To the Max

My brother and his wife were stunned when, at age 46, they were told they were going to be parents for the second time. 

Their first-born, at 13, was also stunned to hear the news she was going to become a sister.

Fortunately, it was Max who made his appearance, so everyone was cool. (Even though my brother grimaced when he took Max for his first haircut and the barber called him "grandpa.")

Here we are, 18 years later, and Max is graduating from high school. Through the wonder that is Facebook, I've been able to follow him on his adventures through scouting, music and high school. Through photos and stories, it's been possible to know Max better, even though he lives in a different city and I only see him once a year or so. It is surprising that so much can be told through a social media device that mostly features pictures of cats and dogs and squirrels and people doing ridiculous things.

Thanks for allowing me to "friend" you, Maxwell. I'm proud to be called your aunt. And I look forward to following you through college and beyond to the someday when you are also called "meteorologist."

As long as you're on Facebook, I'll be there with you, come rain or shine!

Off Topic

I get my inspiration from many sources. Books, music, newspapers, happenings in my life and national something-or-other day.

The light bulb is not on today.

Today, I'm thinking about the events of the past week and crossing off the topics one by one. Too serious. Too work-related. Too awful.

So I decided to go to Facebook and see if I could become inspired there. I guess there are folks who could be sparked by a video of a happy dog getting a bath. This just didn't work for me. (Although I do want to go back and read the article about why cats feel the need to accompany you to the bathroom.)

I was glad about the marriage equality vote passing in Ireland. The final episode of Mad Men was entertaining and bittersweet. Enjoyed some pics from my favorite photographer from Japan, Takahiro Yamamoto. Made a mental note to go back and re-read John Steinbeck's Winter of Our Discontent, listen to Girl from Ipanema and watch some old George Carlin routines. 

Still, there were no stand-out topics I wanted to broach today. So, rather than forcing things, I'm giving my loyal readers a day off. I hope you enjoy your three days away from the office/school/daily grind and do something that makes you feel great.

As for me, it's my turn to scoop the poop and hang with my buddies at the cat shelter. So therapeutic. And a special announcement for all of you who also live and breathe the printed word: Half Price Books is having a 20% off sale.

So you know where Mr. and I will be!
 

Judy, Judy, Judy

There are people who drift into your life, have a major impact, then drift out again.

One such person in my life left this world May 11th. I hadn't seen Judy in many years. But when I read the death notice in the newspaper, I began to revisit those years when she was so important to me.

Judy lived across the street from my childhood home. In my teens, I babysat her daughter while Judy attended night classes at the local university and when she dated. She was a divorced mom at a time when it was more acceptable to stay in an unhappy marriage. I always admired that she took the right road, not the easy one.

After I graduated from high school, Judy got me a job at the general contracting firm where she worked in the accounting department. Watching Mad Men, I've often thought about Judy. She experienced a lot of the crap women had to endure in an office dominated by men. One in particular insisted on calling her "doll." One of my favorite lines of hers was, "Please don't call me a doll. A doll is a stuffed dummy. I am not a stuffed dummy." The women in the office were secretaries or bookkeepers, but never account managers. In another day and age, Judy could easily have done the work the men did. She was a smart cookie. Eventually, she earned her degree, became a CPA and moved on.

There were so many lessons I learned from Judy, about life and the working world, during our late night chats and in the car as we drove to work together.

Judy was at my first wedding, and I was at her second. After I got divorced, we drifted apart, and I didn't see her again. But I never forgot her. She was my mentor, my life line and my friend at a time when all were in short supply.

I hope Judy is at peace. She knew how to live and love well. I have no doubt that she is a welcome addition to the next world, too.

 "Bye-bye, buy bonds, save chicken fat and join the WACs."

The Eyes Have It

This is the time of year when routine doctor appointments pop up like whack-a-moles.

Maybe it's because I try to schedule them when there's not 10 inches of snow outside. Also, the appointments take me away from work, and it's nice to be out and about in the warm weather. And yes, it's a little sad when you'd rather have someone poking around your innards than be at work.

In any case, this week's winner was the eye doctor. Well, not him specifically. Once a year I have to go to his office for two procedures. In the first, the technician takes a picture of my optic nerve. (I've been tempted to ask her if I can have one to post on Facebook.) For the other test, I sit in front of  screen with a patch over one eye (arrrrr) and a clicker in my right hand, force myself to stare straight ahead, and click every time time I see a spot of light. (Come to think of it, a photo in this get-up might be the better Facebook play.)

While enduring these procedures is annoying, it's a good sight better than no sight at all. So, I stare straight ahead, refrain from blinking and click when necessary.

If I'm lucky, I'll never get glaucoma. Cataracts, on the other hand, are unavoidable. The cool thing is, I live in an age where the doctor can make pictures of my optic nerve and know exactly what's going on inside my head. Scary for him, maybe. But a blessing for me.

As I type this, I look up through the glasses that keep the world in sharp focus. And, although I'm a Luddite at heart, I take a moment to appreciate the modern world and all of its wonders.

Well, maybe not ALL of its wonders. (Do we really need an Apple Watch?) But the medical variety can be pretty amazing.

Java Jive

I love coffee, I love tea, I love the java jive and it loves me...

So croon the Ink Spots, in their come-hither way, making the nectar of the gods sound even more delectable.

If that's possible.

I love my coffee. Cream and sugar, please. They have a mini-Starbucks at work, which I sometimes frequented. But once they got the Keurig machine in our area, that was all she wrote. That's when I discovered Gevalia's Mocha Latte. It has become my go-to drink post-lunch. I open the little packet of mystery stuff, dump it in my mug, load the K-cup, and press the button. Then the magic happens. It sizzles and crackles and makes a cup of pure heaven. So many people have asked me what I'm drinking, I should get a commission.

Of course, like most folks, I wasn't born loving coffee. Many moons ago at my first office job, drinking coffee was de rigueur, and I wanted to fit in, and so it began. There was actually a time when I gave up coffee altogether. I don't remember why I started drinking it again. But here I am. And here my coffee is. It wakes me up. It keeps me going. And when I get the jitters, I know it's time to stop. (Two cups is my limit.)

There's a certain irony in the fact that my son works at Dunkin' Donuts. And that it has paid for a good chunk of his college. So, you see, coffee really is good.

Waiter, waiter, percolator...