... enjoying "small world" moments

This is a story in three parts. 

The first part is known to many of you.  

The second part is known to some of you.  

The third part ... very few of you.

PART I

I have three brothers -- all older than me -- and the middle of the three is a school teacher in England. He teaches the children of military personnel at Lakenheath Air Base. Snook (not his real name, but we'll use it anyway to protect his real identity) is a math whiz and loves getting high school kids to understand his beloved math. Teaching is so natural to him.  He taught in Michigan before heading to Japan to teach at the base in Misawa and is now in England teaching at Lakenheath. There is a rumor that he may retire soon, so that has prompted me to purchase an airline ticket so I can go to England on the cheaps in April.

PART II

I have developed a fascination with cupcakes.  Really, what is better than a cake that you get to eat all by yourself. As a result, I spend hours browsing internet sites and blogs for cupcake recipes. Once a recipe sparks an interest, I'm off to the store and then I drag out Momma's old Sunbeam Mixmaster and we whip up cupcakes. Oh the yummy delights we've made together ... and the flops I've thrown in the trash (honestly, don't people try these recipes out before they post them). This pic is one where I did a mix and match with the cupcake (vanilla) and the frosting (caramel). I must admit, they are too good.  nom nom

The poor souls at work are all too willing to be my guinea pigs and, let's just say, the plate came home empty.

PART II (and 1/2)

As part of my fascination with cupcakes, I've found a little shop just off of Camp Bowie in Fort Worth that sells only cupcakes. Nothing too unusual about that. After all, there are entire television shows dealing with cupcake shops, cupcake contests, etc. While it is true that they were Fort Worth's first "cupcake only" bakery, that's not what makes them unique for me. No, what is special about this shop is that it is truly a "mom and pop" enterprise. And while I've never been there, there's a good reason for that. They open at 10:00 in the morning and leave when their morning batch of cupcakes (300-400) is gone. They post on Facebook when all cupcakes have left the building to alert people that they are closed for the day. Generally, that happens way before I could get there ... having to work at an office where they would probably get a little upset at my running out the door at 10:00 to go get a cupcake from The Cupcake Cottage. The Cupcake Cottage couple also have no qualms about closing for a few days when they have "life events" (which they describe as anything from visiting family and friends to yard work to rounding-up unsuspecting dust-bunnies at home). Their philosophy is "work to live" and not the other way around. Because of this, I have "liked" this cupcake bakery on Facebook and enjoy seeing their daily flavors which are posted every day (sometimes with mouth watering pictures).  

PART III 

(Finally, you didn't think I'd get here, did you?)

Somehow I find out that Sandra (that's the "mom" in The Cupcake Cottage duo) writes a blog. Well, I'm a blog-a-holic so of course, I had to start reading her blog (secretly hoping for a cupcake recipe or two).  While I was disappointed to find that there are no recipes there, the following discovery did delight me. I learned that she was a school teacher long ago (well, maybe not all that long ago). Nothing earth shaking here, except that her first teaching job was (... drumroll please ...) teaching students in England at (... you ready for this ...) Lakeheath Air Base. I felt a little crazy doing it, but I wrote her a little e-mail telling her of this "small world" connection. I shouldn't have been surprised when she didn't think it was too crazy and wrote me back and gave me stories of her time in England, places she liked and memories she had, things she longed to do again. With the philosophy they have for their business, I should have known that she would appreciate the connection. I love "small world" moments and thought this one was exceptional.

Now, before I go to England, I feel a great need to visit The Cupcake Cottage and meet this lady who humored my craziness.  

Remember, it is a small world.

... you never know who knows about you or about where you've been ...

SO BE NICE TO EVERYONE.

Until next time - 

Bunches!

Nona

Headed for Sixty ... and thinking like a CAT?

OK everyone ... please stop grimacing and ... no ... wait ... don't throw things. Surely you knew this was coming. I love my critters. I love other people's critters. I love all types of critters. But I've had a cat in my life for as long as I can remember. Thomas was my first cat love and he endured moving from Arkansas to Louisiana to Texas and remained my best friend for years. After Thomas ... well ... I don't know.  There were so many cats with names as varied as Maestro, Dixie, Rastas, Happy (ahhh, yes, he was a magnificent cat), Nugget (as in Cat McNugget ... get it?), Angel, Chubbie, and the current two: Rosie and Goldie. They were all different but shared one thing in common ... they knew they were unusual and special.

