Heavy Duty Ponders

Up early this a.m., baking up blueberry muffins for my just-adopted ANC freshmen boys.  (Carl Asplundh's family belong to Fred's & since everyone at Fred's is family that makes him a nephew by breakfast club.)  As  I was checking to see if the muffins in the portable oven (on extra high heat) were ready for transfer to the toaster oven (lower heat), saw a KOB that I keep in a place of honor.  A small square of folded notebook paper with the name SNOOPY penciled across the front.  

Suddenly, I was a sophomore in high school, at ANC.  The note was from my DEKA secret sister, Margie Cranch (Echols).  It is one of my great treasures.  I was code word Snoopy, she was - naturally - Pooh ("Because, like Pooh, I am a bear of very little brain," she explained.)  A lifetime of special memories rushed in, from sophomore year.  

Vera Powell was our homeroom teacher, I think it might have been the year she & Bruce Glenn first fell in love.  The biggest news was getting a new classmate - Neva Gladish.   My main memory about socializing was helping locate a place to get dry ice so we could have "ground fog" at the Sophomore Party.  

The best part about sophomore year was that we were FINALLY full-fledged high school students, eligible to participate in more sports (always INTRA-mural, class against class;  no mixed class teams, except GAA, since we never played other schools - not proper for the feminine) & to join the AKM (it was extremely rare that freshmen lived in the dorms) & get into the chorus if the school was doing a Gilbert & Sullivan production.  We had arrived.  And I had the blessing of Margie as my not-so-secret sister.

Thoughts of Margie & our lifelong friendship brought me around to thinking about my high school years, which - like many kids - were none too happy for me.  Which is strange, because being who I was they should have been a blast.  If only I had known who I was - aye, that's the rub.

Looking back, it feels clear that the person who hand-drew a card & sent it with as a "so glad you're coming" note to future classmates was my natural self, bonhomie in my very bones.  The person they met when they arrived for school - ah, that was my nurtured self.  A very different creature.  Put the two together & you had a strange critter.  

Enough years were spent being that critter; there's no sense dwelling on whatever created it (besides, any surmise I make is certain to be off by a mile).  It is realizing how disparate the two  qualities - nature & nurture - were. This I do know - if I had given myself over to my true nature, I would not have fit into my family life.  And that - more than possible friends - was all-important to me.  I didn't see the disconnect because of being heavily invested in blindness.  

Sheez - a lot of heavy duty pondering, all due to spotting one small square of folded lined paper with a name across it.  

"You uncomplete me."

Yeah, yeah, yeah - that's not the iconic line from Jerry McQuire, but it's a healthier sentiment, one that sums up my love match with John.  

John doesn't make it feel like everything is alright & whole in my world.  He helped open the way for me to find a safe vantage point to see where things are falling apart, areas where our relationship needs some patching, what things are broken in my life & need repair or to be thanked & chucked.  

Guess you could say John held open the first door - one I didn't even existed - to that safe spot, then stepped back to let me open the rest. 

Many years ago, I sent John a card that said, "I'd say you're all my dreams come true...  except I never dreamed that good."  Never in all my youthful & not-so-youthful dreams did I begin to imagine a true love who doesn't see me as perfect, his ideal realized. Never dreamed I'd marry someone whose core life lessons include "perfection equals paralysis."  Wow.... 

My life is far from perfect, but every day I get to glory in the remarkable experience of having a love who sees me as uncomplete & finds that just fine.  He's not, either - I uncomplete him, too.  And isn't that grand?!

YES!

Sobering to realize that my #1 job today is the same as it was when I was in 6th grade, in high school, in college, at work, dealing with relationships - to know what matters & to say YES! to it via targeted, joyful actions.  Continually.  As in, don't stop because there is no end, just a glorious stream of beginnings.

Cosmic...

Stepping Back

How glorious, to step back into my own life, to fully participate in its joys, its challenges, its rewards.

Quirky

Interesting quirk - hearing myself say what strikes my own ears as illogical.  Has happened quite a few times in my life, each time flooding my mind & heart with Wow! illumination.

