Sweating

The last six months have been very busy for me. At times quite stressful.

The weekend of my daughter’s high school graduation (she graduated on the Friday) seemed especially busy. My husband was preparing to fly back to India on the Sunday with Thumper (the infamous canine) in cargo. We were worried about the mutt. And doing a bunch of last minute things.

We drove them to the airport (an hour from our home) hours earlier than the flight to ensure all paperwork in order.

It was hot. But it’s always hot in Malaysia.

And I was sweating. But I was always sweating in Malaysia.

Had to rush home from the airport because a friend was in from Australia and we needed to meet a group for dinner.

It was rush, rush and rush.

Got home but no time for a shower. What to do?

Brushed my hair and put it up in a clip. Some lip color.

I stunk. Just being honest. So I grabbed a face cloth and soap and cleaned under my arms.

Because I smelled like a person who had labored all day in the Malaysian heat without deodorant. For the record I do wear deodorant. Sometimes it fails me. In Malaysia.

At least I’m aware of it.

Hightailed it out of the house with my daughters and our friends who lived two doors down to meet up with our visiting friends at an Indian restaurant in the city.

It ended up being a lovely evening. The young folks went home right after dinner. My daughters had an early flight out in the morning. My friend and I went with the visitors for a couple of drinks after dinner.

Not a late night.

Arrived home and readied myself for bed. Now, thankfully, I only smelled like Indian food and wine.

My eldest, who sleeps with me when she’s at home and my husband is not, mumbled a few words like, “How was it?”

I took that as my cue for conversation.

She’s not always a fan. Because I’m sometimes pillow to pillow, “Remember your friend, Melissa, from second grade? Whatever happened to her?” and the like.

So I said, “Was a good night with the friends.”

And then continued conversing.

She said, “Not tonight, Mom. Early flight tomorrow.”

Totally respected that and snuggled into my pillow for a good night’s sleep.

Few minutes later I hear, “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“When we came back from airport did you shower?” she asked.

“No! You know I didn’t have time for that. Had to get downtown. I just cleaned under my arms with soap and water.”

She continued, “With the face cloth that’s on the sink?”

“Yup.”

“Oh.”

Okay, I laughed out loud even though I was nearly in slumber town. Couldn’t help myself.  Total belly laugh.

I said, “I’m going to blog about this one day.”

She replied, “Be more embarrassing for you though.”

I retorted, “Not really. It was my face cloth. Who uses someone else’s face cloth????”

Wishing you all a fun weekend! With a belly laugh or two! I promise to be better at updating the blog!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Using Up Stuff

I am preparing for another move in June. So I’m starting to clear things out of the house.

Little by little.

And also trying to use up things instead of just tossing them.

I’ve written about this same thing back in 2009 when I was preparing for a move so this is totally not a new Mary phenomenon.

My eldest daughter is home and she is a big proponent of “using up stuff.” As I am. It’s like a contest for her.

Youngest daughter and husband not so much.

My house sounds wacky if one were to hear the exclamations.

Used up the bucket of chia seeds! Yes!!!

We are making dishes to include many things purchased in the past for just one recipe.

Cans of beets gone. Who bought those anyway?

No more aromatic sticks. Check.

Starting to pull out the candles.

Working on the bottles of salad dressing.

Slowly using up the products. The tubs of moisturizers, little jars of airline perfumes, hair oils and face masks.

The other day, I said to my youngest, “Jeepers, I smell like a bordello!”

I put out my hand, while driving her to school, to give her a little squeeze. She sort of backed away and was wiping her hands.

I was like, “What???”

She said, “It’s just a little greasy.”

I laughed and said, “I know. I can hardly put on my clothes in the morning.”

In the end there will be re-gifting and many donations. But for now I am just using up stuff.

Even if it’s April.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Fox

The first time I ever saw a red fox in the wild was after my Dad died two years ago.

I was with my brothers and we spent the day together-just the three of us- visiting the Cape. My father loved the Cape and so did we. We went to all the usual old haunts. Spent hours reminiscing, laughing and talking about Dad.

We were heading to the beach on the “other side” as we called it. My oldest brother saw it walking through the marshland in a residential area.

