A total eclipse and a blog

While millions of people waited with their special glasses to watch the total eclipse of the sun today, I sat on my back porch thinking about one of my favorite childhood TV shows, "Family Affair."

To be specific, the Tidal Wave episode.

Uncle Bill sits on the couch with his twin niece and nephew, Buffy and Jody, waiting for a rumored tidal wave to hit New York City.

The young twins are scared that the tidal wave will hit their New York apartment building and wash them away to sea. 

(Via the Hudson River?  I never understood that part.  Also, note to self.  Remind my kids who live in NYC of potential tidal waves.)

Back to the story.

Suddenly, the wind rattles the windows and glass breaks.

It's no big deal.  Just Mr French, the butler, who accidentally breaks a glass in the kitchen.

As my husband and I anxiously awaited the total eclipse, I felt a lot like Buffy and Jody. (Except I don't have a butler and an eclipse isn't devastating like a tidal wave)

But supposedly, odd things would happen causing some angst.

The temperature would drop, my dog would act oddly and birds and other wildlife would think night time was approaching and respond accordingly.  

Since we failed to buy special viewing glasses, we could only participate from the covered porch.

Excitedly, we headed out around 1:15 pm to sit and wait.

We put the dog inside to ensure he didn't get spooked and run away or accidentally look up at the sun.

Scratch that, the dog went inside on his own accord because it was hot and he doesn't like the heat. 

The dog had the right idea.  I found myself waiting for the moon to cool me off.  

The birds were chirping but it sounded like their typical daytime song. 

I couldn't wait to hear the change to their evening song but wondered if I would actually notice the difference.  

At 1:40 pm, still no changes not even with the heat.

(My mind drifted back to the tidal wave episode.  Why wasn't big sister Sissy home during such a bad storm.  These are the details that plagued me as a child and oddly still do.)

Before I knew it, an hour had passed and so had the moon.

We didn't see Bailey's Beads.  We didn't see the snakes dancing on the ground.  We didn't even hear the birds change their tune.

In my backyard, the eclipse simply made a sunny day turn cloudy while the temperature remained as hot as ever.

Again, I felt a bit like Buffy and Jody since nothing ever happened.

I've already marveled at the pictures shared by my friends who experienced it and I watched daylight turn to darkness via the news coverage down south.

I would have loved to have seen it.

On a brighter note, I found myself writing on "Musings, Morals and Bees."

Interestingly, today was not only the total eclipse of the sun, the day marks one full year since I've written a blog.

A full year.  A total eclipse. Seems cosmic.

If only I could tie it all together with an episode of "Family Affair."

But all I can think of is when Buffy lost Mrs Beasley, her doll that looked like an old lady. (Which they sold in the stores but I never wanted.  I only wanted young, pretty dolls.)

I guess I "lost" motivation to write for a year.

At least Buffy found Mrs Beasley in a matter of days.

Hopefully I won't wait until April 8, 2024 to write again.

But, if I do and I'm motivated by an eclipse, I hope I will have found the special viewing glasses by then.

August 21, 2017: A total eclipse of the sun and a blog.
Thanks to my happy friend Heidi for the amazing personalized Etch-A-Sketch! I love it!

Choose amazing

I have a problem.

When it's extremely hot outside, I become a repeater.

The phrasing may vary from "It's hot," "It's so hot out here," to "I'm hot," but one thing's for sure, it's always repeated.

Last weekend the temperatures soared.  With the heat index, at times it felt like 105 degrees.

Even our friends who were visiting from South Carolina thought it was hot and that's saying something when you're from South Carolina.

Unfortunately, I couldn't stop myself from complaining and repeating since we spent most of the weekend outdoors.

I had to be annoying our guests.  I know I was annoying myself. And then, I remembered a story.

Recently, I noticed a friend wearing a "hair tie" on his wrist.

Since he has more of a buzz cut than enough hair for a man bun, I figured he was holding on to it for his wife.

Later he explained that the coated rubber band served a purpose.

Every time he has a negative thought, he pops the band against his wrist to "snap out of it."

As the blistering sun beat on my face, I considered putting a hair tie around my wrist to snap myself every time I moaned, "It's hot."

But, I quickly realized my wrists would become raw and bloody. And when it comes to pain, I'm also a repeater and no one would have wanted to hear about that.

So I devised a new plan focusing on positivity.

Every time I said something about the heat, I replaced the word "hot" with "amazing."