Remember hearing myself tell my sister, Mim, "You know if you ask me to do something, I have to do it."  Heard it & realized it was true.  And so very wrong that is should be.  Remember hearing myself tell Page, "Oh, I never set goals; the surest thing I can do to ensure not reaching a goal is to set it."  Heard it & realized it was true. And so very wrong that it should be.  

Who doesn't know that I adore & admire my husband?  A true "He is mine! She is mine!" love.  But one small character trait drives me totally around the bend, instantly filling me with frustration & ancient sadness & all sorts of ugly feelings about myself (an old trait & beyond loopy).  I can point it out to him, tell him the depth of despair it fills me with, explain that his changing this seemingly itsy bitsy thing would make a huge difference in my life, in our relationship.  

Last night, it hit me between the eyes ~  if he didn't change when I first noticed & openly acknowledged it in 1989 (and all the countless times between then & now),  it's not about to happen. Not then, not now, not ever.  I told John what I believe in my heart of hearts - he'll never change - and I could not change my desperate reaction  Heard it & realized that while it feels true for me that he will not change, it's not for me to say.  It's not my trait.  Whether he changes or not is up to him.  But my own reaction of turning it into my personal Dementor?  THAT is in my power.   

It's up to me to change from clinging to whatever it is that instantly blows a small thing up into something that sucks out all light & life, filling my entire being with darkness & death.  Praise be for being quirky, for hearing when I say the utterly illogical, for instantly realizing the folly in the words.  And for being able to DO something about it.  

My quirky Ah Ha! moments are typically followed by an immensely practical one - realizing that yes, whatever it is thats bedeviling me IS outside my ability to change. So I go looking for others to help shed light on my darkness.  Bishop Pendleton, Willard Heinrichs, Mark Carlson, Kevyn Malloy - all people I sought help from over my lifetime.  Just this week, Edie Weinstein.  

Seeking help, seeking change is as natural to me as breathing.  It's not to a lot of people, a lot of them even find the trait suspect - no one can hear & respond that quickly.  My sister-in-law captured that skeptical response best, labeling it irksome, insincere, among other things.  And although I didn't agree, I also couldn't see much good in the quirky response.  Took until my 3rd act to realize an inborn drive to make things work, make broken things whole.  I hear when I say things that make no sense, then look for what does.  Am blissed to realize, "Hey, that's not quirky - that's one smart cookie!"

Okay, it feels like John cannot change (although who know?).  

That leaves it to me.  

Might not seem fair, might not seem "right," but it is what it is.  

Get over it, get on with it.

Tonight's Forecast...

Looking forward - -  feeling what I feel, being willing to give up things that are comfortable or even beloved in order to get to something more in sync with my True North self - - how am I different on May 1, 2013 than I am at 11:34 p.m. on 01/24/13?

For starters (literally), I start my day with breathing exercises & a spot of meditation.  (Okay, I actually start my day feeding the cats, but an earlier permanent rise is not on my first quarter's agenda.)

Then, I get dressed to head outdoors & do at least a walk around the block.  Regardless of weather (unless it is a blizzard or wind storm, which would be dumb).

Back inside for a quick write - maybe as short as a paragraph - that captures what's important to me at that moment.

Breakfast - a major challenge.  On 01/24/13, I fall to pieces when it comes to planning & making a consistently healthy, low-calorie breakfast.  Happy to get Candy's advice on a yummy breakfast that is now part of my routine.

Breaking my day down into manageable portions of time beckons. Appeals to my underutilized, ready to spring into action organized self.  The more predictably managed the day, the more I can get done, the better I will feel.  Just makes sense.

For many years, my motto has been Scire Qui Scire, or whatever is Latin for "I know what I know."  In English - I am responsible for living a life that recognizes & lives by what I know & hold to be true.  That is a  BIG charge, a major call to live the life that I know makes sense, is right.  Not easy, but I can't deny that it is true.

The Post-it notes on the pantry, clearly visible as I walk up from the den,  guide my steps throughout the day, helping me stay focused in the direction I intend, not meandering off onto some unplanned & distracting wrong way.  