If you've ever been the personal attendant to a cat, you understand what I mean. Cats know that they are NOT average critters. In fact, cats probably resent me calling them critters. I do that simply because it annoys them and because it's easier than saying, "The cats and the dogs need ____". I can simply say I need to feed the critters, give the critters water, brush the critters, take the critters to the vet, etc. There is no doubt in my mind that I've insulted the cats by grouping them with the dogs. But really, what are they going to do? They don't have opposable thumbs so they're limited in their attempts at retaliation.

I once had a birthday card that said "Cats know how you feel ... they just don't care." Well, in most cases, that is true. My cats pretty much are of the impression that I was put on this earth to care for them. They may "act" attentive and suck you in, but once you're hooked, they go back to their attitude of, "Yes, I'm pretty, now care for me." The current elder cat is a prime example. She arrived on my patio without invitation and was, well let me put this delicately, great with kitten. She took up residence in the "Dogloo" that we kept on our patio just in case the dog should ever want to sleep in it. HA! However, around that time, we were having an abundance of rain and our back yard flooded. I looked out one evening to see Rosie in the Dogloo and the the silly plastic doghouse was floating by the door. Seriously, what was I to do? I threw open the door, reached out and pulled the floating dog house over and invited the little pregnant thing into the house. Not having a timid bone in her body, she came right in.  Later, Rosie joined me when I went to bed. She was so grateful to me and couldn't contain her purring to show me her devotion (or that's what I believed at the time).  Most likely, she was just singing because she was warm and dry and had found the ultimate sucker.  Her purring was so loud, I had difficulty sleeping.

She had me hooked! The next morning, I set up a little birthing suite in our office and left her there in case the blessed event should come during the day. We continued this routine for a little over a week UNTIL ... Dennis needed in the office after I had left that morning and Rosie escaped. Being the wonderful, wise person he is, he decided that she wouldn't have her kittens that day and left her roaming in the house. That evening, I came in to a strange noise ... the ever so tiny mewing of a newborn kitten.  It was a tiny little cream colored kitten.  

Wonder of wonders ... I've never witnessed birth when I wasn't the one doing the pushing so I set up camp right outside of Dennis' closet (oh yes she did ... that was her way of thanking him for leaving her loose in the house) and watched as she gave birth to another little cream baby.  At that point, I was hoping she was through, but of course, you know she wasn't.  Along comes a gray baby and another cream kitten. She seemed to be through so I decided to give her some privacy and go watch a little TV.

After a while, during a commercial break, I decide to go and see how Momma cat and her little family were doing ... and they were fine.  Unfortunately, there were newcomers that weren't there when I left.  Another gray baby and a little orange kitten had made an arrival.


Fast forward four years and here I am ... and Rosie and the little orange surprise are vital components in my life.

Now lest you think that the other babies aren't loved, I assure you that each was given a wonderful home.  The three cream babies (who by 4 weeks of age had developed Siamese markings) were taken by our wonderful veterinarian who gave two to her mother-in-law and one to her niece.  The two little gray babies went to live with one of my co-workers and are loved and pampered as cats believe they should be.

I simply had to keep Rosie because she was so affectionate and devoted to me (remember the loud purring).  HA ... she was such a great actress.  Aloof ... this cat defines the word. Despite all of that, Rosie is a great cat but as you can see from her photo, she thinks she rules the world.

As for the little orange surprise, she was a surprise to our vet as well.  It seems that orange/yellow cats are typically male and it is unusual for females to be colored that way. So with a vet tech and two veterinaries agreeing that this kitten is definitely female, very unusual and more than a little bit special, I decided that she should just stay with me.  Unfortunately, she heard all this fuss about how "unusual" and "special" she is and now she expects royal treatment.

So now, how does this all relate to my grand scheme to enjoy the road to sixty in a full and wonderful way?  Oh, I am so very glad you asked. I have realized that just like my cats, I am unusual. I am a special creation. Everyone isn't going to treat me that way and I shouldn't care whether they do, but when I look in the mirror, I know. Trust me, I really know.

Headed for sixty and staying visible ...

Had a conversation with a co-worker who had read my blog ... she feels she is becoming invisible as she ages.  According to her, no one notices her (or any older people for that matter).  I have to disagree.  It is clearly my intention to stay visible and suggested she do likewise.

