Maiden Voyage

There are tons of thoughts for the "first time" or "have never done" you do something:

Maiden Voyage
Virgin
Newbie
Beginning
First
New
Embark
Inaugural
Original

They all sound "hopeful".  Full of excitement

What's a phrase for the "LAST TIME"?

Final
Terminal
Ending
Ultimate
Definitive

UGH!!!!

Nothing about ending sounds, in any way shape or form, like anything positive. 

I thought and thought and thought.  Researched and asked.  I couldn't come up with a phrase I like about "The Last Time".  "Odyssey" came close - it's the final trip for a ship.  "The ship is on it's Odyssey".  Guess I'm not the only one whom doesn't like the "last time".

I'm getting better at throwing things away - I tend to hang on to things too long.  Two years ago I went skiing on Memorial Day weekend.  Yes, Memorial (M is for May) Day.  It was a fun day.  I needed new skis.  The only way I was going to buy new skis is if I got rid of my old ones.  They were old.  Way over due for new skis.  We go to leave at the end of the day.  I went to leave my skis on the deck.  The girlfriend I was with talked me into taking them.  "You will want them for 'rock' skiing in the fall".  I tried to explain I wouldn't.  I tried to explain I'm not good with endings.  We took them.  They are still in my garage.  I haven't skied since.  I knew.  I didn't need new ones.  I just didn't want the old ones. It would be better to leave them.

The beginning - we are all excited.  We don't know what is yet to come.  The END.  The finale.  We tend to view "the end" as looking back.  Over.  The past

My favorite sweatshirt?  It was a grey hoodie, zipper up the front.  (Irony here - I don't think grown-up's should wear hoodies).  It was worn around the cuffs - the armpits had holes under them.  It could no longer be worn outside the house.  It was ratty, stained, yet still couldn't be thrown away.

Sometimes when you run a race, you are cold when you start.  It's early.  Once you get warmed up - you are still chilled only knowing soon you need different things to keep you warm, safe, secure later in the race.  Those things you keep - you trained.  Your music.  The stuff that got you there.  Sometimes you have to leave stuff  behind.

I left the sweatshirt at the start line of my marathon in Greece.  The only way I knew I could leave it behind.  At the start of another journey.  I have to admit, I did turn and look back after I dropped it.  Maybe I was expecting a wave good-bye?

Recently sojourning home from chasing a sunset with a suitcase that had helped deliver me there.  It's time to let go again.  This time - it's a bright, royal blue suitcase that helped deliver me there.  Santa brought it to the boys years ago along with tickets to Disneyland.  The boys and I went on our "first journey" together into unknown territory.  Now the suitcase:  It's torn.  Worn out.  Beat up.  Full of memories.  It's made it's last journey.  I'm having trouble throwing it away. 

But it's not the suitcase that holds the memories.  It's me.  It's also not a sad moment.  It's happy.  "My oh my, the stories this suitcase could tell".

Maybe this time, it's being brave.  Bold.  Standing strong.  Realizing being sad about the good-bye does not prevent the parting, it just prolongs the good-bye.

The suitcase is unpacked.  I'm not leaving the suitcase - maybe this time, I can set something free.  Set it on the corner with a sign stating "FREE TO GOOD HOME".  My trash is another person's journey.  I'm not leaving.  I'm not telling anything they have to go. I'm being brave.  For me.  I'm walking to the curb.....Setting this Royal Blue suitcase free.

With all good-byes, there are new beginnings.  Voyages.  Journeys.  Firsts.


Sometimes there is beauty in the "last".  You don't have to go back.

The Ants are mocking us

We have ants.  The little sugar ant kind.  Not the fire ants.  Not the mean ones.

We have the hard working.  Never tiring.  Never ending ants.  They are in the kitchen.  They are in the family room.  My guess is they are in the crawl space too. 

Every spring we usually get ants.  The fall, we get spiders.  All very harmless.  All very annoying.

The cat will eat the spiders in the fall.  They are little spiders - they just decided oh mid September, they would rather live inside.  USUALLY, the ants come indoors mid April.  They've been here for about a month now.

Usual remedy:  Spray apple cider vinegar along the baseboards in the kitchen.  Vacuum them up.  Place those little plastic "ant motels" down.  Put the "Seven's dust" outside along the edge of the house - then they are gone in about a week. 