My work on building a career structure around my gifts, talents & skills continues to be a major priority, along with increasing my level of fitness.  My grannie blogging website gets daily attention, whether posting a quote of the day along with a creativity prompt or adding a photo or responding to a comment someone left.  Two senior storytellers have joined my client list and I work with a marketing professional to fill all the available slots & develop a waiting list!  

An hour - just one - is allocated for being online.  And that includes writing in my other blogs.  Additional time is used if specifically needed, but I've worked my online time into a valuable, not time-eating, activity.

Every hour, I take a quick walk around the house or spend a few minutes picking things up.  An hour - at the least - is spent each day cleaning.  The house is still sniffy, but it looks welcoming.  We enjoy the peace we experience, walking in the door.

Each day, I write at least one letter or send one card.  It could be to someone dear to my heart or a newly engaged or married couple, parents of a new baby, congrats on a wedding or anniversary or baptism or other special life event, or caring thoughts on a death or funeral.  

I have lunch in the front room, away from the prying presence of kitty cats.  It is balanced, easy to make & tasty.  Ditto dinner, which we eat BEFORE 7:00 p.m.  NO water or food or online activity after 8:00 p.m. - we use that as reduced stress time, reading,working on something creative, snugging time with John listening to the radio (if we have the time).  

Bedtime by 10:30 p.m.  Every night, instead of saying a traditional prayer with set language, thank All That Is for a great day & ask what's up next.  

One thing that I can't get my head around - exercising.  Can feel those energies balking at getting together for a healthier, more WHOLE body.  Keep my mind open to them over the following days.

Brain Bounces

Several things have been bouncing about in my brain...

How consciously making little, permanent changes seem to always lead to big, unexpected, awesome transformations.  After several years of actively experiencing it (looking back, can see it in my earliest memories), I've finally accepted it as anything but flukes.  Looking back, they feel downright magical, fabulously miraculous.  

Tuli Kupferberg caught what I embrace ~  

"When patterns are broken, new worlds emerge."  

The scary thing about breaking patterns - what makes a shocking number of sane & reasonable humans stay snug in a limiting status quo - is not being able to foresee WHAT new worlds will emerge.  

As I approach my birthday, am struck anew with my own umpteen decades of missing a core article of faith I heard from my earliest years - when we permanently change patterns for the better, spiritual elbow room is opened up for All That Is  to renovate our core loves/desires.  

Sure, I knew that before, at least in theory - impossible to guess how many times I wrote it down or shouted it out as the right answer in Dan Goodenough's or OdeO's or Bruce Rogers' religion class.  Today, I know it as experienced fact.  A fact, it feels to me, that can't really be shared with others because it's so....  out there.  Has to be experienced to be fully, really grasped.

The life that leads to heaven is found in a life lived without any thought of a reward, including getting to a pleasant Here After.  We need to be good & helpful & caring & vulnerable because that's the right way to be; because whatever we describe as a Higher Power created us to be helpful, not hurtful.  But to do things because they will please Someone, will get us into His/Her good graces, never made sense to me.  Not as a child, not as an adult.  

To be present in my biggest way possible means putting one foot in front of the other, taking small steps, looking around to ensure the direction I want to reach is the way I'm going.  Easy to write, a challenge to live.

Katie Joy

Had a wonderful visit with a friend last night, seeking support & maybe a bit of back bone over a steaming cup of hot chai tea.  Looking forward to when I can afford to bring her on board as a coach, forever grateful for the time she so generously gave me on a colllddd winter's night.

On the drive home, got to pondering - what is happening, what am I doing, when I experience life as my BEST self?  What home situations bring out my best?  Which friends summon forth my best persona?  What would I be doing on my BEST day?

All interesting questions to ponder as I take purposeful strides toward formulating what I want my life's work to be, how do I want to make & spend money, what I am willing to give up that I really like & am comfortable with to get what only exists in my imagination, is unfamiliar & will cause discomfort at times in the realizing.  How much am I ready, willing & able to sacrifice on the altar of purpose to become more & more the best version of my life purpose?

Questions that went unasked until a couple hours with my dear Katie Joy.

Mrs. Tisdale

Has another miraculous turn of events happened in my life?  I surely do hope so - something so perfect, so what is needed in this moment, yet something I never ever would have asked for because it would never have occurred to me it might be even remotely in the realm of possibility.  