Dad and the boys would have seen a fox before because they spent a lot of time on golf courses. I was 50 years old and had never seen one in the wild.

I texted my sister-in-law who is into animal spirit sightings and symbolism. She said something like the fox is representing us as we navigate obstacles, decisions or difficulties. I no longer have the actual text or photo since my phone got swiped.

Found this in a google search.

You may be called to take action in a way that shows your adaptability and ability to move quickly through obstacles and resistance.

Well, that was true because we had a lot of things to take care of after Dad died. It was all new to us.

Why would I be thinking about a fox today?

Couple of evenings ago I was in a local Malaysian neighborhood on my way to visit someone who had just been released from the hospital. As I was walking to the house I saw a big cage with an animal in it on someone’s patio.

The people were just doing normal things one does in a patio. Watering plants, sweeping the ground, etc.

I approached these people and asked, “What’s that in the cage?”

The man said, “It’s a fox.”

I replied, “Really??”

Didn’t look like a fox to me.

He said, “Yes, it’s a fox.”

Okay then. It’s a fox.

I asked lots of questions.

Where did you get it? Kuantan.

Is it nice?  Like can you pet it? Well, it bites.

How old was it when you got it? Five days old.

Did it have siblings? Don’t know.

And on and on. LOL

fox1fox2fox3

I never saw a fox that looked like this guy. LOL. So I’m not totally buying it but I will surely take the sighting symbolism just the same.

You may be called to take action in a way that shows your adaptability and ability to move quickly through obstacles and resistance.

Sometimes it is hard for folks to move quickly when faced with things that are challenging.

If there are currently obstacles and resistance in your life I honestly wish you adaptability and the ability to move through them very quickly. Fox sighting or not!

 

It’s my eighth anniversary of writing this blog! Amazing how the time does fly. Super amazing how many changes also took place during that time.

Apologies for not writing in awhile. It’s that whole time flying by thing.

A friend’s recent status on Facebook was, “Tell me something good.”

I thought the actual phrase, which I hadn’t heard used as a greeting in quite some time, was already something good.

Anyway, the response was fabulous. “I’m going to be a grandmother.” “The sun is out and the windows are open!” “I’m up and moving!” and many more. It was nice to read and see that people could immediately respond with something good.

We all know there are plenty of Facebook statuses that do not elicit good or positive responses. Especially lately.

Yesterday, I was in a hospital elevator. One that has no motion sensor so I get knocked in the upper arms on a daily basis if I’m not careful.

A fellow pushes a steel cart on to the elevator while I make sure the doors don’t shut on him.

I figured he was a florist because both trays on the cart were laden with gorgeous flowers, balloons and presents.

Of course, I have to engage in conversation.

I ask, “Wow! All those for one person?”

He smiled and said, “Yes.”

Then I spied the writing on one of the balloons. “Baby Girl!”

I said, “Awwww, a baby girl.”

He says with a huge smile, “Yes, my fifth.”

“Oh, she’s yours!!!! Five girls?”

“Fourth girl.”

I congratulated him, chatted and wished him the best.

Went down to the lobby and got my parking ticket validated and was walking by the front doors and see a little, swaddled baby in a clear, plastic bassinet on wheels. Looked like a pink burrito.

And she was just precious. Three days old. The mom is there in a wheelchair waiting for a car to pick them up. I see all the gifts that I had just seen on the elevator.

“Congratulations! I just met your husband in the elevator. She’s soooo beautiful.Bless you all!”

We chatted for awhile about the delivery and how she was feeling.

She looked so positively radiant. And it made me happy.

That was something good.

 

Reading

It’s that time again.

When colleges or universities attempt to somehow know the applicant a little better. With their prompt questions. If you were a tree what type of tree would you be?

Okay, maybe not that exactly.

But sometimes there are the questions like, “Which book impacted your life?”

 

I am thinking I might say, “All of them.”

If it were me  (and it’s not)  I would be ready to list all of the books that had some impact on my life.

Then I thought, “It’s not the books.”

It’s being able to read the books. Being able to read anything at all.

My mother-in-law, who is living with me at the moment, is ninety years old.

And illiterate.

She has raised literate and successful children. But she came from a place and time where the education of young women was an option for parents. And as we all know parents can sometimes be a crap shoot.

