Weeeell, After what felt like a near death experience with the flu which I thought I’d never get over, I did and none too soon because my oldest “child” was graduating college at 51 years of age!!
Tina got married at 17,
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and traveled with her hubby some. Knowing he would one day inherit the bicycle business started by his father, he learned German and Italian, since those were the primary manufacturing locations of their products. So, of course they got to go to Europe several times. Not having children yet, she was able to accompany him on these trips. For some time, we never thought she’d ever start her family.
When she was in her late 20’s, the business was sold and they did begin their family. At age 29 her firstborn child was born, on the same date my eldest boy was born. After that came son number two…
and sometime after that came son number three. It appeared that once the ball started to roll, they couldn’t get it stopped. Suddenly, she found herself pregnant once again. I asked her if she wished for a girl, but she said, No! “B—‘s only make boys, (her brother in law has four boys) besides if I had a girl, I don’t know what I’d do with her, I know what to do with boys.” Guess what?
She had a girl.
Unfortunately, it didn’t go well for her. Postpartum depression set in and sadly ruined the momentous occasion. When she confided in me how she believed she should be happy, but wasn’t, I suggested she see her doctor. Fortunately, I wasn’t the first person to tell her that. Her mid-wife gave her a referral and in time, she improved.
By now she was 38.
Five years ago, she decided to finish school and go to college. I shouldn’t have been surprised that she chose nursing given her own previous experience, but I was. Her whole life, she had been more into holistic healing and the organic approach to health. Yet nursing it was.
Little by little other pieces as to why have fallen into place, giving me clues as to how she came to her decision.
You see her goal is to eventually become a travel nurse. Her kids are all but gone and she’s seen the need in her travels. She’d been to Nepal for a mission trip some years back, so yes, there is definitely a need. She just returned from Tahiti with her father (a graduation gift) and she was told there was a need there. There’s always a need, regardless of her age anywhere in the world.
First came the pinning and everyone was there. Little Ally was in a wheelchair and on pain meds still since her trampoline accident had just occurred a few days earlier.
With her family’s support she completed her schooling, so of course her family was thereto support and cheer her on, with the exception of one brother. He came out earlier for his grandfather’s funeral, which took place during Spring break while his wife was on hers from teaching. As foster parents, getting away doesn’t come easy, so it was the best they could do. He did bring his oldest son with him, so it was a good visit.
We get to meet her classmates and some “bestie’s” she made while there. She made a point of not giving away her age at first, not that it ended up mattering. They loved her.
And finally graduation day:
And more family –
And then it finished off with a party at her house, which for some reason was just us… at first. It seems the graduates make a circuit run of all their friends and stopped in later. For some reason, probably because it was way past my bedtime, I didn’t get pictures. Oooops! Yea!!! She graduated with honors and much thanks to the whole family for their support.
A long time ago, too many to count, I lost my first husband to the other woman. It was sad and I was miserable but I got over it.
I moved on far quicker than I imagined I could. How and why?
Well… for one, it was the third time. In my mind, I’d reasoned that a man that strays is not a man worth crying over. If you take him back (and I did twice before) then he’ll continue to stray. What incentive is there for him to remain faithful if you keep taking him back? Is it worth the heartache? Not at all. Besides, I had two daughters, what kind of message would that be sending them?
So, I moved on and was eventually okay with it.
Then I married a younger man and he had women pal friends. Oh boy! They were friends before I came along, so why worry about them. I found it incredible that there was not more to their relationships. When he and I started dating, he talked of them often, it was always “Jenny” this or “Pam” that. So, of course, I thought perhaps there’s more there than I realize? Hmmmm.
Jenny was the pretty one and his “favorite” climbing buddy. She was always available to go on trips with him and he loved having someone to climb with. On occasion it puzzled him that her husband had no problem with her gallivanting off alone with a single guy. In the early stages of our relationship when we were just friends, I ignored any speculation. Easy peasy. Not my problem.
One summer, I took a climbing trip with my rock-climbing buddies and he went trekking with Jenny and I thought perhaps Pam, another one of his regular climbing partners, but he reminded me how the two women didn’t get along so it wasn’t likely they’d pair up with him. Could it have been jealousy? No telling. It was kind of funny actually.