But the All-Knowing knows all, and here it is -  I met Mrs. Tisdale & entered her world.

What a remarkable world, in both physical & metaphysical senses.  Set on about ½ acre of beautifully kept, the whimsical  yard & house seems a wondrous reflection of the woman.  Karen told me ahead of time that back when Mr. Tisdale was available to help, her gardens were a small version of Longwood (with a mega touch of Chanticleer) and that massive collection of various things that would leave anyone else’s house looking like a pawn shop, but that it all works in Mrs. Tisdale’s.  

She was spot on.

One of the many awed impressions I took away from meeting Karen’s dear friend was that where she lives reflects who she is.  A woman of many interests, experiences, friends & appreciated acquaintances, all of which find a “just right” spot in her life. 

Karen said she wanted to connect the two of us because she thought I could give Mrs. Tisdale the little bit of extra help getting here & there she needs these days;  however, I suspect that Karen saw that Mrs. Tisdale - a much-loved & lauded, now retired high school guidance counselor – could be just what I need in my own here & now.

Unexpected Allies

Once again, the totally unexpected, something I'd never thought to ask for, arrived via Facebook message, provided by someone sort of logical when I think about it, but not obvious.  

Dear Universe - mega thanks!  Keep such blessings as this new unexpected ally coming!  They are appreciated more than I can express.   

Ball's in my court - I will make the most of this new oopportunity & all the others that ease my task of building a strong inner structure out of what was once mush.  

Auntie Mame Nailed It

Mame Dennis nailed it, when she told the hapless Agnes Gooch,  "Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death!"

Cannot remember a time I didn't believe that. Was there ever a time the charge of being a Pollyanna wasn't being leveled at me?  Too sunny, too cheerful, too upbeat - to a lot of people, those qualities smack of insincerity, of brown nosing, of being shallow.

Well, fiddle-dee-dee to them!!

And the same f-d-d to those folks who think that my disinterest in getting a thorough check up for my breathing problems is unreasonable, even irresponsible.  While some friends worry I've become a darkly fatalistic Pollyanna, I like to think of  myself as a thoroughly well-grounded, life-embracing one!  

Back when John & I married, our future was assured.  John was a freelance airbrush artist, a job my boss said guaranteed a hefty income. I had every reason to expect I’d ultimately get thrown one of those POG (Prudential Old Guard) 30^th Anniversary parties I helped organize, and another shindig - with John & loving family on hand - as I retired with a hefty bank account, a  well-stocked 401k, and a lifetime of gilt-edged retiree health care coverage.  

Except life set everything on its ear.  Repeatedly.

Our current reality is that we have the paltriest of bank accounts & every penny plus more in it is due to the tax collector.  Again.  Much to our surprise.  Up to a week or so ago, we'd taken pride in having that expense covered.  Thanks to a commission John had on the boards ~ money which would only be in our hands for the briefest of moments before heading to the not-so-patiently-waiting tax collector ~  we were covered.  Then, the commission went pouf! when the client’s husband, on seeing comp art for review, said, “I could get that done by someone online for $250.” 

Did I freak out?  Ring my hands?  Even seriously fret?  No.  We’d done what we were supposed to.  The project was lined up, John had done what he was supposed to do.  

What else could be done?  Strong arm the client into changing her mind? 

Sure, it took me by surprise.  I’d never known a client to back out of a commission at the comp art stage.  John doesn’t bill a client until AFTER the comp art is approved or final changes are made to the preliminary sketch.  No approval – no $$$. 

What could he have done differently?  Nothing. 

Along those same lines, my current reality is that I have a medical condition that causes me to have shortness of breath, both waking & sleeping.  Several times a year, I’ll wake up, on the couch in the den, in abject terror, breathing heavily.  Have slept there for longer than I care to say, in order to sleep more or less upright.  

Last night shook me up so much, I actually went upstairs to sleep with John, even though my breathing usually keeps him awake.  (He assured me it wasn’t, but he went to bed early tonight because he’s tired, so you figure out if he was telling the truth or making me feel better.)  

