I thought I was braver

I have always thought I was pretty calm, not prone to dramatics, it was a self image I liked. Yesterday proved me wrong. There are scary things that leave me speechless and crying for help in a little squeaky voice. Yesterday morning while eating breakfast I got an email that there were problems on the project I am supporting, so I headed up to the office to log on and get to work. In about an hour we hear Zed throwing up. Not one little oops but several times and the he was a little quavery mess hiding under my desk. Near lunch time I finished up and headed down to the kitchen to clear the counter and get organized for lunch. What I was wearing: golf skirt, shirt, bare feet. What had arrived for lunch? A 3 foot black snake was snuggled up on the rug in front of the kitchen sink and because I was reaching for dishes on the bar I almost stepped on him. Act 2. I run to the other side of the counter and start "screaming" for help. Well not actually screaming. According to my hubby I was squeaking some sound that I thought was "help! Help!". The two guys amble down to see what was up. Finally seeing what I was pointing to they lept in to action. Hubby goes out to get a shovel. Son goes to get something to pin the snake down with. I maintain my role of being s quivering mess. The heroes return armed--- and the snake is missing. A search ensues. One of the heroes leaves for golf something. The son continues the search - under the dishwasher, in the cupboards. Not many places for a snake to hide EXCEPT the air duct directly under the sink. Act 3. I stand at the end of the counter staring at the vent while we exchange thoughts on ways to drive the snake back into the kitchen. I turn down the temp, turn on the fan, we put down cardboard, lay out bacon. No snake. I google options. No help. I call my Terminix guy. He can do ants but no snakes. The scene now has dishes on the counter no lunch me standing at the end of the counter one eye on the vent, one looking at my iPad time ticking away. Solution needed to to keep snake from sneaking back in. Pantyhose to the rescue. Son unscrews the vent, notices the space between the vent and the floor that leads to the crawl space, hope now arises that snake has headed home but to be on the safe side he slides the vent cover into the knee high pantyhose, knots it on the end and screws it back on. Ok it is tacky but I feel safer. And I now think the suddenly sick dog was probably the result of him licking a spot of (oh gross) snake slime that while not fatal is toxic. Today all is peaceful. Happy puppy. No snake.

Babysitting

Today my youngest son turned 30!  And he and his wife took me up on my offer to babysit while they went to dinner.  I got a quick lesson in putting her down for her nap and then got her up and we played while they ran errands.  That probably sounds easy to most everyone, but I hardly ever see her and was not at all sure what she would think when this strange woman appeared in her bedroom to get her up.  She was a trooper.  Her first reaction was - hmm but no tears just no smiles.  So we played peak-a-boo and slowly turned up the lighting until she was ready to put up her hands to be lifted out of the crib.  On to a clean nappie and clothes before going downstairs. 

 

We looked out the window at the men unloading a new water heater across the road, she wafted under the sheer curtains to look for something exciting but after a while and we moved on to playing with a few toys before I discovered her favorite game of snuggle wrestle. 

She would hide behind my back while I asked where was Madi - when she peaked around she would giggle when I swept her up and snuggled her.  We moved on to the stamp, stamp, wiggle, wiggle dance.  (I learned this watching Ashby's before bed show).  Tonight I got to watch her have a bath and hair dry before reading her two stories.  She is snuggled in her bed with Frog over her head and her blanket under her head sound asleep.  Now to see if I can stay awake until her parents come home! 

Dissed in the hood - revisited

Seems that somehow I deleted my blog post for Tuesday.  I wrote it on my IPad and must not have saved it correctly.  So now the whole purpose of the blog seems silly.  But in summary, I came up last week to help find new homes for many of my Aunt Jane's treasures and to clear out her apartment so the keys could be turned over to the complex. 

My aunt was a single lady who lived frugally, she loved nice things, but her apartment was not overly ornate.  She was also a fiercly independent and private person.  Very few family members had ever been inside her apartment, and her neighbors all described her as a truly sweet person who would never accept any help.  Over the course of several days family came to adopt different pieces of furniture, art and what nots by the end of five days everything had found a new home and it was time to sweep the floor and turn off the lights. 