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In the meantime, my guys, ( I was with three) helped me set up my tent on a mound not far from theirs so they could keep an eye out for me while giving me some privacy. I loved it. I know little about my BF’s trip, but it didn’t matter. We were after all only dating then.
Off track for a moment here. Now, for those of you unfamiliar with climbing in general, let me inform you that not all climbing is technical, meaning requiring ropes and harness. In fact climbing routes have numerical classifications depending on their difficulty, so when I refer to “rock” climbing, then I’m letting you know it is more difficult or as some say “technical” which requires rope and harness pretty much all the time, except for the brave soul, and there are some who free climb regardless of it’s difficulty, but that’s not me. The hardest climb I ever did was a 5.10a (US) which I thought pretty tough, but for a more experienced climber, probably not. When I refer to climbing fourteener’s, I mean peaks of over 14,000 feet in altitude, these may or may not require ropes at all, although it is possible. In fact, there are peaks of less than 14,000 feet, such as the Trinities in Colorado where you’d like to at least have the option of using ropes if necessary, which some in our group did. Later I questioned my own sanity for not having been one of them. Most guidebooks will tell you if there is a probability of needing them depending on your own caliber of expertise. There are some heights and areas that although not necessarily difficult are so exposed that they can make you feel a bit woozy, so it then becomes more of a precaution than a necessity. BTW, For me exposed means straight down or with very little to break your fall, should you fall. In cases like that you could get “sewing machine leg” which means your legs tremble uncontrollably from the tension and trepidation of taking the next step. That can be especially true on lateral climbs but not so much on the vertical ones. It somehow feels different.
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Back on track. As our relationship progressed, my BF and I began going on trips together with his friends. Mine were not backpacking climbers, so it was just me that migrated to the mountain climbing group.
I was a greenhorn when it came to this distance climbing. While rock climbing required leg and arm strength with enough stamina to hike into the climbing area, climbing 14ner’s required more long distance stamina and in rare occasions, decent technical knowledge. Usually in rock climbing, the places I went to required minimal trekking in and most areas, you could practically just drive up to get to them, like the City of Rocks in Idaho.
Climbing 14ner’s was tough in a different way. I was always out of breath from the altitude… until someone cued me in on a trick. But before I learned it, these new group of “friends” frequently left me in the dust while they practically ran up the mountain, found a spot to take a break and wait for me to catch up. As soon as I’d get there, they’d put on their packs, wait a couple of minutes for me to take a swallow of water and maybe, if I was lucky, I’d get a bite of a granola bar before they’d be ready to head out again. I learned quickly not to bother sitting down because as soon as I sat down they’d be up, which was just as well because my legs would start congealing and it would be all I could do to get moving again if I sat too long. Fortunately, I did get stronger. But that was at first and boy did Jenny enjoy being the queen bee in those early days.
Even my BF (hubby) didn’t wait for me. I remember half the time wondering why he was my BF. It pissed me off because he’d be of with “her” or “them” and I was struggling behind. I’d have to remind myself how I grew up at sea level and I was considerably older learning all new stuff to do. (I’m nearly 50 in those pictures above) It was all new to me so I was determined and at the end of the day I was glad of it. I really loved getting to the top of peaks and seeing God’s creations in all their magnificent glory. Not to mention testing my own strengths and tenacity. Getting left behind while Jenny, him and the rest of the gang were way ahead was quite motivating as well.
On one of the earlier camp outs, Jenny and I were off by ourselves and she tells me how she just can’t understand how he could fall for someone like me. (Bitch!) Without malice, I ask what she meant by that. Her response, was… “you’re old-er”.. . Yes, that can’t be denied I am years older but she didn’t know how much older so her stating it cued me in on how she felt about him and how I was the interloper.
I tell my BF and being a guy, a rock could land on his head and he’d never notice, but he laughed and said, “No way, we’re just friends. We both just like to climb.”
Then he adds, “besides, she’s married.”
No matter, I kept my eye on her because although Pam was a possibility, as a single woman, she never made any claims or try to mark her territory.
So, I used the principle of keeping your enemies closer and asked Jenny to go climbing on a trip my BF had done several times before and that she had failed on two other occasions, so it was good chance for me to have a partner and her to try again. Gladstone sits between and near Mt. Wilson and Wilson Peak. It pretty much required an early morning start, so like at about 3 am I’m up and a little later, pick her up. Soon we are headed out from home and arriving as early as possible and starting the actual climb at daybreak.
