Ballet of a Lifetime 7/25/37 - 6/4/22

Entree a Nouvelle York

Pirouette a Jackson Heights a l'age 1 de l'age 20

Elle a danse' pour beaucoup des annees

La television, le <<Merry Mailman>> et aux stages nombreux.

A l'age de 16, elle a petitionnee l'Organization des Triangles

Ou-t-elle a rencontre' son mari  Peter

Ils ont marie' le 10 Mai 1958;

C'est un aventure nouvelle

Maintenant, Connecticut entree de la vie pour les annees 45.

Les enfants arrivee a Nouvelle York et Connecticut

A NY, elle a maintenu une silhouette soignee;

mais a CT, plus de conduite signifie moins d'exercise.

Outdoor Code

The Outdoor Code

As an American, I will do my best to:

Be clean in my outdoor manners.

(I will treat the outdoors as a heritage. I will take care of it for myself and others. I will keep my trash and garbage out of lakes, streams, fields, woods, and roadways.)

Be careful with fire.

(I will prevent wildfire. I will build my fires only when and where they are permitted and appropriate. When I have finished using a fire, I will make sure it is cold out. I will leave a clean fire ring or remove all evidence of my fire.)

Be considerate in the outdoors.

(I will treat the land and other land users with respect. I will follow the principles of outdoor ethics for all outdoor activities.)

Be conservation-minded.

(I will learn about and practice good conservation of soil, waters, forests, minerals, grasslands, wildlife and energy. I will urge others to do the same.)

As the troop committee chair for hubby's Scout troop, I strive to live by this whenever I'm out and about in the great outdoors.  In my humble opinion, it all boils down to what I learned as a 7 year old Brownie:  Leave a place cleaner than you found it!

Trees and grief

It's been seven months since my mother passed away; yet the grief feels worse now than on the day she died.  The holiday season was a challenge for me this year, far more of one than I anticipated it might be.  My temper has been shorter than usual the past few months; not good, even knowing that I'm not the most patient woman in the world.  To that end I've been doing a grief counseling program online through our church.  

While logically I know Mom is in a far better place, I think much of my current misery includes feeling like we didn't have the entertaining screwball she could be (singing songs like "Raggmopp" at the drop of a hat, or telling stories about her youth and of herself and Dad when they first met) for more of her 84+ years.  Mom was sadly impacted by dementia long before she moved into the facility where she spent the last 5 1/2 years of her life.  I've wondered occasionally whether my parents' move away from their familiar surroundings and culture in the Northeast to a Southern state they barely knew, where they didn't have many friends, exacerbated her mental demise.

Today hubby is working on one of the few "Honey Do" list items he didn't get to while off for a month; cutting down a diseased pink dogwood tree in our front yard.  Sadly, it does need to be removed (dogwoods are one of my favorite trees, and were my mom's as well), but it reminded me of a moment that happened just after my ninth birthday.  The lot beside our house had just become a construction site of the home for our neighbors.  Mom & Margaret were chatting outside and Mom mentioned there is a beautiful dogwood tree on their property in the hopes that they wouldn't cut it down.  Margaret hadn't yet noticed it, but acknowledged her own fondness for dogwoods, then asked which tree it was (it wasn't blooming yet, this being March in Connecticut!)  As I recall, I scurried down the hill between our two houses and stood under the tree in question so there would be no doubt as to which one to keep.  Margaret ensured that her husband and the work crews never touched that tree.  Her family no longer lives there, but the last time I visited New Fairfield in 2021, the tree appeared to still be standing.  😹  I'd like to think that Mom and Margaret are still enjoying that tree from Heaven.

Fresh Air & Sunsine

Friday.  Sunny, in the 40s.  Headed to the Y just after my other half left for work & programmed the electronic stationary bike for a 20 minute fat burn instead of my usual 30 minute, 10k scenic ride in some location I've not yet visited around the world.  Done with that & feeling accomplished, I needed to stretch, but the Y being what it is (overcrowded with new members in early January), I went off to search the neighborhood for a place to stretch in fresh air.

The playground nearest my house is located inside Swan Lake Iris Gardens, and is seldom occupied before 11:00 a.m.  So I navigated a meandering S-shaped balance beam, stretched my legs against an upright of a swing set, and concluded my fresh air workout with some yoga warrior poses on a former tennis court before heading home to dismantle Christmas in the yard.

Right now our inflatable snowman & nativity scene are both up and drying in the sun; my plan is to put them away for the year later today (when they are, ideally, dry!).  Tomorrow's project is to get the stepladder out & remove the Christmas lights from our palm tree, but the ladder is so heavy, I need help getting it where it needs to be for that purpose.

The Next Right Thing

Advice given by a rock troll in a Disney movie is seldom, if ever, taken seriously--until it turns out to be 100% right.

It took almost seven months after my mom's passing for me to admit that I need time to process my anger & grief about her death.  In fairness to myself, I'd already been grieving for a very long time that dementia robbed my family of her, & robbed her of many rewarding experiences!  Her medical/mental state deprived her of the full enjoyment of such things as:

*the childhoods of her three youngest grandchildren

*the weddings of her two eldest grandchildren (even though she attended both)

*the high school & college graduations of her second granddaughter

*ANY of that granddaughter's term as Grand Worthy Advisor (a HUGE deal--my parents met through Masonic youth activities & Dad later became Worthy Grand Patron, with Mom traveling at his side!)

*the births of her great granddaughter & great grandson

So now that she has been gone for the past seven months, I find myself tasked with doing "the next right thing," as Kristen Bell sang in Frozen II.  The right thing for ME is, to focus...on ME.

Wish I had a granite troll to talk to right about now...I could use some time in my native part of the country, stroking moss on a rock (even though it'd never come to life & give me advice like Pabbie!).

Nouvelle Annee

Dimanche le 1 Janvier 2023

Une annee gravide avec possibilites et potentielle!

Nouvelles habitudes pour moi cette annee!

J'accept tous les changements et les travailles.

Yes, I decided I'd exercise my long-neglected skill of crafting poetry in French!  English translation below:

New Year

Sunday the first of January 2023

A year pregnant with possibilities and potential!

New habits for me this year!

I accept all the changes and the work(s).