Suddenly, I was repeating, "It's an amazing day!" "It's amazing out here." "What an amazing day."

Before I knew it, my outlook changed.

Just using the word "amazing" made me smile.

Even though I continued to repeat myself, at least I sounded positive.

From now on, I will try to remind myself that anything can be amazing... sitting in traffic, a long line at the grocery store, bad service at a restaurant and any extreme weather.

I've read that the east coast will be colder than usual this winter.

Surely, my new found coping method will come in handy when it arrives.

I guess I can say, I'm looking forward to one amazing winter and I repeat... amazing.

What an amazing day at the baseball game! Only 105 degrees!

Same time, same feeling

I wonder when the sight of them won't make me sad.

This time of year, I run into them often and every time I do, my heart drops.

Today, I watched the two of them smiling and laughing together as they walked through the shopping center parking lot.

After they put their purchases in her trunk, she gave him a hug goodbye since they had arrived in separate cars.

The hug was something I hadn't seen before.

As I passed them, I couldn't resist letting them know how I felt.

I rolled down my window and said, "You two have to stop breaking my heart."

"I'm sneaking in hugs while I can," she said.

I certainly understood that.

Although I didn't actually know them, I knew exactly who they were.

A mother and her son preparing for him to leave for college.

Their purchases gave them away, a collegiate comforter, a bed topper and a trash can shaped like a basketball hoop.

My son and I had bought similar things when we were doing the same thing.

As I drove away, I felt a lump in my throat.

Six years after college shopping with my son, I'm crying at the stoplight.

When my son graduated two years ago, he moved to New York City.

After 23 years, our house was permanently child free.

Even though I've adjusted to the so-called "empty nest" and love my life with my husband, I still miss my children.

Of course, they come home to visit for long weekends and holidays.

But that's just it.

It's a visit.

When they're home, life as we knew it returns.

Coffee on the back porch, dinner around the kitchen table, chocolate chip cookies made from a refrigerated roll, lounging around the family room.

Just "breathing each other's oxygen," I like to joke.

For a few days, I get my old job back. I am a mom taking care of my children.

I sleep soundly through the night knowing my family is under one roof.

It never lasts long enough.

Maybe one day I will look at a mother and son shopping for college and think, I'm glad that's not me.

But not yet.

Maybe not ever.

Quite honestly, I love the memory despite the tears.

I love all of the memories.

To my children I say, thank you for coming home when you can and for warmly welcoming us when we visit.

To my husband I say, isn't it great we have the dog!

Those were the days

One fun parking attendant

Between my eyes and my brain, I stay entertained.

Yesterday, I saw a parking lot with a sign that said, "Parking by Permit Only."

However, my eyes saw something far more fun!

I laughed as my brain interpreted the sign, "Parking by Kermit Only."

Of course, the sign said, "permit."

But just imagine...

Parking for Green cars only!

A recipe for laughter

When it comes to cooking, I'm far from a fancy chef.

I've always had trouble following recipes due to my reading comprehension problems.

Or, maybe it's just because I'm a lazy reader.

Either way, I steer clear from complicated recipes and stick to making easy dishes that seem as though I've cooked up something special.

The other day, a friend of mine came over for lunch.

At the last minute, I decided to make a quick chicken salad using a pre-cooked rotisserie chicken.

I mixed the chicken, mayo, celery and salt and pepper.

And, voila!

A chicken salad lunch worthy of a follow up text from my friend saying she wanted my recipe.

I felt like a snappy, gourmet chef with my "chic" salad.

A day later, my husband was getting ready to make a chicken sandwich with the leftover rotisserie chicken.

"I'm happy to make you a chicken salad sandwich," I said.  "My friend wanted the recipe," I bragged.

Proudly, I added, "She even referred to it as 'chic' and it was just chicken, mayo and celery."

That's when it hit me and I burst out laughing.

I grabbed my phone to re-read the text from her.

This is what she said:

"Thanks for lunch. I need your chic salad recipe."

And, I responded:

"Haha, not so chic. Got a cooked chicken from the grocery store and added celery and mayo. Super chic!"

No wonder her followup text message was one of those emoticons with a crazy eye and the tongue sticking out as if my response was a little nutty.

As I read her comment carefully, it wasn't "chic" as in elegant and sophisticated.

It was "chic" as in the plain, old abbreviation for chicken.