We did Wilson Peak first then proceeded to head up Gladstone. Unfortunately, it started snowing about then. At first lightly and then suddenly humongous flakes begin coming down quickly. It was an early autumn snow which was surprisingly wet, so note the foreground in the picture and the rocky ridge? Well compound that with wet snow that because of the cold will freeze. We get through about a third of the way and each step becomes progressively more tenuous. I suggest we turn back. She says no, “she’s failed twice before and just can’t turn away again.” We went on a bit further until the snowfall escalated. In just a few minutes the places we’d passed earlier were completely white. It was my first attempt and though I felt for her, I wanted to see another day and wouldn’t continue. Plus each step we took became slipperier as we progressed. Getting there was possible, but the return? When we turned around to come back, we both looked up to see what looked like giant alien stick figures materializing on the east face of the saddle where the snow had collected, across from Mt. Wilson. It was like a sign from God.
As it turns out, we barely made it to this old mining shack we’d passed going up the mountain and took refuge there. It was still far from our vehicle, but until it abated some, it was a safe haven. We worried it wouldn’t stop and we’d be stranded there overnight and I made calculations of what we had in our packs that could get us through the night. In light of that we made the decision to go for it. As it was, it was dark when we got off the mountain (remember, we started out initially at 3 am) Sadly, it would be midnight before we drug our sorry bodies home.
I didn’t climb with her again. Without sounding sexist, I observed that the climbers with more sense were generally guys and I trusted my hubby’s judgement best of all. Some time later Jenny, would get a divorce and surprisingly, she did drop hints here and there which confirmed what I’d said. Was he disappointed? I asked. Had she been free, would he have given her a second thought? He was honest and said he didn’t know. The truth is, it was actually Pam he’d been more attracted to, but only because she was always up for a trip, other than that, he didn’t find her that attractive and she was so dang radical that he’d pretty much nixed her out as well. As for my queries about Jenny’s climbing passion being more akin to his? He said “No”, she wasn’t that great. Yes, sure she liked to go out but he questioned her motivation because, in retrospect there were times when she went on climbs with him that she failed the ascents, bailing halfway up. Her reasons were complaints of nausea and headaches, which to be honest, if you don’t adequately hydrate at those altitudes, it can be a problem. As for abandoning climbs? Well, I too, abandoned climbs before and in both instances I was with a singular other woman and both times it snowed heavily. I’d also heard stories my BF told me of times he should have and didn’t and how it could have been fatal. Then there were the news stories of people getting caught in blizzards and ending up dead or lost for days. It happens.
As for Jenny, I felt sorry for her because even though she remarried, it didn’t work out well for her that time either. From then on out, she climbed less and less but then so did we. Age has a way of catching up to us, but for as much older as I was than they, I outlasted them all.
Oh, as for the trick I learned to survive the altitude and breathe easier?
I was getting all these “likes” and an unexplainable “Huh?” from BF for the above Title (comment) posted five days ago and I didn’t know I’d written it.
Some time ago I’d replied to Badfish on someone else’s post and didn’t realize that I’d done so as a “post”, so here I am looking at all these likes and wondering why the reaction to my reply. It wasn’t that interesting. Really.
Now, I also know why Badfish responded as he did…
4 thoughts on “Yes, they Do over near Tucson AZ – Badfish”
I guess the truth is not everyone reads our blogs as well as we imagine they do ( I notice that with me, the ones I read most often are ones that don’t arrive in multiples on any given day, it’s just too hard to keep up with three or four from the same source.)
I’m sure some of my readers were wondering what the hell I might have been smoking when I wrote the headline and not following it with anything. They probably had no clue nor understood what this one was all about. Thank you for indulging me.
The truth is, it proves that unless we have a catchy title that draws one in for the read or are exceptional writers, like Badfish, we may not get our blogs read all the time.
Badfish and I go back a very long way as some of you may already be aware and I must admit his blogs are exceptional and few, which is a good thing. It gives me a chance to look forward to the next savory dish.We have, now and again, had a great deal of fun bantering and alluding to our relationship in our blogs. Why not, what are friends for?
However the above comment was mis-written and one that I later on corrected and sent, but only now discovered, never realizing or knowing the reason he hadn’t received it in the first place was that I’d “blogged” it in a title instead. (I did later resend it as you can see above)
Actually, the only thing that existed prior to me adding this little blurb was just the title.