This year?  They are not giving up.  They will not go away.  They will not die. They like cat food. I can put the cat's food bowl in the sink, fill it with water.  Next thing I know, the ants are all over the sink.  Maybe it's like antibiotics for ants - we've just made them stronger. 

Honestly, I'm quite impressed with these ants.  I've found morsels of cat food in a corner UNDER the ant motel.  At least they know where to hide.  Man, truly we should all be ants.  They work hard.  They are on a mission.

For a day or two, they let us think they are gone.  Then we wake up and there they are laughing at us in the kitchen.

We will try again tomorrow.  Ants have determination.  Wonder if they have dreams?

The Chicago Rule

It's the middle of the night.  You are in Chicago. (If you live in Chicago, you have to pick another city across the country).  You can call as many people as you want.  However, all you can say is:

I need you in Chicago at noon tomorrow.  It's an emergency.  Meet me at the Hancock building in the lobby.  I'll explain then.

That's it.  That's all you can say.  Then you have to hang up.  Now, please don't do this if it's not an emergency, but just think about it.

Whom would be there?

If you are LUCKY.  I mean REALLY LUCKY five people would show up.  Probably, truthfully, we all have one or two.  I don't mean those whom would show up in a couple of days.  Or those whom would need to know more.  Those are our "village".  Yes, our village could convene in a week.  Whom would be there TOMORROW.  No questions asked.

I'm talking the people whom would be there tomorrow, at noon.  They would know, if you are saying "Chicago", it's real. 

A few years ago, this was "social" talk so to speak.  A conversation had amongst friends.  This "rule" was asked over and over again.  Many conversations were spoken about this subject.  Knowing how friendships are important.

Truly, we don't know whom will really show.  Different people deal and help with different things in our lives.  Then people we never thought would "come to Chicago", show up in Chicago.  Surprises in life never cease to amaze us.

Years ago I dated a guy.  Yes, the "Peter Pan" in my life.  Well, one of them anyway.  Through it all, people have always asked why I can't let him go.  How we've maintained our friendship over these years.  I don't know.  We are mean to each other.  We ignore each other.  Real world, it would never work.  We could pretend it might work.  We actually even try this "relationship" thing every so often.  Then we go long periods of time without speaking or seeing each other.  If it was supposed to have worked out by now, it would have.   When you get to the core of our friendship.  It's not about romance.  It's about being there for someone.  We love each other.  We always will.  In a different way, the way friends are supposed to love each other.  The thing is, I know.  In my heart of hearts, if I needed him in Chicago tomorrow at noon, well, he would be there.  (No that's not true.  He would be there at one.)  But he would be there.  Not a doubt in my mind.  My kids school play - no, he wouldn't be there.  Me crossing a finish line at a race, no that's not him either.  He's just there.  Friends are there.


Sometimes we confuse actions as romance.  Then we confuse friendship as love - the Hollywood kind.  When actually, they are our friends whom love us - the real kind. The real friend whom will show up in Chicago, no questions asked.  THAT is our friendship. THAT is love. Chicago style.

No, I've never asked him about "Chicago".  He would be there. I've also never asked the three people I know whom would be in Chicago the question.  You just know.  Tomorrow at the hockey game?  No.  They wouldn't be there.  That's where you will find me.

My Chicago friends?  They are out there living their lives.  LIVING.  Breathing.  Creating their lives.  Not waiting.  Knowing.  If they ever need someone to go to Chicago in the middle of the night, well, someone will be there.

We will always LOVE each other.  There are people we all LOVE.  We just aren't supposed to live day in day out.  We are not today.  We are not every day.  We are Chicago.

Go be the friend whom would go to Chicago.

"Being someone's first love is great.  It's being their last love that is priceless....."

Your plane is boarding

Airplanes makes us primal. 

Airplane friendships.  Not airPORT conversations.  Those might actually end up with social contacts or business deals.

I'm talking airPLANES.  We all have had conversations on a plane that we would never had in real life.  With the people we really know.  Airplanes are safe.  Not safe from danger.  Nothing in life is safe from danger.  Accidents do happen - every where.  Not just in planes.  Airplanes are safe places for friendships and conversations.