If you are reading this right now do you realize the gift you have?

You can read the street sign. The map. You do not have to rely on others for your menu choices at a restaurant. You are able to read the newspaper. Help your child with their homework. You are able to fill out the arrival information on your plane trip.

Imagine not being able to read.  For a second.

The folks at the college admissions might need to rethink their questions.

Maybe something like, “How has reading impacted your life?”

Forget the books.

 

 

 

Gifts of the Season

It’s that wonderful time of the year. Good will and good cheer!

And sometimes a bit awkward. The whole gift giving thing.

What’s the first thing we think of when we receive an unexpected present from a friend or neighbor during the holidays?

Not, “Isn’t this wonderful!” but more like,”OH NO, I didn’t get them a gift!”

We feel bad. Maybe a little thoughtless. Not sure why we are programmed in this way.

But what we really need to remember is that most of those people who are giving the gifts are acting without expectation.

Accept the gift graciously and thankfully. And then let it go.

Which leads me to another aspect of gift giving.

Thoughtfulness.

Have you ever attended a White Elephant gift exchange or a Yankee Swap party?

It’s a game where everyone brings a wrapped gift. Something that they’ve found hanging around the house or in the back of a closet. Because it’s unwanted. Might be really nice or kind of wacky but mostly unwanted. There’s a numbered system and also a “stealing” component.The results can be hysterical and entertaining. No one knows who brought what gift.

I recently attended one in my neighborhood. Chatting with the woman beside me while she secretly pointed out the gift she brought to the party. It was a lovely frame that her mother had given her.

She said, “I’m like, Mum, have you ever visited my home? That frame doesn’t match a thing! What were you thinking?”

I laughed because it’s so true.

When choosing a gift are we being mindful? Is it what they would really enjoy or is it what we like or think would be best for the recipient? It can be tricky. Our intentions are, no doubt, always good. But if we are thinking more about us than them then don’t be surprised if it’s wrapped up for next year’s White Elephant party.

This season I wish you all graciousness, thankfulness and acceptance of the many gifts you will receive. Material gifts and the ones that truly matter.

Act without expectation and don’t forget to throw in a bunch of thoughtfulness.

 

 

 

Gleaned

Who doesn’t like to sit down and read a good thriller?

Sometimes you wonder where on earth the authors find their source of inspiration for a plot. And yet, sometimes you don’t have to wonder at all.

Just read the newspaper. Or listen to the radio.

Many wonderful books have been written on subjects gleaned from the daily rag. Or from the wireless.

Don’t have to be a genius to know that.

For instance, take John Grisham’s legal thriller, “The Associate.”

His plot was partly based on a rape case that took place on a university campus in the 1980s.

Many of you have probably heard about the case because it was a bit unusual.

The victim, in real life, was a young and innocent seventeen year old. Top of her high school class, from a NYC suburb and the first in her family to attend college. She was drugged and gang raped by frat boys at her first campus party about five weeks after leaving home. A party she did not want to attend but a dorm mate was interested in joining the fraternity. He was not openly gay at the time and needed a date. Or a beard as they say.

This woman’s mother is a first cousin of my Dad’s first cousins. I don’t know her and never would have met her. Two different families.

So this young girl, wakes up after the night of raping, and finds she is covered in bruises and bloody sheets. Goes to the university clinic. Can’t help her. Sees the university officials. Won’t help her. Said not a police matter but a school matter. But offer to transfer her. One of the assailants said it was consensual but he soon transferred out of the school.

I stated that the case was a bit unusual. Back then drugging might not have been commonplace. I don’t know enough about that to really comment. But what was unusual was what happened many years later.

Twenty years later she receives a letter. From the rapist. Wanting to make amends. Wants forgiveness. He is in an Alcoholics Anonymous program and is working one of his steps. He admits that he caused her great harm.

Whoa.

She goes to the police. This man knows where she lives. She finds out later that the university alumni office gave him her current address.

They told her that a case like that would have always been under their jurisdiction and not the university’s.

The police reopen the investigation. The man is sentenced to ten years in prison. Served a full six months. It was also revealed that she was, in fact, gang raped but there wasn’t enough evidence to bring the other rapists to justice.

Whoa.

This is not a story you read every day.