Moral of my story:

Laugh at yourself.  Even at your flaws. You will always have something to make you smile.

A chic chic!

"Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves, for they shall never cease to be amused." - unknown

Feeling like a kid on my birthday

For as long as I can remember, I've loved telling people my birthday.

Short of putting it on a billboard (or on a banner behind a small airplane), I make sure I announce its arrival to everyone I know.

Honestly, I'm not looking for gifts. I'm not even expecting cards. (Baked goods maybe.)

But when August 15th rolls around, I simply want friends to stop and think, "Oh, yea! Today is Nancy's birthday." 

My constant reminding has paid off. 

Most of my friends can tell you my birthday without hesitation. Even friends I haven't seen in years can recall the date.

And, even if they don't call or write, I know when I wake up on my birthday, they are thinking of me.

That's all I've ever wanted.

Until this year.

This year, I'll admit I was hoping for something.

Expecting rather.

When I turned on my phone first thing in the morning, I anxiously went to Facebook.

Surely some night owl, well-wisher had posted "Happy Birthday!" at 12:01 a.m. and I couldn't wait to read it as well as all the other messages that I envisioned flooding in.

But, not one message.

Suddenly, I felt like a disappointed kid. Childhood memories of being unpopular came to mind.

Everybody gets Facebook Birthday messages. Why not me?

The feelings of my 10-year-old self didn't feel good.  I much prefer the feelings of my grown-up self who just imagines people remembering my birthday!

An hour went by and I checked again.

Still, nothing.

Since I was visiting a friend, I felt rude constantly checking my phone but I couldn't resist.

Finally, my friend asked, "Nancy, why don't you have your birthday posted on your Facebook page?"

Like a kid, I rushed to check my settings.

Wrong!

Like a mother who has no idea how to do anything on my phone, I texted my son for help.

When he didn't respond fast enough, that's when, like a kid, I quickly went to my settings.

My hands were almost shaking in my haste. My friend pointed out the lock icon on my birthday.

That's it! My birthday wasn't "public."

Then I remembered.

Like an adult, I decided not to post my birthday when I set up my Facebook page for fear someone would steal my identity.

But, to heck with my identity, I wanted my Facebook birthday messages so I quickly corrected it.

Within minutes, my first two Birthday wishes appeared (thanks Travis and Shelley).

As the day went on, more and more wishes popped up (thanks Mark Zuckerberg and all of my wonderful Facebook friends).

Next year, I hope I can act my age. Maybe I'll wait until the end of the day to read my wishes all at one time.

Or maybe, I'll delete my birthday all together and enjoy my birthday wishes in my imagination.

Then again, maybe I'll stare at my phone all day and go one step further and compare the number of "Birthday wishes" I get with someone else on Facebook who has more than me and sulk like a kid.

Sure hope not.

Where oh where are my birthday messages?
Oh where oh where can they be?

The Art of Doing Nothing

Years ago, my husband gave me a small gift book entitled, "The Art of Doing Nothing."

When I read the cover, I smiled but felt a bit confused given the fact that I epitomized the title.

In fact, I could have written it.

When I opened the book, I saw words.  Lots and lots of words. The mere sight of chapter after chapter explaining how to "do nothing" caused me to close the book and never open it again.

Don't get me wrong. I love the book and the fact that it reminded him of me.

To this day, I like seeing it sitting there looking cute on the end table in our sunroom.

But, a book about doing nothing should simply have short phrases. Blank pages, maybe. Perhaps, just pictures of people doing nothing. Clearly, not long explanations about how to do it.

It's just not that complicated.

But then again, maybe it is for people who aren't experts like me.

So many people have a problem with doing nothing. They feel bored or guilty sitting around not accomplishing anything.

They are the types that simply, "have to be doing something."

I, on the other hand, am excellent at sitting quietly doing nothing.

Sure, my brain is still working.

Well, sometimes.

As I sit silently, I think about what I need at the grocery store. Or, ponder what I should be doing.

Other times, I look out the window and find it amusing how much green I see or stare at my dog and admire how cute he is.

Occasionally, I start planning my daughter's wedding (even though she isn't currently dating anyone) or I reminisce about how much fun we had at the beach at the beginning of the summer.

But, sometimes, I simply sit.

I suppose you could call it an art.

But, really it's nothing.

You are the cutest dog in the whole wide world!
and
To my dear husband, thank you for not giving me the book,
"Get up and do something, why don't ya?