By the way, the title was in response to his query about ostrich farms and where one is, in Tucson, AZ… at the base of Picacho Peak.
I know a great deal is happening in the world today. Attitudes are changing, some good, some not so good.
In this mash of over stimulation and feeding of opinion, from every form of media and friends, how do we get the whole picture? The TRUE picture?
Truth is relative, that’s a given truth be told. So much of what we believe is influenced by those around us, our friends, neighbors, educators, religion (if we attend), media and if we read, books. Sadly most of it comes from a combination of media and peer pressure.
Peer pressure is something we just can’t seem to avoid. We’re like cattle or perhaps sheep off to slaughter. Friends are an integral part of living and heaven forbid we disappoint friends. So that leaves MEDIA. MEDIA is the most damaging. TV especially because more people watch TV than listen to radio, in periodicals or the daily paper. Why people believe what they hear on TV as gospel is beyond me. Most of it is “he said, she said” anyway.
I recall an interview a few years back of an actor who had for several seasons or perhaps years, had played a villain on a long running soap opera. He said in the interview, how surprised he was at the number of people believed it was for real. He was frequently being chastised on the street for being so bad. One day, he says, a woman literally came up to him from out of the blue and hit him with her purse. The audience of course laughed, but what a sad commentary of how “our” belief system is influenced. That’s why commercials work and why certain ones are aired at certain times and channels for a specific target audience. That’s also how our children’s minds get formed without us even being aware. That’s how it is though.
How many people rely on media for their information?
TV news anchors and various talk shows constantly skew their information and cut and paste to present information to fit their own agenda. Now social media is in the mix and how even more impactive that has become. Because now it’s the man on the street, showing us “live” as to what is going on.
Tell me, has anyone stopped to think how it is that someone just “happened” to see and shoot something as it unfolds from beginning to end and in it’s entirety without prejudice? Who on earth is ready to roll all the time? It’s hardly likely unless the event was contrived in the first place. Think about that. And the public believes it? Incredible. Generally if you see something happen, it takes more than a few seconds to get your camera rolling and by then you probably missed a good chunk of important information. It’s hard enough to get a good reel when you plan to shoot it. Trust me.
Low tolerance, high tolerance. It all goes awry when it comes to personal beliefs. For example, someone may say they are tolerant of this or that and appear for all practical purposes to be so until someone who has an opposing ideology attempts to present theirs. Suddenly their “tolerance” is out the window. What it really boils down to is so and so has no right to their voice if it conflicts with mine. In other words mine is right, theirs is wrong. Period.
It’s human nature to hear what you want to hear and if you dislike someone you may be even more inclined to isolate the incriminating or what you want or need to indict them. Sometimes people don’t bother listening or hearing the whole message. Oh, but wait! Perhaps the whole message wasn’t shared, just a little this and that. Perhaps some media power that be edited it to discredit one or uplift another. How would you know?
There’s no doubt that if we want the truth, we have to go hunting for it and like hunting, it takes work and patience to find truth behind the stories that are being told.
I understand we are all under time restrictions, but do your best.
If you don’t take care, what you see is not necessarily what you’re gonna get. You could be in for a surprise.
We as the human race can be so foolish but for this country’s sake, lets not be. Our future depends on it.
I was just watching a video clip of a young man and girl on you tube. It was the typical, Simon Cowle makes a face or tweaks his mouth in reservation, judging them. If you look at the faces in the audience, you see they too have made a determination about this couple.
Case in point. You have to see this.
You see what I mean?
Later, we see this:
We, as people make snap judgments on everything we see or hear. We often times don’t wait to get the full picture. I do it all the time and I generally hate myself for it afterward.
We are often hardest on one another. Judging. Always judging.
If someone walks out of the john with toilet paper trailing behind them, we tend to snicker or let it be, we do nothing to rescue them. Mind you, I didn’t let that pass, but did notice many who did.
If someone looks different, smells different, is fat, has too many tats, hair too long, varied in color or they look tattered, dirty or perhaps their mascara or lipstick is smeared or worse yet there’s a good looking guy with a big booger in his nose. What do we do? Do we tend to turn away and think, yuck!?