And then there's my wobble & limp.  When I stand up after sitting for an hour, I have to clutch onto something to get my balance; even then, I tend to wobble about for a bit.  When I've been standing in one spot for a while, I limp.  When I've been standing in one place for a long while, I can limp for a day or more.  (Disconcerting, looking so much like my brother, Peter, when he needed hip work.)  

What's the problem?  An excellent question to which I have no answer.

About four years ago, the school where I taught was informed that Philadelphia required all teachers - including alternative ed teachers - needed to have it certified that we did not have TB.  This was not a big deal for most of my colleagues, as they saw their physician on a regular basis.  Not me.  I hadn't seen a doctor since 2002, the last time I had health care coverage.  Found a doctor, arranged an appointment, had a physical, along with blood work & an x-ray to definitely rule out TB.  

  

It does not bode well when the person reading your chest x-ray says,

 “Call your doctor IMMEDIATELY.”

Which I did.  The x-ray ruled out TB.  That was the good news.  It also revealed a 5 cm “shadow” on my chest.  Not so good.

The doctor explained that the next step was to get a cat scan ASAP. 

Yeah.  

The blood work, which everyone – including my doctor – expected to be $500 was billed at $1500;  when I protested the amount, the billing office informed me, “You're not under contracted care; we can charge you whatever we want.”  Completely true, on both counts.  They can & they do. 

Imagine what a cat scan would be?!

Here comes the broken record part, the stuff that my friends hear every time they make impassioned pleas to get my condition diagnosed - - why would I spend mega bucks on diagnosing something I don’t have the $$ or coverage to treat?  My practical turn of mind says, “Throwing away money.”  

If  anyone wants to underwrite diagnostic care, then please give me the considerable wad of bucks it would take so I can put it to good use LIVING.

Maybe my attitude is rooted in all the years I kept life at arm’s length (if I could have kept it ever farther away, I would have).  Foolish me, I filled it with fretting & fussing over things I wished weren’t instead of embracing & expanding the things that ARE.   

Here I am, finally, actually, fully, joyfully & purposefully participating in my own life and I am NOT going back.  Which is what I’d be doing if, given my realities, I made a priority of finding out what’s up with my health.

Over the past 24 years, I’ve discovered that one of my most passionate dislikes is getting mired down in hapless energies.  Even if someone came up with the $$ for me to get diagnostic testing, there's no coverage & no saved money to pay for treatment.  If someone came up with the $$$ for treatment - even if all I need were meds - the costs would be astronomical, especially for someone w/o pharmacy coverage?  Imagine the $$$$$$$$$$ costs if surgery is advised??  Oh, and factor in the cost of me not working. 

I’d be in the hospital, but John & the cats would be out on the street. 

For years, I've pegged myself as the poster child for health care reform.  Alas, anyone in my situation doesn't qualify for the Affordable Care Act.  As for other aid, you'd be amazed at how much home ownership disqualifies someone.  And I am NOT about to dishonestly "work the system" to get the care.

My life has some really troubling things about it.  If I still had a cushy job in Corporate America, things might be different.  Or might not.  Health care coverage is not what it was.  I have friends whose health care plans carry $3,000 annual deductibles.  Annual.  (A mega advantage is that when they do pay a bill, it’s at the contracted rate.)

My greatest fear isn’t that I will die.  

It’s that I won’t fully live. 

Sad but true, I spent over 50 years of my existence on this planet in a sort of half life, seeking something that could never be.  For 50+ years, I irrationally held onto the slimmest of slim hopes that people who couldn’t relate to me suddenly would. Note, I don't say wouldn't - couldn't.  

What a lot of time to waste.  Imagine taking 50+ years trying your very best to get two male plugs to connect, to generate energy, never realizing it’s never going to happen. 

Wait a sec –  that's wrong.  They weren’t wasted years.  They were invested.  

Over those years, I learned a lot.  About human nature, about family dynamics, about personal strengths & weaknesses (my own & others), about matters of spirit transcending matters of everything else.  I learned to wildly embrace & love the concept of family as an abstract instead of as something tangible.  I learned we’re put on this earth to be our best self, which almost always - with almost everyone - starts with stripping away all the weirdness that got stuck to you but never belonged in the first place.

