankhurst was not only a real person, but was the leader of the British Suffragette movement. How did I not know that? I guess Mary Poppins only took me so far. Maybe if I was more like my daughter, who has a nose for research and is minoring in women’s studies, I’d know this. But I know it now (and you do too if you didn’t before!)

I’d like to think that if my best friend, Kathleen had been alive in the late 1800’s/early 1900’s, she’d have been as celebrated as Mrs. Pankhurst was. Kath and I have known each other since we were 13. Some of you may know her as @kathjustus on twitter. Her work in social justice, specifically at this time to abolish the death penalty is important and far-reaching. She’s always supported me, through stupid decisions and smarter ones. And even though I arrived at the rally tonight after she spoke, I’m sure she was inspiring and eloquent. She has a passion for her work and that comes through in everything she does.

Kathleen lives what I only give lip service to. Oh sure, I’ll retweet an appeal to sign a petition and show up for a few minutes at a rally when it’s convenient for me to do so. But Kathleen works tirelessly for a cause. It’s her job. The rally tonight was on behalf of Reggie Clemons. I encourage you to read about him here.

So tonight I learned two things (not including the fact that Mrs. Pankhurst was a real person). First, I learned that there is a lot of work yet to be done to stop states from murdering citizens with our tax dollars in the guise of a justice system that is far from just. Second, I learned that the young woman I’ve known since we were both 13 is as amazing to me now as she was then. Back then I saw her as someone who didn’t accept things as they were, but instead worked to make them better. She’s always been there for me, and now I also know she’s there for others.

Do you have a Kathleen in your life? Someone who you’ve known for a long time but continues to amaze and inspire you? Tell me about her/him.

Love is…

Remember that creepy “Love is…” comic strip that started in the late 60’s? Oh wait, maybe you didn’t think it was creepy (and if you read its history, I admit it’s kinda sweet). But come on. The characters, a cherubic man and woman are always naked! And not in a sexy way. Maybe I was too young when I first saw it but it always freaked me out a bit and it certainly didn’t define love for me. Ah, but that’s just it, isn’t it? What is love…to you? I don’t think anyone would argue that it changes over time. And if you’re lucky, it changes for the better. But then, how do you define “better”?

When my husband and I first met, he did the most romantic things. I traveled a lot for work then and not a trip would go by that I didn’t arrive at my hotel to find some treat arranged by him. It might be flowers, or chocolate covered strawberries, a bottle of wine, or my favorite, a single red rose and a bottle of Miller Genuine Draft. He always managed to talk the hotel staff into writing a note to go with it. I think it was his soft-spoken English accent that persuaded them. It was the late 90’s and we didn’t text then, but he would send me faxes with drawings of dolphins or hearts, or some other thing that meant romance to us.

Fast forward (or in today’s parlance, scroll ahead) 13 years, and today I see romance differently. Now if he sent me flowers while I was traveling I might say he shouldn’t spend the money on something like that. The other day it hit me. As I reached into the medicine cabinet for my days-of-the-week pill holder, which we use for vitamins…this is love. Each week my husband refills that holder, and one for himself, and replaces mine in the medicine cabinet. I never have to think about it. I just reach in and there they are. Why is that love to me? Because it shows he cares about our health, our future, and he’s done something to make my day just a little easier.

Okay, so you might not find refilling the vitamin container romantic. If you asked my mom what love is to her, she might tell you a sweet story about my dad and a York Peppermint Pattie. What says romance to you? Or realizing romance and love have different nuances, what says love to you?