At that moment when the young woman came out of the ladies room trailing tissue, I ran up to her from behind and blocked the view as best I could and tapped her on the shoulder and said, “Stop! You are trailing tissue and your skirt is up!” Though embarrassed, she hadn’t gone far and was so very grateful. I had rescued her.
I remember feeling like a hero. The thing of it is, she was a large girl with poor posture and sadly dressed. She had all the makings of a joke, the kid in school that everyone would make fun of, yet something inside me didn’t hesitate. I’m sure she may even have had the same level of confidence of Jonathan.
Yeah, yeah. While it may appear I pat myself on the back, I don’t.
There have been times, I would have wanted someone to tell me if something was askew, instead of me finding out hours later. There have been many a time I was not the rescuer.
I’m sure we all recall moments in time where we fell short.
Like the young kids above, sometimes people need “rescuing” in different ways. Sometimes, they just need a helping hand.
The story above is a lesson to us all and in many ways. On the surface it’s one of friendship and loyalty true, but it’s more than even that. At least to me it is.
At first he’d been judged and then she was judged.
Sometimes I think in rescuing others, we rescue ourselves. In the end they went their separate ways amicably two years later. For a time though they needed that bond they found in each other to give them each the lift needed to work independently. He had time for the stigma of his size to pass. As Jonathan and Charlotte’s confidence level improved, they were both finally free to explore their talent, each in their own way. Both are doing extremely well on their own now.
Sometimes, if you see a friend in need, or if someone reaches out, it doesn’t have to be forever but only for a time. You never know what impact you might make on someone’s life, but especially your own for having been there.
I once had someone tell me that the good deed doers are in it for themselves, for how it makes them feel to do it. Perhaps. I can’t deny, it does feel good to help someone but what harm is there in that?
As for the booger.
It was me who didn’t tell the good looking guy he had a booger in his nose.
We were in high school. Granted he’d been surfing earlier and water tends to do that, but I thought he should know that. I remember him flirting and smiling and I wouldn’t give him the time of day. All I saw was the booger. Besides that, it seemed that all he ever did or cared about was surfing. Out of high school, he went on to be a fireman. It turns out he wasn’t a loser. While fighting fires, he got a contractors license and built some very nice homes in California. Later he would move to Hawaii with his wife, a former cheerleader which surprised everyone and went on to build multi million dollar homes there. At our class reunion, he told my husband how he’d always thought I was so hot and how I wouldn’t give him ‘the time of day’! Yeah, that was me.
My husband and I have a word for that. “Idiot”
As I said, don’t judge a book by it’s cover. You will almost always be surprised.
My step sister uses the phrase, and I might add, way too often, “The cats out of the bag”.
She did this when she thought my son was seeing a girl she thought he shouldn’t be seeing. He was actually doing something legitimate like homework. No matter, it was what she uttered accusingly at him whenever she thought he might be with the girl. Dumb.
So now that’s our inside joke for any and all assumed revelations. So begins my story.
Long ago, 50 years or so ago, I was a young girl enrolling in college. I had been out of school six months and decided it was time to further my education. My mother was unworldly and uneducated for the most part, no help there other than she thought it would be a good idea. So, here I was at registration doing my best to fill out the required forms.
I’d not been a good student, not because I wasn’t smart enough, no it was more the stress of my living environment. My mother married a guy whose five children were all in foster homes. She thought it noble to take them all in, so she (they) requisitioned for them to live with us. One was adopted out to his grandmother before the other four were finally released to us.
Here I am a teenager in high school and our family is expanding. As it was, I had a brother and two sisters already, so adding the other four made us eight. Our parents four years later, would have one more child between the two of them. I was the eldest and I had just turned 16. Mother worked and her new husband was shipped off overseas. There was already the whispering of war ahead, but I was so unaware until Kennedy was shot.
The little ones came to us two at a time. I fell in love with the first two. They were four and six years old. They had lived in Boston, so had the cutest Boston accents.
It would also be the year I would lose my “virginity” willingly.
The other two kids arrived six months later and were not as pleasant. They were 11 and 5. The five year old had a chip on her shoulder a mile wide and the other one was obnoxious. I would be in charge of them all. My list of duties were not unlike those of any parent. I was the parent. As I kept house and cooked meals, my homework went by the wayside. Needless to say, I escaped whenever possible. I went to football games and sneaked out whenever I could. Was I a bad girl? Well, in my heart of hearts I think I knew I wasn’t but like a good many teens I acted out sometimes, “looking for love in all the wrong places”. My self esteem left a great deal to be desired in those days. In truth, I was overwhelmed in every possible way.