At this present moment, I am in a place that feels wonderful.  

Yes, there are health issues.  There are money issues.  And if I had been remiss in saving, then I’d beat myself up over being short-sighted.  But I wasn’t.  I’d saved up a nice chunk of change – or so I thought.  John had an IRA.  

Life had different plans.  

But LIFE never had different plans for ME – 

it always wanted me to be the best, fullest expression of all that I am.

Over the past year, that’s happened.  If I can feel shortness of breath & wobbly ankles, I feel even more strongly the thrilling spirit that has filled this past year. 

It’s my pleasure & honor to work with grannie clients, getting them out & about.  I want to grow that work, find ways to reach out to more families affected by the challenge & reward of having older members needing extra attention & the special insights to the elderly that I received through Mom & Mom M., "Grandma" Rose & Miss Cornelia, Viola Ridgeway & Rachel Carlson et al.  I’ll never be someone adept at helping meet a grannie client meet their day-to-day needs ~ my mother & her friends were older but never, in spite of their ages, elderly.  

My gift is not in being a friend, a companion, 

but as a side kick, someone who makes things HAPPEN. 

It’s moot whether my health declines when I am in my early 60s or 80s or 100s – it’s going to decline sometime.  What matters isn’t my health, it’s what I do with my life, as it is. 

For me, that means doing WAY more than I have so far.  First & foremost, it means improving my level of fitness, which is lousy.  It’s true my breathing problems contribute to being overweight & being overweight contributes to my breathing problems, but all that means is it’s going to take an extra effort to improve my level of fitness. 

It means improving my life skills.  Okay, I’ve improved them quite a bit over the past 10+ years, but they're still abysmal.  It will take help from others to clean up & reorder my wretchedly gunked up patterns.  Restoring them to health & wholeness is way more important to me than finding out why I sound like I’m about to expire after 5 minutes of brisk walking.

We are all going to expire.  

My hope is that when I do, it will be swift & with as 

little inconvenience to others as possible.  

But I’m going to expire.

The question is – will I fully live?  

It’s not going to happen if I waste my time & other people’s money finding out information that has no relevance to me. 

Am I a Pollyanna?  Absolutely!  And proud of it!  Who wouldn't chose to be upbeat over the alternative?  But more than Pollyanna, am hoping to be as much Auntie Mame as Aunt Deev,  ready & rarin' to LIVE! LIVE! LIVE! 

If Only...

If only I could get more "olders" to get up & get out.  Have seen the profound impact just going out to dinner can have, and the even greater impact of heading up the River Road to hear Barbara Trent perform her smooth jazz vocals at the Centre Bridge Inn.  What I would give to become a Pied Piper of olders, getting more of them to concerts in Philadelphia, out to delightful dinners where they're treated like royals, to hear a great songstress caress legendary songs!

Makes me cringe, thinking about the smaller lives so many olders face, so many people who are resigned to a smaller space, smaller expectations, smaller opportunities.  I'm all about BIGGER, about more, about expanding what is to whatever new limit it can reach.

When it was time for Whitney's wedding shower, way back in 2000, Mom hesitated, leery about going.  What a pity, I thought, if she doesn't make the attempt.  Maybe it would end with us at the shower, maybe it wouldn't, but Mom would have succeeded simply by making the attempt.  So off we went, Mom emboldened by my reassurances of turning around the second she felt she wasn't up to it.  She knew she had control, as assuredly as if she was driving.  Having the freedom to say NO also gave her the freedom to say YES.  And we got all the way to Berwyn, all the way to D'Entremonts, to the front door, to the party.  That success - directed by Mom - made way for more outings, until there wasn't so much as a smidgen of hesitation.  

There are several reasons I take one of my grannie clients up to Centre Bridge Inn to hear Barbara sing.  For one thing, she shared a love of jazz with her beloved husband.  Hearing the great standards, especially by an artist that gives quite a few a Dixieland swing, brings him to mind - when she hears a song she enjoyed with her beloved, for brief moments even I can almost feel his presence.  Last night, a couple around my age got up & danced as Barbara san Roberta Flack's signature, The First Time (ever I saw your face);  my dear older became all soft affection,  just watching the two of them.  Watching her face, her body language, touched my heart as much as watching them.

