End of a Family Holiday

Yes, we did Christmas, three of my four children, all of my two granddaughters, and way too much eating of chocolate (why did I have to consume a bag of popcorn each night, in addition to everything else?). But we, Taylors, prevailed, and a new year is almost upon us. As we all know, the gifts were not the high point: just being together rocked. But we missed our Melanie and her soon-to-be husband, also a Taylor (and why would I ever change my name back to Cawley?).

Now, back in Valrico, we are still a family, but just Sean and Robin, and my big brother, Pat, are here, for another few days. Then, each of us will return to our separate lives, enriched by our time spent together. 

That 15 foot tree, or whatever it is, is waiting to be stripped and put away, the weeds in the yard are waiting to be pulled, and I have to start packing for my next adventure.

Joy.

Presidents: The New Pharoahs

Yes, I was just reading where the Saudis and other less-than-desirables have donated funds for the Clinton library. It hit me, just then, that these Presidential Libraries are like the Pyramids of old, one man's quest for immortality. They all do it, and it is just the same thing; that's all it is.

Great excitement for me that my baby boy and his darling sweetheart are coming here to Tampa to spend eight days of the holiday. Just having them in the same airspace, and then being fortunate to be going across the state for four days at Christmas, where I will see my other son's family which includes my granddaughters, is a welcome event in my rather staid life.

I am checking into reviving my nursing career, as well as writing what I hope to be a funny tale of Internet dating--it isn't pretty, but it is funny, and my experiences do reflect the fact that, at least in my case, it doesn't work. But, like so many life experiences, it is one worth having.

Florida is beautiful now--fifties at night, seventies during the days (although it seems to be sneaking above eighty lately), and I can guess the joy that northerners feel when they deplane here.

I have two identical dresses to wear to my daughter's upcoming wedding in February. One is too small and the other is too big. Why is it always like this? Irony dwelleth here.

Another Happy to Be Me Day

 What is amazing is that I realize this indisputable fact: I am in a very good place, and likely to not find a better one. My greatest joy, that my four children turned-out just fine, has given me a personal peace that few people ever get. I am thrilled just existing each day. To add a chunk of frosting on that, I do not have to work to provide for essentials, and a little bit more, nor do I feel badly about spending my time doing exactly what I want to do.

  Many people in my exact position, chronologically, and financially, would THINK or FEEL that they need MORE money for, well, more things. I am not, nor have ever been enamored of things, so I am content with what I have. I am fully aware of my mortality, causing me to not waste the time I "have left" pursuing false gods or foolish "bling." I know that, at least, some of my children feel that I have some sort of exalted destiny, but I think that I might be closer to the Buddhist "being" person than most people. 

  Yes, I would like to leave a great book  that STAYS IN PRINT when I die, but leaving a mediocre tome of dubious value does not fascinate me. I would very much like to look better than I do, lose some wrinkles and manage to adjust my overall figure somewhat, but, I know that I am not capable of doing that--so I am okay with what I have, and just try to do an hour or so of vigorous exercise about every day, while keeping good hygiene and a decent hair color. 

  And yes, I would like a sweetheart whom I could love and trust: not one I have to explain to others, one I have to tolerate or one I have to support. Just those three caveats seem to eliminate everyone I have met so far. I am learning why so many of my single friends say that they have learned to settle for friendships, as a relationship brings more bad than good, over time. It is beginning to make sense, for people of my age group who already have children. 

  So, I am enjoying each day, knowing that I don't know what the next will bring, and it, most likely, won't be any better than right now. And so, I will take my leisurely bath, then do some re-arranging of my home, maybe dig a hole or two in my front yard, and, generally, enjoy the 70 degree day. Later tonight, I will go to the gym, then to a store to get candle holders for my daughter's wedding, and then stop at Wal-mart on my way home to pick up a few things. 

  There is a loneliness aspect to this sort of life, but I still live with the belief that it will work out for the best. Maybe right now is the best, and if it is so, I am going to appreciate it. 

  After all, I really did already get my wish: this is all gravy, and very peaceful.

Dinner at Stonewood

Stonewood Tavern and Grill is a very upscale chain restaurant that features all booth seating, and the currently popular menu of fish, steak and creamed spinach. I met a guy there for dinner, yesterday: he had driven four hours from Georgia for this experience: I drove 18 minutes, so I did not feel overly burdened. But the three-hour meal was not without its entertainment.

Seems this fellow spends a month in the South of France each summer--at one of their nude beaches! I thought that he went there for the culture, the scenery and the food. Silly me: he was trying to sign me up to peel and swim. When I, politely demurred, thinking that the conversation would proceed on to other things, I was nonplussed as he continued to tell the joys of nudity, especially with his assortment of "friends" who were all women. Just why he found this topic so compelling puzzled me, but then, people get their jollies in particular ways. 

It was another disappointment for me, to meet still another middle-aged fellow who was totally immersed in his life, his pastimes, and seemed to be seeking yet another potential nudist to sit beside him at the shore. I mentioned that I did not like getting sand in my privates, and that I did not enjoy viewing nude people, save one, specific fellow whom I did not name, nor describe. 