There were times I thought of myself as unworthy and as stupid as I imagined everyone else thought I was. Deep inside I struggled to convince myself that I was more than the sum of my parts or than what lay on the surface. I relied on my good looks more than my brains. (Sorry- camera’s weren’t that great then – BF do you remember taking this?)
I remember one time, mom and I got in this big fight. Name calling was what she did best. So, at one point, I’d had enough and left home. My boyfriend at the time had a friend, whose sister lived alone, so I crashed with her, cooking and doing laundry in exchange for room and board. I was good at both those things. During those months, I got straight A’s. I remember one of my teachers saying, “I always knew you were smart. What’s different?” I told him and he was sad. That was short lived however and I, out of concern for my siblings, would eventually move back home. I learned from one of them that with me gone, there was no one to run interference for them and they were miserable. It was what I did. Fight the bad guy.
So, when I graduated high school my grades were less than optimal. I didn’t actually think there was any way for me to go to college. We had no money and my grades were abominable. Then I learned that if I could maintain good grades in Jr. College, I could earn my way into a four year college. I thought, why not?
That is where and how I met K. It was a late enrollment, so there weren’t as many classes open and I was having a hard time deciding what to take. I will never forget how he popped in from out of nowhere to help. That he noticed me was a mystery. He was charming and beautiful and I’m not exaggerating. He of course, got me into two of his classes, Business Law and English which would later become his profession teaching.
I had just gotten over a horrible breakup with the aforementioned boyfriend, who I thought I was in love with. He had up and married unexpectedly, leaving me in the dust. I guess I should have expected it. He had graduated with honors and was attending a four year college and I was … hard on myself. I was devastated and K was so… what I needed.
I poured out my heart to him and he was a good listener. In those days he was quite the surfer dude, always looking for the best waves and places to go for them. We did a lot of fun things together. He was so easy to be with. We were friends.
During spring break, a group of us planned a trip to Mazatlan. As it turned out, of all the girls planning to go, I was the only one who made it there. Here I was with K and several of his friends. They surfed and I’d lay in the sun. We drank tequila shots with beer, ate raw oysters and drank lots of pina colada’s and margherita’s. Hell, it was spring break!
We hitch-hiked everywhere. Actually, I’d get out in the street and put my thumb out and when someone stopped, the guys would converge on the vehicle and we’d all hop in. I don’t think anyone seriously minded. They all thought it was fun, having this hot girl hitching for them. Yes, I was hot and… I would never have hitch-hiked in the states!
We also rented a jeep for those out of the way places like a lighthouse, (me moving a “formidable” rock in our way) and we
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rented horses and rode on the beach. My nethers hurt so bad from riding as I’d never ridden a horse before, but it was so worth it. That must be why our daughter loves horses. So, yes one thing lead to another.
If I thought K looked like a Greek god before, he looked even more so on the back of a horse.
I didn’t actually know I was pregnant for some time and by then K had gone back to Maryland and was no longer in my life. Interestingly though, when we decided to take a train home, a little old indigenous woman on the train came up to me/us and said I was with child which we thought ridiculous since we’d just done it. I was fairly naive and thought I was suffering from a stomach bug, barfing all the time.
After our daughter was born, I got a job as a flight attendant and would marry a pilot and change my name. Unbeknownst to me, so did K. He went back to his birth name, so in the end neither of us could find the other.
Tina, in the meantime grew up and later married.
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Move the clock forward 34 years later and we would accidentally come across one another via the internet. When his sister told him she had found us. He exclaimed, “How? I’ve been looking for 34 years!” That was good to know.
She got to meet her grandmother and aunts for the first time when she was 35 or 36. I got to meet them as well. They said as far as they are concerned, I’m their “sister” in law. His mom was 96 or 98 at the time and would die just shy of 100, not long after.
Shortly after he would meet his daughter in Amsterdam and later take a trip to Bali and begin celebrating birthdays from the point they were reunited onward.
As for us, we have not seen each other since we parted. I know I wasn’t the love of his life nor was he mine. We were “just friends”.
Would I want to see him or he me? Good question. We’ve seen pictures of one another but not spoken except through emails and through our blogs.
