Crossroads

Three years after deciding to attend college in Oregon I married the spouse. That one decision changed the course of my life.

One of my favorite bloggers, Mr. London Street, recently wrote about wanting his life to be a movie.  He wanted snappy dialog, memorable settings, and atmosphere. He, of course, is the hero in his movie.  Since I spent yesterday traveling home from Austin, I had lots of time sitting on airplanes and in the terminals for my  mind to wander.  I found myself pondering the turning points in life and wishing that there was a soundtrack that would clue me in when I was about to make a momentous decision.  The music would rise and I would know that I was about to be eaten by a shark or make a life changing decision.

I don't need a soundtrack to decide if I'm having cheerios or mini-wheat's for breakfast, but I can think of numerous times when a music cue would have given me more time to think through an opportunity before making a decision.  Often my first response is to say no.  Usually, with more thought, I can see the opportunities that saying yes can provide.

It's funny to think about the small decisions that can change everything.  After high school I left California for college in Oregon.  I'd never been to Oregon. I'd never even been to northern California.  I decided I wanted to go to school somewhere different.  I chose Eastern Oregon College (now Eastern Oregon University) because they wrote me a nice personal letter.  The college was smaller than my high school.  I didn't decide based on what I wanted to study or my plans for a future career...and I've lived in Oregon ever since.  I'm not saying it was a bad decision, just that I didn't realize the impact it would have.  My whole life changed with one decision.

I made another decision today.  I didn't think about it too much.  Even though there was no soundtrack, I'm pretty sure it will be life changing.  I bought a lottery ticket for the $550 million Powerball lottery. This could be one of those crossroads...cue the music!

Gratitude

This month I have been one of many Facebook users who have been writing a daily post about what we are thankful for.   I've found that the more I focus on the blessings that I have received, the happier I feel about life in general.  As the season turns to long cold and dark days, it would be easy to wallow in gloom and doom...and if Democrats had lost the election, I might really be in mourning!  But I have much to be thankful for.  While I have given a gratitude shout out to some material things (hot tub, chocolate, and diet coke to name a few), it is the people in my  life that are most important to me.  Even though I am somewhat reclusive, family and friends are what kept coming to the forefront as I made my daily post.  All in all I realize how fortunate I am to live in the United States and not want for basic necessities.

Tomorrow the spouse and I are flying to Texas for Thanksgiving.  We spend every Thanksgiving with our grandchildren.   I hope you get to spend time with family and friends this Thanksgiving.  Have a wonderful holiday. 

Jann

Five Reasons Why I Voted For Obama

I voted last week.  In Oregon we cast our ballots by mail.  We don’t troop through the snow or rain to an empty exhibition building at the fairgrounds or an elementary school gym.  We vote in the comfort of our own homes (which is quite the middle class perspective, isn't it?), slap on a stamp and the fate of our nation is entrusted to the US Postal Service.

I voted for Barack Obama.  I am not one of those voters who thinks Republicans are evil…hell, I’m married to one!  (For the record, the spouse was much more liberal in his youth.)  I think both candidates are good men.  I think they both love this country.  I also think they both want to carry out their vision of what America could be….and here are five reasons why I am voting for Obama: 

1.   When I look at the Democratic Party, I see myself and my community.  Yes, I know there are blacks, and Latinos, and other minorities in the Republican Party, but the driving force is rich, privileged white guys, or embarassing white women. When I watched the Democratic Convention, the participants were representative of the America that I know.  I may be a middle class white person, but the America I know is diverse.  Diversity is strength and the Republican Party doesn’t seem to recognize that.

2.   I don’t think of myself as a one issue voter, but I support women’s issues and that includes protecting a women’s right to make her own decisions about her body.  I am not pro-abortion.  I don’t know any woman who is.  I am pro-choice because I don’t want anyone telling me what I can or cannot do with my body.  It’s a trust issue.  Trust me to make a good decision.  I’m a smart, caring, competent person.  TRUST ME!  Trust my daughter and my granddaughters.

3.   I like how Barack Obama represents the United States.  He is educated, well spoken, and thoughtful.  He doesn’t say stupid stuff.  Even when I might disagree with his position, he delivers the message in a thoughtful, reasoned way.  He represents us well.