The original blog talked more about seeing what looks like a familiar face but not knowing if it is really someone you knew or just someone who looks like someone you knew long ago.  When I am in Baltimore there are so many familiar sites, sounds and accents.  On Tuesday while I was waiting for a potential buyer for the remainder of the furniture I went over to Starbucks on Charles Street in an area where several girls from my high school had lived.  I had been thinking about one woman in particular who I knew from Facebook had moved  back to the area and wondered what she was doing now.  So it was probably just those thoughts that made me think that a woman standing at the bar reading a magazine might be just that person.  I haven't seen her in more than 40 years and we weren't best friends to start with but I thought that if she looked my way I might offer a smile and ask if she was Bonnie.  Despite my super power staring she never looked up, in fact she seemed determined to not look up.  Maybe she caught sight of me coming in and had no escape plan or maybe I am just too paranoid.  On the full disclosure side I have to admit I looked pretty scruffy.  My hair was back with a hairband, I had on jeans, an oversize shirt and sneakers.  Give me a break I had been cleaning and sorting - dusty work.

If you are happy and you know it clap your hands

It has been a long two weeks.  It started out happy - my sister-in-law married a great guy and they threw a fabulouso party.  On the way up I got to have dinner with my Mom and snag a Coach purse at the outlet mall across the bridge.  All in all - perfect!  Until I got the call that my Aunt had died.

I wrote about my Aunt in my last blog - my memories of her as an aunt and a woman.  The real lesson that I came away with was - when you are happy share it, roll it around on your tongue like a perfect chocolate, wallow in it.  When you are sad, admit it, mourn when it is time to mourn, cry when you have a boo boo, ache when your heart breaks.  But when you are mad, hurt, insulted - talk about it to the ones you love.  Even if they aren't the one's who caused it - let it go.  You only have so much room in your little heart don't clutter it with old hurts, real or imagined.  Every hurt you care for and feed takes away time and energy from what you really want to do - stock up on kisses, kindnesses, warm breezes. I will guarantee you - 100% that the hurt you are nurturing and caring for, feeding and keeping stoked, the other person has no idea that it is that important.  Because most times they think that if it was that important and you loved them you would have wanted to talk it out. 

Tonight I am opening my hands, letting go, and taking back all of my good memories.  I don't have the energy any more to be angry.  And if truth be told, what do I have to be angry about.

On to sweet sticky kisses from the wee tots and careful hugs from the "guys". 

Dear Dad

Wednesday was Dad's birthday. It fell in the middle of a hectic week planning his sister's funeral. My Aunt Jane was a a "Maiden Lady" of 89 years of age. She has always been an enigma to everyone who loved her.

She died on her own terms, alone neatly covered in her childhood single bed with no fanfare. Her next door neighbor knew that they could set their watch by the time she came to the door to get her Baltimore Sun and New York Times. When she did not appear for the second day they called the apartment management, setting in motion a chain of events that found her dead in her bed. For those of us left behind it was our greatest fear that she would die alone. For her she died on her own terms, in her own bed, her apartment clean, her important papers out to be found. Tomorrow we will all gather to pray for her soul and then go with Mom to visit Dad.

Dad, what I want to tell you is we did the right thing in the face of turmoil. We were there to support Mom, we made sure Aunt Jane had the right wake, we told stories about memories from Woodlawn Road and Grandmother and Pop Shaw. I told stories about my childhood Aunt who wore silk and perfume. Who took me to the Walter's gallery. Matt, David, Pacey and Carol were there to share memories.

I am sure it confused the funeral home that were so many Benson women there. Pacey, Carol, and I all use our maiden names. I want you to know that we still hear your voice that no matter the circumstances we should always do the right and honorable thing. And you are right I will sleep peacefully.

Aunt Jane, I wish all of the cousins and great cousins knew you like I did. But if I learn nothing else from this time it will be to laugh more freely, to dare to be wrong more often because chances are I might be right and that accepting help doesn't diminish me but creates threads of links between me and the world. I want my wake to be a party with silly stories of moments shared and I need to start now creating those opportunities. Good-by Aunt Jane, I wish you peace and happiness as you cross the rainbow bridge.