I am currently married to the best person for me. My hubby was able to help me heal in ways that no one else could and it couldn’t get better than that.
As for K? I know he’s single. Been married twice and lives far away.
When our daughter first met him, to paraphrase her, she says to me, “Oh mom, I know now why you fell for him, he is so charming.” LOL
Yes, he is that.
She also asked me if the song “Monday, Monday” meant anything to me.
One of these days if we live long enough and if he ever returns to the states, maybe someday we’ll meet again. Who knows?
Do you know how long it takes to read blogs? I love them but of late I’ve had to put them on hold. I especially love the friends I’ve made blogging.
There is tandemtrekking, who writes about her beautiful treks across this great country of ours, now in the process of doing the Pacific Coast Trail (?) better known as the PCT.
Nutsrok shares what it’s like to be southern and what it’s like having such a colorful assortment of relatives. Telling her stories with such great humor and candidness; bunKaryudo, I’ll be damned if I know how to pronounce that but then maybe it’s not meant to be said aloud, shares his trials of being a parent and other convivial sides of life. He is always on the hunt for subject matter to keep us entertained with.
Then, there’s thelonelyauthor, with his lovely poems about his humanness and I can’t forget all those posts from “the neighborhood @thepublicblogger“. Not lastly, there’s my friend from the past, Badfish, who shares his beautiful pictures as he journeys and gives his perspective of peoples and countries most of us may never get to know from across the world.
Not mentioned are the many more people I’ve connected with since I started to write this particular blog.
From time to time I’ve been prone to and will reblog other’s posts; if you weren’t named trust me, you’re still very important to me.
Do you ever start, stop then after awhile start again, figurin’ it’s been long enough?
That’s me. I’ve got three half started blogs, no five. This is one of them. So now there’s four.
Lately I’ve had so much on my plate. Working on what I should be working on, screenplays and trying to battle moles and gophers from my yard and finding a way of getting my yard looking half way decent within the restricted water parameters in California.
I debated on graveling the front and/or the back, but my neighbor spent thousands on just a small 6 X 15 foot stretch in his front yard and I’ve got 5 times the yard. No, I’m not ready to do that yet. It is interesting but California had us restrict our water usage and Californians being conservation minded complied, then the water board proceeds to announce that all our water rates will rise to compensate for the lack of revenue! We can’t win!
This is one of those times I wish I were back in Alabama where rainfall is consistent enough to not need irrigation or outside water sources.
It’s time for a breather.
I had a sweet Young lady visiting from France, Julia Pajot. We met on LinkedIn and became friends. After communicating for some time she came out for a visit. She was recognized for her music in an animated short that is making the film festival circuits. The following link as a beautiful piece and the pas de dux is a short she won an award for.
Through and with her, I had the grand privilege of attending some Academy animated film screenings. One at Dreamworks and another at The Writer’s Guild. Later we would view her animated short at the Beverly Hills Film Festival.
At one point I had to say “time out”, I’m not as young as I used to be and I had trouble keeping up with her. She was patient with me. <grin>
(If I’d known I’d get a red carpet pic, I’d have worn something different.)
We’d have fun for a couple of days and then I’d have to rest a couple of days. Seriously.
How she managed to stay up until one or two in the morning networking and hobnobbing, I don’t know. That’s not true. I do remember those days when I had no trouble staying out late. <sigh>
I too, was patient and I didn’t blame her, you got to make hay while the sun shines, and she had to make the best use of her time while here. She is now back in France but her efforts paid off and she is now in the process of getting a work visa to return.
In the meantime, the gophers and moles have been contained… for the time being anyway and my lawn is acquiring some color again.
I also got back into exercising but only for awhile. I think I’m prone to going at it like I was killing snakes and ended up overdoing and now have to take time out to heal my poor body. Ugh!
Isn’t it funny how our minds still think young and our bodies belie us? What am I saying? Didn’t I keep up with those young ladies at the Hollywood Dance a Thon for more than six hours?! Of course, it did take a week to recover.
So I take time off to let my shoulder, hip and knees recover and next time I start out at a much slower pace. That was the beauty of having a trainer, she made sure I didn’t hurt myself. I can keep up and do the work, but after a few weeks my body doth protest. A bigger sigh. <grin>
It was lots of fun, but now it’s time to get back to work. C’est la vie! Oh well.
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