Tuesday, January 28, 2014

Bear With Me......

 
 
The weather forecast is dire...the two weeks just behind us have been frigid and bleak.  The beauty that one finds in a winter scene has given way to frozen landscape, snow rollers and trees that groan under the strain of their icy burden.  If I sound as if I am sick of winter....I am.

I think for the first time I understand why some animals hibernate.  Bears gorge themselves on berries, plants, and any slower animals they happen upon in preparation.  They pile on a thick layer of fat,  then simply curl up and sleep.   All in all not a bad way to diet.

Although I spent the fall months bulking up as if I were planning a long fast, I have remained awake. In the few hours of watery daylight we seem to eek out at this time of year I feel lethargic at best.   Most mornings it is nearly dark when I leave the house, often it is dark when I return.   By seven pm I feel as if I've been up for days, and my instincts tell me it is time to sleep, sleep, sleep. With the same helpless feelings I experienced fighting  insomnia over the last forty years, I now find myself dealing with a desire to sleep ten hours a day.

It was February of last year when my insomnia left and my desire to hibernate kicked in.  Over my lifetime I have taken herbs, prescription drugs, purchased every shape and size of bed pillow on the market, and tried every kookie thing friends and acquaintances suggested, to help me sleep.  I've put Vicks Vapo Rub on my feet and worn heavy socks to bed.  I've drunk hot milk, hot toddies and eaten pasta before bedtime on the promise that carbs make you sleepy.  I've tried to sleep propped up, flat out, and slightly tipsy....all to no avail.  I was completely resigned to being what I had always been; the woman running on three or four hours sleep every day.

Nothing had changed when we left for vacation last year at this time.  No medicine, no diet changes, no exercise program....nothing was different.  We headed south, and our first night we stayed at a beautiful new hotel.  I admired the lovely room, crawled into what looked like an acre of white linen, and slept like a baby for the first time in a very long time.

The next morning I felt something strange; eventually I realized this foreign feeling was what some people referred to as 'rested'.  I chalked it up to the hotel bed.   It only confirmed what I've always firmly believed....hotel bedding comes straight from heaven and cannot be purchased by mere mortals.

We arrived at our destination and proceeded to enjoy the sun, the sand, and doing nothing.  A couple of days passed before it dawned on me that I had continued to sleep through the night.  I wasn't the first one up to make coffee...and I had missed the sunrise!  What in the world?

That whole vacation time I was afraid to look at my sleeping experience too closely for fear I'd screw it up.  Before I knew it we were heading home...and I seemed to be leaving my insomnia in the rear view mirror.

And so, here I am one year later fighting off my desire to hibernate.  I am convinced I could crawl into bed on October 31st and rub the sleep from my eyes on April 1st.  I no longer get up at two a.m. to write, I don't haunt the internet hoping for a sleepless Facebook friend to chat with.  The only down side I can find is I now have six fewer hours each day to work with. I can live with that.
If I had a clue as to why this change has occurred I would share the wealth with the multitude of women my age who complain of being unable to sleep, or stay asleep, every single night.  I don't have a magic potion...all I have to share with you is the hope that one day you will wake up rested and refreshed.  It may take you a while to identify the feeling....but once you get used to it you'll love it.

I don't try to explain it and I don't question it.  I know my night-prowling insomnia can return whenever it wants to...so I don't look a gift horse (or a hibernating bear) in the mouth.

                                                             Life is Good

Friday, January 17, 2014

Picture This


 
 

 
The best gift I received this past Christmas was some photographs of my grandchildren.  Although I have enough picture frames stashed in the basement to open my own gift shop, I decided I wanted something different.  Without hesitation I jumped on the internet and started looking around.

As my electronic shopping progressed things started opening that I hadn’t clicked on; one of them being the website for Saks Fifth Avenue.   Being the TJ Maxx kind of gal I am I don’t shop Saks very often, but what the heck.  I typed in ‘picture frames’ and was immediately dumped out on the Ralph Lauren items on their site.  Fine with me…I love everything Ralph Lauren does, except the fashion photos with emaciated, ectomorphic females striking impossible poses.  Generally these skinny young lasses are standing in positions that only occur just before your legs go out from under you on an icy sidewalk.  They’re young….they’ll learn…and that’s another column.

My cursor finally arrived at an attractive brown frame.  Scrolling down I discovered it was the “Ralph Lauren, Bennett series, faux (that still means fake, right?) Croc picture frame.  Choose from 5 x 7 or 8 ½ x 11 sizes and this tastefully crafted, imported (that still means made in Japan, doesn’t it?) frame will only set you back from $395.00 to $695.00.  The body of the descriptive copy assured me it ‘exudes modern polish’. 