Plenty a lot of people who've downsized from a house to a more manageable apartment still have many opportunities to sense being fully alive, to feel heart touched.  Alas, there are also a lot who don't, who move through downsized lives with downsized experiences.

If only I could reach out to them, convince them to go out for a whirl, find out what they loved to do, find something that connects to it.  It might not be possible to make an older's life BIG, but how I'd love to make more at least a little bigger, a bit more fully connected to the larger life present moment.  

Maybe a good start would be by changing my "If only..." thought to a "Someday" determination!

A Gran(d) Night!

Last night was my best New Year's Eve EVER!!  None other comes close, not even the swank black tie party at Richard & Nora's the year after we were married.  Never thought anything could top that splendiferous soiree!

And it wasn't until late on 12/29/12 that I had so much of an inkling of the fun that lay ahead!!

It was on New Year's Eve eve - around 10:30 p.m. - that a grannie client, lulled into bald-faced honesty by the late hour & a vodka martini, blurted out, "I dread New Year's Eve!"  

Those few words hit me smack between the eyes.

Was still smarting from not realizing that one of my grannie clients was alone on Christmas Eve,  the worst time of the year to be at home by yourself.  New Year's Eve is a close second, especially for widows & widowers.  

Might have muffed being available when I was needed on 12/24/12, but still had time to cover 12/31/12!!  

Assured my g. c. I'd put together a special evening.  The look in my eyes & the bounce in my voice told her, "Dear friend, this is a done deal!" 

What started out as a special evening for two grannie clients expanded from a pot roast dinner with all the trimmings for the two of them into something considerably bigger & way better!  

In less than 36 hours, I got a "go" from the director of the local senior residence (home to one of my g.c.), who posted an invitation to all the residents for "Dessert & Martinellis" in their attractive dining room followed by a movie.  I snapped to, a whirlwind of shopping, baking, gathering up a few extras to give some pzzazzz (a few Happy New Year! hats & glistening serpentines & noise makers, along with my collection of champagne flutes), and managed to pull my #1 choice for the movie - Holiday - out of a party hat   (the story of procuring it - less than 6 hours before party time - is one of my 10 greatest triumphs of 2012!!!).  

Dinner was a snap - put the pot roast on at 8 a.m., got some of Fernando's delicious brown gravy for the meat & potatoes (used diced tomatoes & coffee for the liquid - great base for soup, not for gravy), cheated with ready-made mashed potatoes, made sure I had Anne's beloved broccoli, then put the dinner together with ease in Marg's cozy kitchen.  Went without a hitch.

While the ladies & John chatted after dinner, I hightailed it to the dining room to set up "Dessert & Martinellis."  

Everything went like clockwork!  

Sort of chortled, noticing how Cairnwood Village residents waited politely outside the open dining room doors until the clock hit 7:00 p.m.  Such a reward, seeing their smiles, catching their high spirits.  

It took a little bit of urging to get them to use the nine champagne flutes I'd put out - they thought they were just for decoration! - instead of just the back-up plastic glasses, but soon each flute had been filled.  

For me, it was as much a celebration of "grans" (gals & guys) who've been mentors & role models in my life as it was a New Year's Eve party.    And amazement that >I< made it happen by pulling together inspiration, a rather unusual personal data base, and organizational skills honed this past spring/summer/fall by my Bryn Athyn Bounty participation.   

The honored guests were back in their apartments, John from taking a grannie client home, the last  bit of cleaning was finished before 10 p.m., leaving us plenty of time to head over to see in the new year with friends at a party that serendipity placed not far from Cairnwood Village.  

The best tribute to how well everything fell into place was the fact that I had plenty of energy left to enjoy toasting the new year within a circle of dear friends.  

With Cairnwood Village now having a weekly movie night, my plan is to do a  monthly "Dessert & Martinellis."  It would touch my heart if other younger adults join in on the festivities - so much fun for so little work & grand for the "grans" of Cairnwood Village to connect with some of the younger adults of our community!  

It was a gran(d) night for smiling!

p.s. - took a lonnng nap today.