Some flights are better than others:  clean, nice people, not too crowded.  Others?  Dirty, crowded, crying babies.  However, no matter what flight we are on - we are all primal.  The business executive walking around in his socks.  The news anchor, with the night mask and neck brace.  Walking around - with socks on.  Head phones on.  Laughing to different movies, pretending not to watch the others.  All headed to the same city - all with different destinations.

The person sitting next to you.  You tell them your deepest, darkest, happiest, craziest thing about your life.  Chances are?  You will NEVER see this person again.  EVER.  I've flown a lot of flights.  Only once have I seen someone I sat next too - we had a date a week or so later when he was back in town.  Other than that?  NEVER.  The the thing is, I think everyone knows it.  I've heard stories I know no one else has ever heard either.

September 11, 2001, I was stranded in Los Angeles. I was supposed to fly home that day.  Back to Denver.  It was a short business trip.  I was a "Class II" passenger allowed to fly home Friday, after the Tuesday of Nine Eleven.  Class One flew home on Thursday.  Class II - I had a return ticket, I wasn't "stranded in an emergency landing".  Basically, the first return flights.  A guy whom worked for me dropped me off at a hotel.  There was no airport drop-off allowed.  They shuttled me from some hotel parking lot to LAX.  Before that we had stopped at a drug store to buy over-the-counter muscle relaxer (Doane's backache relief).  I was a little tense.

There were armed guards at LAX.  The planes that all crashed were headed to LAX. 

As I sat at LAX, I remember looking around at the people.  I remember thinking:

• If the theory is correct, we are all connected by 6 people.  
• In theory, everyone sitting right here.  Right now, is connected.

Everyone knows someone whom knows someone, whom knows someone, etc.

TRULY?  We continue to tell people on this plane secrets?

I also remember I wasn't sure if I had the courage to get on the plane.  Though I knew, it would be safer that day than it would ever be again. Aren't those always our fears?  Are we brave enough?

But see, on the plane, we don't have to be brave.  We have to be instinctual.  We have to trust the person next to us, to take our insecurities. Make us safe.

The plane ride home from LAX was quiet.  Still primal.  An undercover Air Marshall was on that flight.  There were only 20 of us - all gathered in one little section.  We all told stories.  We all shared fears.  We shared hopes.  No one said too much though.  Hoping this time we all had at least one destination in common.

Comfort Zone

Living confined within our comfort zone is an easy thing to do.  It's safe inside the comfort zone.  We think we know what will happen.  What WON'T happen.  The expected.

It can also get boring there.  Predictable.  Comfortable.

Even me, the adventurous one must venture outside my comfort zone.  And it's hard.  Yes, even for me.  I'm not afraid to try.  But it's still a push, and I'm a social person.  Going somewhere new.  Well, it's new.  You don't know what to expect.  It's hard.  The people might not like you.  We all still have that insecure person living deep inside.  What if I fail?  

Of course, most of our worries in life are just in our head.  It's really not that bad.

So tonight, I'm going out with a few of the "hockey moms" - not my normal, "hockey mom" group - another group invited me out.  I said yes.  I always say "yes".  Doesn't mean it isn't hard.  What if I'm bored to death?  What if they don't like me?

Who cares?  It's not for the rest of my life.  It's one night.  I just might like a different place.  Out of the rut.

Which brings me to my original adventure to Hawaii.  It was risky.  It was out of my comfort zone.  It was a new thing to try.  Actually though, I never even thought about it twice.

On the other hand, I've been quite stingy with my invitations for others to join us.  This was MY adventure.  Going to a place I had never been.  Doing something I had never done.  I wanted to go alone.  It was important to me.  In the past, I had traveled for business alone, but never on an "adventure".  I needed to do it, for me. By myself.  Then I wanted the boys there, just us. Usually, we meet up with people we know.  I love those times, I just needed this.

Quite honestly, I'm a little possessive of "our island".  Possessive of the time I have with my boys.  Of course, I have invited some friends, and they have shown up!  It's been a blast, but the invitations have been few and far between.  Truthfully too, there are people I haven't invited - it's my escape from the real world.  My real friends.  Which is truly ironic, because they are my "real" friends.

This year though, a very special lady got an invitation.  Come with me.  For a week.  Come to a place you have never been.  On a journey by yourself.  To a place far away.  Out of your comfort zone.  All of it.  Long flight.  By yourself.  Come to a place that taught me so much about me.  Come let me share my journey with you.