My mind immediately began to play out the conversation I would have with my husband if a bill arrived for this picture frame…….

He:  “Someone must have stolen our credit card!  There’s a charge on here for seven hundred bucks to Saks Fifth Avenue.”

Me:   “Well, ah……”         

He:  Huh?

Me:  “You remember the terrific pictures we got of the children for Christmas?  I had enough frames for all but one, so I shopped on the internet.”

He:  Ashen faced, “You paid seven hundred dollars for a picture frame?”

Me:  “Not JUST a picture frame. A Ralph Lauren Bennett series faux croc picture frame!  And it’s imported…”

He:  “That still means made in Japan, doesn’t it?”

Me:   “The smaller one was only four hundred dollars, but the picture was too large, so I thought…..”

He:  “You paid seven hundred dollars for a picture frame.”  This time it was not a question, but a tightly controlled statement of fact.

Me:  “They gave me free shipping….”

At this point my day dream stops, because even I can’t imagine what my husband might do next if he discovered a seven hundred dollar picture frame on our charge card.  Let’s just say if you have to explain it, you probably can’t afford it.

                                                                    Life is Good

 

Thursday, January 9, 2014

Just Talk to the Bird


I am a great collector of pictures that ‘speak’ to me.  That’s not quite accurate…I am an accumulator, not a collector.  Be that as it may I save pictures that touch my heart and speak to my mind in files on my laptop, on my iPad, in my iPhone.   I squirrel away manila files that have clippings and I have photo albums with pictures that are going to be my future projects or goals I’ve set for myself.  Suffice it to say…I’m a picture hoarder.

Today my iPad warned me that my hoarding has reached critical mass, and I must purge some things or pay the technical consequences.  That started me looking through pictures and this one struck a cord with me……

 

Studying this I wondered why I chose to save this picture?  It's not as if I'm for or against birds….they serve their purpose and I serve my own.  I guess too many of them put me into “Alfred Hitchcock” mode, and I begin to worry that they might swoop down on me.   Twice in my lifetime I’ve had a bird decide to come into the closed dining room window without invitation.   After repeatedly throwing itself against the glass for days on end, the bird finally left…I’m not sure if it was in a birdie rescue squad or not.

So…I studied the picture and, as they always do, it spoke to me.   It said “faith”.  Here is a beautiful creature of nature enjoying a meal for which it neither worked nor paid.  It isn’t carrying a water bottle, a billfold or credit cards, and it isn’t scurrying off to a job.  The bird takes it on faith that there will be another tree or bush with fruit for him to eat.  He knows water will be provided, and he desires nothing more.  The bird obviously lives close enough to nature to know his needs will be met.  I need to take a lesson from this bird.

Each morning as I struggle to my car carrying a heavy assortment of what I have determined to be my daily needs, I know there must be a better way.  In my wheeled laptop case I have my computer for writing.  In one of the side pockets I carry my ipad; another pocket contains all the cords and converters needed to feed power to all of my devices. Over my shoulder the strap of my purse digs in; the weight of my handbag is unbelieveable!  Then I’m also schlepping my lunch bag, which contains enough food to save the Donnor party.  I usually have at least one bottle of water, and into this juggling act I add a travel mug of coffee. 

Between computers and cell phone and daytimer I carry enough electronics to operate the space shuttle, and if I am stranded in a snow drift I have food for at least one uncomfortable, but life sustaining, week.  My enormous handbag contains a dozen or so credit cards stuffed into a billfold large enough to live on its own, at least a months accumulation of unopened mail and sales receipts, and a bag of makeup that I do not use but won’t leave home without.  At any given time I’ve got at least four dollars in paper money and a minimum of seventeen dollars in change lurking at the bottom of the bag.  I also carry tea bags and the brand of artificial sweetner I prefer.  Restaurants generally don’t carry it, but I can never find it in this mess when I need it anyway.

I admire women who carry tiny little purses because I know they have more faith in the world than I do.  Unless I leave the house with all this ‘stuff’ I feel vulnerable and unprepared to deal with life.  I obviously lack the faith that the little bird in the picture has…and I envy him.   I have this abiding understanding that someday all this stuff will come in handy; the never ending scavenger hunt that has become my daily routine will pay off.    

And so, the picture of this lovely bird whispers to me about faith, while my urban survivalist instincts keep me dragging things to and from my car.  But just remember this…if you’re one of those people who goes out into the world totally unprepared and suddenly discovers you’re in desperate need of a colander…just talk to the bird.

                                                                 Life is Good