This evening became excruciating, saved only by the fact that he had to drive four hours back to his home. I was relieved to return to my "clothing required" home, and to say farewell to this very sad, Hugh Heffner wannabe. I wished him peace, no pun intended, and godspeed.

And so, tonight I am dragging boxes down the ladder from the attic, boxes of Christmas decorations, and happy to be me. People get very odd as they age, alone. I hope I am not like that.

Beautiful Overcast Day

and we are even having occasional showers. Florida gets way too much sunshine, so I am always pleased when a cloudy day comes along.  As for the yard, well, I try to do one thing every day: today I am going to mulch an area. If I get really ambitious, I will dig holes to move three or four crotons into.

The cable guy is here, discovering that the other installer did, in fact, fail to hook up the cable in the proper room: I always worry when I cannot make something electronic work, that another person will just pick it up and turn it "on" and I will feel like the usual dope. This, recently, happened with MacBook, which would not load my Safari browser for about a day and a half. I took it in, to the Apple Store at the mall, and it worked perfectly, making me feel like a dimwad. It was good for one, thing, however, as the technician there loaded Mozilla Firefox for me, so I would have an option in the future. 

The meatballs are cooking in the sauce, and I am about to launch into making a new recipe for Pumpkin Bars--I am going to substitute pecans for the raisins. Tomorrow I am making a carrot cake. I have no plans for Thanksgiving, other than to heat a TV dinner, homemade, but one of five I put together to give to my parents when I next see them, along with the breast meat that I put into the freezer for them. I plan to get a lot of things done around my house, though, such as moving things from bags and piles into drawers and closets. 

I would stop this boring prattle, but the cable guy is still working, putting in an extra cable for me so that I can watch TV in the kitchen, and my internet is out, so all I can do is to keep typing along until he is done. I am guessing that I will offer him a tip of some sort, maybe ten dollars, for putting it in for me, through the wall, and all. That was not why he came out--it was because of the non-working cable: I just asked him for a "favor" being as I am "all alone" here. 

I have to find a drill because one table leg's hole is too deep for the longest bolt made: this very masculine woman at Home Depot told me how to fix it: drill the hold big enough so that I can fit the 5/12 inch dowel in the hole. Measure the depth of the hole, cut the dowel the correct length (like two inches, max), put glue in the hole, put the dowel in to dry. The next day, drill a new hole, right into the now hardened dowel area, and screw the bolt into that hole, and now it will work.

Now, to find a drill...

San Diego in Tampa

Yes, the hot weather just may be gone for the "winter." It is 58 degrees at ten am this morning, and only expected to reach 64: this means that I can work on yard things like digging and lifting and planting, and not reach temperatures near boiling. Of course, to do that, I must get out of my toasty bed, with quilt and electric blanket. 

I have learned that it does not take much to make me feel content: but that I do have certain minimums. I need a warm bed with pillows for sitting up, a table nearby to hold items from drinks to earplugs, a TV, books to read and a computer with the Internet. I don't need a car, or neat clothes, or special friends, or much else. I recall the song from MY FAIR LADY: all I want is a room somewhere, far away from the cold night air, with one enormous chair..." 

This lack of high expectations has made me a very non-ambitious person, very unconcerned with "winning" or "keeping up with the Joneses" or accruing a lot of money, collections or things of any nature. My discouraging habit of losing much of whatever I do have has contributed to this total lack of trying to accumulate any wealth. As a consequence, I do not respect those with wealth, or things, any more than I respect those without them. This brings me to the place where I have almost always been, that of a proletarian democrat who is not impressed by anything in the world beyond beauty and truth. 

I know that this lifelong attitude has made it impossible, so far, to find long-term comfort with a single man: once I get to know someone, and recognize serious flaws in his character, I am no longer "impressed" with him, and he senses that. The relationship goes rapidly downhill, from there, and I find myself in a room with nary a view, but a warm bed with TV and Internet.

I realized this two or so years ago, which was what sent me to nursing school with the plan of working in some exotic location, helping people, remaining single, and writing journals and recipe books. I was, temporarily, knocked off my schedule by the second cancer scare of my life, and, subsequently, thought that I might find my destiny with about, hmm, four fellows that I saw, in some random order. Alas and alack, those relationships only reaffirmed the wisdom of my original plan.

So, back in Tampa, with two roommates helping me keep my house going, I am formulating a new plan, with no hurry. 

In the meantime, I still have my room, my computer, and my TV.

From the Hills of Los Angeles

My daughter's home in the Eagle Rock section of Los Angeles is just adorable, neat, clean, and modern. The photos she sent did not really represent it as it looks--an ultra-modern, all freshly painted and decorated, roomy two-story home that sits on a terraced hill that makes it, and the homes around it, sit within their own nooks of privacy. If there weren't two very large dogs that bark next door, I would not realize anyone was around. 

All I have done since my arrival has been cooking, some laundry, walking to stores and the library, and, well, a few long baths, and lots of dvd-watching. I am having a wonderful time. Tonight we may go to a Mexican restaurant in Pasadena, although, if they don't arrive soon, it may be too late. The traffic, you know...