4.   I’m not sure where Mitt Romney stands on many issues.  His position seems to change depending on the audience he is talking to.  There was a time, when he was governor of Massachusetts, when he was more moderate.  I could have voted for the moderate Mitt.  I can’t vote for the Mitt who panders to the Tea Party.  He has modified his positions for votes…and I want to vote for the person who stands up for what he believes, even when it might not be the popular position.

5.   Barack Obama inherited an economy in crisis.  It took eight years for Bush to create the economic mess; I’m willing to give Obama the same amount of time to pull us out.  The economy is showing signs of improvement.  Obama saved the automotive industry.  He deserves a second term.

I'm proud to have cast my vote for Barack Obama.

Still Learning in Elementary School

One of the benefits of being a grandmother is the opportunity to spend time in elementary school.  Last Tuesday I had lunch at Pond Springs Elementary School with each of my granddaughters.  I say each because they have lunch at different times and they insisted that I eat with each of them.  It is no easy task for a senior to climb into the middle of those hard bench seats.

I sat across the table from my kindergartner and her classmates all around us kept up a constant chatter of questions and reminders of the many school rules.  I almost humiliated them by getting out of my seat to throw away trash.

"You can't do that," a small voice insisted urgently, "you have to wait until they tell us!"

I even talked during "red star time" and three little faces turned to me, with fingers held to lips and in unison said "shhhh!"

The boy sitting next to me enthusiastically enjoyed blue jello as his first course, opening his mouth wide to show me.

"Look, I'm eating brains!"

He saved his banana for last and couldn't get it open.  He held it out to Ms. Vo, a student intern, for help.

"Do you know how to open a banana like the monkeys do?" she asked him.  She showed him the two ends of the banana and then turned it upside down and squeezed the round end.  She easily pulled down the peel.

"Not that way!" he screamed.  "I don't want it that way."

Ms. Vo calmly told him it was too late.

"It doesn't taste good that way," he insisted...and then he ate the banana.

I was amaze at how much easier it is to open a banana from the non-traditional end.  I guess you're never too old to learn something new in elementary school.

I found the video on You Tube...Enjoy!

Final Thoughts on My Weekend at Vashon Island

Our first group photo, moments after meeting at Lavender Hill Farm.  L-R Deb, Sandi, Sally, Linda, me (standing).  Photo by DJan Stewart at DJan-ity  (She took the picture, that's why she's not in the photo!) 

It has been almost a week since I returned home from the weekend retreat on Vashon Island with five bloggers that I  met through their blogs.  When Linda at Thoughts from a Bag Lady in Waiting first suggested the get-together, I was a little leery and I wrote about my fears here.  My qualms were unfounded.  Driving home last Sunday night I had five hours in the car to reflect on the magical weekend.  Prior to meeting at Vashon, the six of us knew each other only through our blogs, yet we recognized each other immediately.  There were no awkward silences in our conversations.   Because we knew each other through our writing, we had an understanding of each other.  We knew each others stories.

I like to write and I probably express myself better on paper than I do in conversation.  Words are important to me.   Several times over the course of the weekend my blogging friends reported  that they appreciated something  I had written in a comment on a blog. There is nothing more validating to me as a writer than to hear that my words made a difference. That we could develop such strong bonds through the Internet is remarkable to me.  We have found a community...a community that provides encouragement, support, and understanding.  This community also has a healthy dose of laughter.

Saturday night after dinner we all settled in comfy chairs in the living room and talked.  Sally asked us "What do you look for in deciding to follow a blog?"  Good writing seemed to be the consensus answer.  We then began to compare notes on which blogs we followed.  In the conversation below all the details and names are changed.

Blogger:  I follow  Depressed Granny.

Me:  Oh, what does she write about?

Blogger:  Well, she lives in a nursing home and she posts pictures of her gerbil.

Me:  I couldn't say anything...I was laughing so hard.  The Internet is a magical place where depressed nursing home residents find a following with pictures of their gerbils.  She probably dresses him up in seasonal costumes...and we drop by every week to see what's new at Sunnyvale Nursing Home.  So, it's not just the good writing that keeps us reading.