Vegas

Let me start by saying I actually like Vegas.  I don't gamble so I am not sure Vegas likes me, but it is truly a play ground of excess - inside and on the facades of the resorts.  No where else will I see such vibrant colors, exoctic flowers, and sweet little things in little tiny dresses wearing 4 inch heels - who can really walk on them!  I can sit in the bar for hours and imagine the stories that are passing by my table.  There are the exoctic women and and the just drug in from the hills with worn out boots, straggly hair and a cigarette ready to be lit as soon as he sits down at the slot machine. 

This is the end of Chinese New Year and the resort we are staying in has a sister resort in Macau and has attracted bus loads of tourists celebrating the New Year.  The resort is all dressed up in red and gold with a 35 foot dragon leading the way in from the lobby to the casino.  Everywhere you look it is red and gold, even the orange trees have little red present envelopes hanging on ribbons.  The craps tables are the busiest with men in suits, sport shirts, and the ever present black tee shirt with tight black jeans.  It sounds like a meeeting of the UN when you walk past. 

This is a new fairly high end resort complete with a Ferrari dealer in the Racing wing.  They took over the old Sands resort and golf course and expanded into a resort with a high end tower, and ultra high end tower and then the golf villas.  The two shopping esplanade's - one with the down scale hipper Channel store, the other with the - well you get the picture.  I have only walked past all of the bright shiny jewels and baubles, handbags, glittery shoes and impossibly small dresses wondering what road I would have had to take to arrive here ready to shop at any age.

I do think they have Disney beat for "oh my god you want what for a bottle of water?"  I love Fuji water but $8?  My breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, whole wheat toast and coffee was $32 - this is like New York.  True - it is probably cheaper than New York but WOW.  Since I have to get showered, dressed and face painted to have breakfast anywhere, I am now strolling across the street to my standby Starbucks and saving my pennies for amazing dinners. 


From the window to the dessert

Back to the heart of the glitz  -- no other city can reinvent itself on such a regular basis.  Down come old buildings, leaving a sand lot ready for the next new thing.  When you move away from the resorts, it quickly becomes one story buildings frequently in need of a facelift.  Miles of housing stretch out towards the hills and mesas.  That is the end of my planner thoughts! 


The resort oasis


You know you are out of town when you are here!

Racing down the aisles of the casino

When we go on vacation to an island, Bruce's favorite thing to do is go jet skiing.  If the water isn't too rough I usually go with him.  We aren't in the islands, we are in Vegas.  No large bodies of water nearby.  So this is his alternate jet ski! 

Most of you know that he fell in December and one of his legs is still immobilized with a brace.  He can limp around but any distances are exhausting,so we arranged for wheel chairs to meet us along the trip.  The hotel wheel chair left a lot to be desired and I could not push it over the thick carpet in all the hallways and casino.  After much dithering he agreed to rent a scooter.  For someone who is used to having both his legs work, this seemed like an affront to his dignity, but being the great guy he is, he took one for the sake of his wife's back.  It has worked great getting him from place to place.  It was the hit of the party when we first got together with the conference group, so much so a few of the crazier people in sales rented two that night and raced around the hallways.  I would like to think it was sympathy for him, but I think it was Vegas craziness. 

Last night was the ultimate test, we were going to dinner two blocks away at the Mirage.  Despite all of the promises of the staff when it came time to get a cab that would actually take the scooter there was much hemming and hawing.  So we set out on foot and scooter.  Congratulations Vegas!  It really is a walkable city.  There are bridges over the busiest intersections with an elevator (and escalator) up and down to get you to the other side.  We followed the door man's directions on the way over but freelanced on the way back.  The way over was easier, coming back we segued through the Palazzo resort with a little help from a maintenance man on the patio and a security guard in the casino.  The maintenance man gets double thank you's - he stopped what he was doing, told another co-worker where he was going, parked his decorated trash can and walked us far enough into the casino to see where our next stop would be.  Vegas and the resorts are doing a great job with hospitality training. 

Bruce has named his ride Catherine in honor of CSI Las Vegas, she has not let him down so far but I know he will be glad to be home with only his personal wheel chair for extended trips.  Friday we will go and get his handicapped placard.  His plan is to be driving himself by the weekend.  As Mom would say, when you are a hammer - everything looks like a nail, and he is determined to get some more independence.  Not that I blame him.  This has been a little more togetherness than we have ever enjoyed!