My other daughter arrives tomorrow night at LAX, and we are all three going to get our nails done, watch Melanie be fitted for her wedding gown, and then go look at shoes, I think, all on Friday. In the evening the girls are going to two Halloween parties.

Sometime I am supposed to find a mother-of-the-bride dress, too. Ugh.

Forgot about this blog

Well oops and all of that: I have a handwritten journal that I have kept for many years, so I, sometimes, forget about journaling, and so forth. Also, I have been somewhat depressed lately, as I have a cold, my property insurance company is trying to weasel out of paying my claim for lost items in my recent move to Tampa from New York, and I was rear-ended by a high school kid who was on his way to the Homecoming game. Now my truck has a dented rear, and I need the money I am getting for a specific purpose, so it is always going to look like the Beverly Hillbillies, not the look I was hoping for.

I cancelled my trip to my parents' tomorrow because my rear wheel on my truck is making noises, and giving a bumpy ride: I don't want to have to be towed up Interstate 75, and I really do not enjoy seeing my parents anymore, and that makes me feel guilty. My mom keeps talking about her colonoscopy, and other inappropriate topics, and it is sad and, also, depressing (see paragraph one). 

I am working in my yard a lot less than I should: the heat is too much for me, and I always get bitten or sweat burns my eyes, or I get so hot that I get dizzy, or I can't start the lawnmower, or I can't lift the bags of compost, etc. etc.  It is always something itchy or painful or sore. I wish I had the money to pay to have it done, but I don't, and, as I am not working yet, may as well do the landscaping: but physical work is not me.

One nice thing: my old high school friend, Floyd, met me at Regency Square and gave me free contact lenses. If they work, I will buy more from him--not exactly how heroin pushers do it, but sorta. He thinks I look like this Playboy Playmate from years ago, named Barbie Benton, but I think I look better, so there you go. I was mad at him for two years because he just stopped emailing and calling me, but, for some reason, he is back.

So I am going to New York on Wednesday,  seeing my son, his softball game, and a pizza party, then, probably, training out to Bay Shore until Sunday when I have to get the train back to JFK to fly to Los Angeles to spend a week with my daughters, planning a wedding and trying not to embarrass my older daughter. 

When I return to Tampa on Nov 4, I will have to find a job, or start substitute teaching, or something. Oh no.

Three weeks until I leave for New York, and then Los Angeles. Within this time I hope to get all of my pre-job search and resume things together (I have attended nine colleges, so assembling a set of transcripts is quite a task), get my front yard landscaping in place and growing, and get my new stand-up material set arranged in my mind. There are some comedy clubs here, and it seems like a good place to practice. My concern is that the audiences tend to be, well, people who live here, and they are not my target. Oh well, it won't hurt to try. 

My new driveway is in, and I immediately had to tell my roommate to NOT park there. I had the drive put in for several reasons, one being that the existing driveway was a good distance from the front door, quite a hike for visitors. I had extended the old drive so that she could park more out of my way, but she left her car in the front drive all night last night. It doesn't matter who parks there overnight, just so that they are gone early in the morning. I hope I made my point to her.

I am doing so many housekeeping tasks, and I have to admit that it is not so much fun keeping a house for yourself, as it is for a family. But, life comes to us in stages, or phases, and this phase is my solo outing. To every thing there is a season...

Better Days are Happening

  My house is looking more and more like a human being lives in it. This weekend my son and his family came to visit, and all of the furniture in the garage got moved to places in the house where it belonged. He, also, brought me some bookcases he had made (neat), a cabinet, a rocking chair, and gifts of a hand truck (for moving heavy things), a dolly (same use), and a tool set that has everything from a hammer and measuring tape to sockets and picture-hangers. I get the feeling that he is anticipating that I will be spending a lot more time on my own.

  I kinda get that feeling, too, sometimes, as much as I would like, and miss, having a best friend/boyfriend to share my life with. The truth is, that at my age, 59, it is very difficult to interface with another adult on the many levels required for a close relationship. Hence, we see, and will continue to see, more, people in mid-life and beyond, living alone. I just do not really want to be one of those, but as I have met a large number of potential mates over the past two years, I have to say that being alone is preferable to feeling like you are imprisoned in an unsuitable relationship.

  So, I realize that I will need to find a job, or even two "little" jobs, to supplement my small income. But I am feeling a lot better about having my home, now. It is looking better, and I am enjoying having a decent space to call my own. After two years living in other people's homes, I do see the upside of being able to determine how you live. It's a good thing.

  My son chopped down a dead tree in my yard. We are sure that the previous neighbors deliberately killed the tree. They were rednecks who got in over their head in the house, left, but spent much of their time here stealing the tangerines from my tree. When I asked the mother to stop doing that, she accused me of not "sharing, because there is plenty for all."  I told her that I would share the ones that I brought over to her, but that neither she nor the children were to take them. So, soon after they moved away, the tree began a downhill process of dying, while every other tree within miles flourished. 

  It is nice that the home is vacant, and the hedges that we both planted almost completely block the home. The times have changed, for the better.