When I first mentioned it, I received the response I thought I would, "I don't know.  It's far".  Me:  "Just think about it.  You've always wanted to go.  There were always reasons it didn't happen."  "Papo didn't want to go.  It was too far to leave him."  "Now, though, he left you airline miles - it's a free flight.  A free place to stay".  "Just think about it."

Leaving a comfort zone is difficult.  For anyone.  Trying something different is scary.  After 67 years of a  routine, I know it's scary.  But I found me, outside my comfort zone.  I know you will be fine.  After all, I am your grand-daughter.

The Post Office

Or if you are from Europe "The Post".

I truly believe individual post offices are designed with the MOST inefficiency in mind.  Nothing about this place is efficient.

Parking lots are not designed for you to "drop off" packages.  You must park, then go in.  Now letters, the drive thru is great.  Usually too, the parking lots have LOTS of parking - or none at all - although it's not like you are going to be in the post for a long time - it's supposed to be a short stop.

Now on to the inside of the post office.  Granted, they have come a LONG way with the machines as well as clerks.  Only the machines can only do "some" mailings.  NO media mail.  NO international mail.  Which actually does makes sense.  Maybe though, there could be a "sign" telling us which line to stand in.  Or stand in the machine line. I don't care what anyone tells you - there is ALWAYS a line at the post office.  I don't mind standing in line.  Some guy the other day gave me his card and wrote "text me" on the card.  While it made me smile, what are we 14??  Just say call me. Or, even better, "may I call you"

The PO BOX area.  This is the area that makes the LEAST sense of all of the above.  This area is spacious.  Uncluttered.  The cleanest area of all.  Why?  You aren't there long.  You check your box, then you leave - the least amount of time is spent in this area.  Yet where you have to stand in line, is well, cramped.  Crowded.  Dingy.

Enough of my complaining.  Now, why I don't like the actual post office - I do LOVE the postal service.  You want to know why?  For $.45 they will come to MY house in Denver, CO and take a letter to YOUR house ANYWHERE in the United States of America.  AND deliver it to YOUR front door.  FOR FORTY FIVE CENTS.    No wonder they are going out of business.

My suggestions:

• Stop mail delivery on Saturdays, but make the post office open on Saturdays.
• No mail delivery on Tues or Thursday.  Wait make that Monday's or Thursday's - after all there are 7 Monday closed holidays already.  (This doesn't include if a July 4, Christmas or New Years fall on a Monday) 
• Or charge for home delivery and make box delivery free

I know, I know there are mail carrier jobs out there.  But, why, oh why do we still get residential delivery.  I can see in rural areas, or for those that can't get out.  Maybe you get a tax break if you opt for "no home delivery".  Except, I would probably forget to go get my mail.  After two summers with no mail, well, it's ok.
The Postal Service was designed to get information to each other across the world in a timely matter.  Times have changed.

Truly though, you know why we can't get rid of the postal service?  No, it doesn't make money.  Yes, it could be done better.  No, it's not perfect.  But, it delivers dreams.  Thoughts. Home-made cookies. Hand-made dresses. They deliver hope. Hope with shiny catalogs of things we like.  Discounts on things we want to buy. Hope that maybe today there will be the hand-written note telling us nothing more than "hi", "I was thinking of you", "thank you" or "I'm sorry" or "I love you too".

I've missed you too

Writing is a funny thing.  When it flows, well, it flows.  Sometimes it doesn't.  Not at all.  Nadda.  As you may have noticed, we haven't been communicating lately.  You and me.

Communication is a two way street.  Sometimes I feel I just ramble.  Nothing makes sense.  Words just come out and the story doesn't make sense.  I'm rambling again.  That guest at the party whom keeps talking about herself.  You know, the one you try to change the conversation, it just doesn't work.  They keep talking.  That's me right now...

Then the strangest things happen.  The rest of the world starts asking questions about, well, you.  Next thing you know a dialogue occurs.  Only you realize this person knows your stories.  And it's great.  You are having a conversation about things you both like.

As mentioned before, I read tons.  Blogs, editorials, columnists, books.  Yes, I too take it personally when I haven't been written lately.  I haven't received any "mail".  I miss my blogs too.  It's a modern day, public journal of happenings.  When they don't write us, we miss them.

Thank you for missing me.  Some sunshine and toes in the water have restored some creative thoughts.  I've missed you too.