One thing I've decided to do is refuse to buy "ordinary" clothes.  If it doesn't have some detail that grabs my attention ... something that says "this article of clothing belongs to Nona" ... then I don't want it.  You know, it might be that little sparkle or a touch of bling ... perhaps a color that does way more than whisper.  I refuse to wear anything that is pastel polyester.  Please ... it's not that I want to be known as the "crazy old lady with the outlandish clothes," but I'd much prefer that to being invisible.

Accessories ... aren't they wonderful?  So yes, I did recently buy a rather sedate lavender sweater.  But when the right scarf is thrown around the neck (or even better, draped dramatically across the shoulders), well, you'd never say it made me invisible.  Now that I think of it, I may start considering my hair as just another accessory.  True, I'll probably never go punk rock pink with the hair, but it might change colors occasionally.  Just because my drivers license says my hair is brown doesn't mean it has to stay brown.  After all, weight used to be listed on drivers licenses ... and that was seldom right so I don't see why hair color should be treated like it is chiseled in stone.

So ... you know who you are ... don't allow yourself to become invisible.  Enjoy being older and embrace your entitlement to be just a little "out of the ordinary".  After all, old ladies have been doing just that very thing for generations.  We have a tradition to carry on.  But, if you're not willing to take my word for it ... just ask this lady.  She certainly doesn't feel the need to dress in pastels ... and I'm willing to bet there is nothing polyester in her closet.

God save the Queen

Decisions, decisions, decisions ...

Well, what do you know ...  I'm back.

When I decided to blog, it didn't occur to me right off the bat to decide how often to blog.  Seriously, do I blog daily as Julie did in the movie Julie and Julia? Seems systematic and orderly, but systematic and orderly isn't exactly my cup of tea.  Julie, the movie character ... well also the real person because she was more than a character -- you know, the book being based on a real life person named Julie who really did blog her way through Julia Childs' Mastering the Art of French Cooking one recipe (or sometimes more than one as the book includes 536 recipes) a day and blog about it.  Really, how did she have time for anything else?  After working, in her own words, as a "Government drone by day", her evenings were devoted to all that shopping and chopping and measuring and cooking those complicated recipes every day - then eating them - and then sitting down every evening to blog about it on a very full tummy when we all know that full tummies make us sleepy!  But, I digress.

So do I blog every day?  I really don't see that happening.  Seems like a lot of pressure to be under and goodness knows, life has enough pressure without the self-induced variety.  I really don't want this to be a bothersome task.  So maybe once a month?  I'm not sure that's even blogging ... but rather semi-blogging.  Why bother if, in a full year, you only come up with 12 entries?  So once a day is too much but once a month is not enough.  Maybe I'll blog once a week.  But what if I have a phenomenal idea (hey, it's possible) mid-week??? What then?  So in my usual non-systematic and not at all orderly way I've decided that I'll blog whenever I feel like it.  OK, I do work best under a little bit of pressure so I promise that I will blog every weekend (either Saturday or Sunday) ... even if I have nothing to blog about.  But, for the most part, you may expect a mid-week blog as well.  There.  Rule established.  Wait, I don't want there to have to be rules.  Perhaps I should say "semi-structured, non-systematic, totally without order guideline established".  Ahhh yes, that is much better.  I feel like I have accomplished something now.

Well, what am I going to blog about?  Hopefully things that help me have fun during this crazy "not quite 60" year that I've entered.  I'll talk about things I discover about myself that I really like and maybe, just maybe ... if I'm feeling very trustful of you ... I'll tell you some things that I'm really not happy with.  Whatever I blog, I really do want your feed back.  If I hit a nerve or a funny bone, let me know.  If you enjoy my blog, please feel free to share the site with others.

Let all who read my blog feel welcome.  By sharing this journey with me, hopefully you'll learn something about yourself as well.

Bunches,
Nona

Coming Attractions

Coming ... January 7, 2011 ... the tale of a semi-crazy woman trying desperately hard to not go completely crazy.  The reason I fear my sanity is the 59th birthday.  Yes, that's right ... not the 60th but the 59th.  I only dread the 59th because it immediately precedes the 60th.  With that in mind, I'm going to use the blog to prepare myself, in this last year of being 50 something, to be 60.  Join me ... share your thoughts with me ... and place your bets on whether I continue to teeter on the brink of sanity or plunge, headfirst, completely overboard.

Nona