What is it that draws us together?  This weekend on Vashon Island it was our willingness to take a risk and share our humanity...there were no pictures of gerbils!



Our last photo, in the living room at Lavender Hill, just before we left for home.  In the front L-R Deb, Linda, DJan.  Standing in the rear L-R Sandi, me, Sally  DJan set the timer on her camera for this shot.

 

My Weekend With The Ax Murderers

At Robinson Point Lighthouse on Vashon Island with L-R Sally, Sandi, Deb, Linda, me (in the back),and DJan

One of the pleasures of writing a blog has been getting to know other bloggers.  Even though I haven't really met them, I feel like I have friends from around the world.  It's a different type of friendship.  We've shared details of our lives large and small, but each of us has been selective.  None of my blog readers knows about my unsightly, hairy mole...oh, wait, did I write about that too?   This weekend I have stepped outside my comfort zone and I am camped out in a delightful farm house on Vashon Island with five other bloggers.  Five strangers who feel like old friends.  If I were Agatha Christie someone would be murdered!

The journey here was the first adventure.  The written directions said it was a 20 minute journey from the airport to the ferry terminal.  We were equipped with printed directions from Map Quest and two iPhones...and still drove around in circles for an hour and a half before joining the mile long line for the ferry. 

We arrived at the house that we jointly rented for the weekend and were immediately charmed by the location.  The house is called Lavender Hill Farm.  I write this from the covered porch overlooking the water.  The scent of lavender wafts up from the field below.  The sun shines brightly and Mount Rainier rises above the trees on the opposite shore.  Conversation buzzes around me as my blogging pals catch up with each other.  It's like we're long-time friends who haven't seen each other for awhile.  

We all agreed to write something on our blogs about this weekend and link to each other.  So check out my friends:
Sally at Retired English Teacher
Linda at Thoughts from a Bag Lady In Waiting
DJan at Eye on the Edge
Deb at Catbird Scout
Sandi at   Flying into the Light

If an ax murderer gets me...question my new friends above!

Nana's Changing Spots

I considered saving this little story to publish on October 23, known to chemists the world over as Mole Day.  I have to admit that I'm not exactly sure what a mole is in chem-speak, but ever since she took high school chemistry my daughter has called me on my birthday(10/23) to wish me Happy Mole Day.  So this is a story about moles, but not the chemical kind or the animal kind.

I spent the summers of my youth slathered in baby oil and iodine soaking up the sun in Southern California.  Trying to achieve the perfect California golden girl tan too often resulted in the red lobster look of sunburn.  Back then we didn't worry about UV rays and holes in the ozone.  My misspent youth as a sun goddess has come back to haunt me. 

Spots have spontaneously appeared on my skin.  Months ago I sat in a waiting room and read about the danger signs of skin cancer.  I made a mental note to make an appointment to get those suspicious moles checked...and I never made the phone call.   Finally in a flurry of activity earlier this summer I made appointments to get all body systems checked.  I had blood tests and saw my doctor.  I saw both the optometrist and ophthalmologist.  My eyes have "matured" so now I have new glasses.  One afternoon two weeks ago I made the trek to Pendleton to see the dermatologist.

Dr. Skin (the names have been changed to protect the innocent) has his office in a shabby Victorian house.  The exam rooms are on the second floor, up a narrow staircase with shag carpet.   From the exam table I could see dust bunnies around the edges of the well-worn wood floor.  Dr. Skin checked all my spots and found one on my back that he didn't like.  That one was removed, placed in a jar to be sent to the lab, and I was out the door in less than a half an hour.

I didn't lose any sleep worrying about my irregularly colored mole.  I think deep down that I just don't believe that anything really bad can happen to me.  I'd almost forgotten about the whole experience until the phone rang last week and I heard the assistant from Dr. Skin's office on the line. 

"Hell...ooo Yann" she crooned in her singsong accented voice.  "I have the lab results and it is anormal..."

I was frozen to the phone, focused only on the echo of what I heard.  Did she say abnormal?  Abnormal?  Not me!

"It's abnormal?" I finally managed to sputter.

"Yes, it is a normal mole" she says.  OH!  A normal mole, not an abnormal mole.

"Thank you for calling" I say and hang up.

See, nothing bad can happen to me.