From This Day Forward

I read somewhere (or maybe I heard it) that the older we get the harder it is to drop unwanted pounds. Why must I exhibit the verification of that theory???? After several weeks of careful eating with a little exercise (I know ten minutes every few days is NOT enough) no pounds are gone. Mind you I avoid the scale like the plaque since the set upstairs never ever agrees with the one downstairs and if you move either of them just a hair, the number varies even more. Thinking small changes might have the desired effect and yet observing not even a tiny affect on the fit of my jeans, my fears were confirmed at the obligatory stand on the scales at the doc's office last week. Yup..I gained two pounds in just over six weeks since the visit to my primary doc. Probably cannot blame it on the different scales...my mismatched gadgets at home comparitively are reaching the same conclusion.

Yesterday was spent in a flurry of activity to find homes for various clutter in my house...climbing and bending is exercise...right. Searched multiple cookbooks and the internet looking for a "steak oscar" recipe worthy of my effort, then veared off to the weight loss plans and reduced calorie recipes. Eventually decided to just steam the asparagus and serve it alongside a chicken dish with tortellini. Bernaise sauce seemed like a lot of trouble and I didn't have any tarragon vinegar or time to infuse any. Frustrated, I went to bed last night with a new resolution. I will right this gluttonous ship by writing down every bite in my mouth and keeping a diary of my daily exercise...three minuts of ladder climbing followed by two minutes burrowing to the back of the linen closet does not equal five minutes of exercise. Not sure who made that rule, but I am destined to follow it. Only bonifide stretch prefaced and steady movement exercise will reach the catalog. Cooking and recipe searches do not count either.

Roots

Last week I journeyed down my mountain and up another to find my ancestral ties.  Two cousins agreed to join me in the search.  We share a common pair of great grandparents, our parents were first cousins.  Does that make us cousins twice removed or thrice? No matter, we each grew up in very different circumstances with paths that bear little similarity, still a thread of commonality remains.  Actually I would call it more of a strong rope or steel cable.  Childhood memories are always fun to dredge up when one reaches a certain age.  Locating the landscape where the events occurred is sometimes a little more difficult.  Cousin 1 has remained in the county of our roots all her life, married a hometown boy and raised her children there. Cousin 2 stayed in state, married a boy from the capital city and raised their children in the central river country.  As you may know, I left the hills and grew up on the plains of Texas marrying a native and raising my native Texan children in several parts of that state. A favorite spot from all our childhood days included a cliffside cave with a strange green growth around it.  We loved climbing around the cliffs and following the trail down to the overhang to eat a picnic lunch or make up wild tales about outlaws and renegades.  Back then, the cliff overlooked a pretty little valley with a winding river running through the bottom.  Trucks traveling along the roads below looked like tiny matchbox vehicles and we made up stories about what they might be transporting...like chocolate bunnies for Easter or straw hats for summer.

We set out certain of our destination.  A short way up the mountain each of us at one time muttered the phrase "this just doesn't look quite right", but continued on in spite of confusion.  After several false turns on roads that should not have been, we finally called 1's son for help.  His instruction was to turn left on the first road after somewhere and go down to a road that had a gate that could not be opened, but could be driven around.  Follow that road down to a fork and take the one that isn't all washed out.  Sounded like a good plan, except we had just been down that road.  We started looking for another road that went around a gate and alas only that one met the description. After following a cowpath named like a road down the mountain and taking advantage of the only wide spot to turn around, we grudgingly returned to infamous road that went around the gate. Previously noting that the road appeared to go down at the fork at a steeper grade, we were sure this couldn't be it. The cave was at one of the highest points on the mountain in our memories...we just couldn't go down to get to it. 2 and I followed one road and 1 followed the other and Viola!..they met about a hundred yards down the hill and we could clearly see our destination ahead.

A lake covers the valley below now and the view is still absolutely beautiful. Not one of us had the nerve to take the trail down through "fat man's squeeze" as the narrow place on the trail to the cave under the cliff was called. Still we took photos of one another atop the cliff just to prove we found it and shared happy tales of childhood. Later we shared lunch without sand or bugs in a sandwich shop up the road. It was a wonderful day! (more to follow)
 

Above it All

One afternoon last week we were down near the river and spotted an eagle's nest in a tree on the cliff. Little eaglet heads were peeking out from the nest and we couldn't resist the urge to stop and spy on them through binoculars. I had my camera with me and attempted to get a photo...alas, my telephoto lens has serious limitations (really need a stronger camera). The area around the lake and river are known nesting areas for our national bird, and we host an "eagle awareness" event each year in January. These magnificent birds of prey are fascinating. The population seems to be increasing in the area and we celebrate the fact. As we watched, a parent flew to the nest and brought nourishment to the young ones, then spread those huge wings and took flight. What a sight! If only I could have captured it on film...it is beautifully etched in my memory for the moment. Photos allow the memory to purge any time, yet return to the forefront on command.

Loss

A call last night brought the dreaded news I had expected for several years. My cousin, Pat died quickly yesterday. Her struggle to live had been long and painful and nothing any of us would have wanted for her. She was a beautiful young girl nine years my senior and oh so cool in my childhood memories. When I was in elementary school, she was loving all the in-crowd activities of high school. She wore poodle skirts, danced the bop and went boat riding on the lake with her friends and no parents. She transitioned into a glamorous young mother with the cutest, sweetest little girl. They would drive up in the little white corvair with Ka-Ka (daughter Karen) exiting in her little red coat and cap, and again I was so proud to claim a familial relationship. We never lived in the same city again after those few years, but occasional visits and phone calls allowed the connection to continue. Our parents were siblings and each died much too young. In later years we would remember them and laugh about their quirks. She was my link to that bit of nostalgia. Now that link has passed on and I will miss her so.

Pig Dreams

I slept well last night. Dreams were very vivid. The lead character in my dream was in a storybook I was reading to some unknown children (wonder if the "unknown" is significant"). He was a crusty looking warthog wearing little round reading glasses. Can't really remember much more detail from the dream...they are elusive like that. No doubt though about the inspiration for my character. A day or two ago a neighbor and I were discussing one of the trophies in her husband's "Africa Room". He's a studious looking warthog (the trophy, not the husband) and I asked her if he had a name, to which she replied "No, but he probably should...I name everything else". Must've bothered me that the poor fellow didn't have a name because all that was particularly clear in my dream was Sir Wugsly Warthog as a daringly studious pig in the midst of other creatures without a care for knowledge. Miss Piggy, I am certain would be impressed with his clear insight into the pigish condition. I really must go find out if my neighbor has named her pig on the wall yet.

Age Defying

A good friend only slightly younger but much more agile than me had the nerve to forward a video today. I love to watch the YouTube videos. Often they provide thought provoking information, and some are clever performances by pets. Today's offering made my jaw drop and my hips hurt. An 87 year old woman Salsa dancing, and I don't mean a few little steps. I watched as she spun and shook around the dance floor in full rhythm and spunky speed to the Latin rhythms. The performance was just over 4 minutes, longer than I can walk in place, let alone spin and swirl and click my high heels. I would need CPR. Despite the fact that I have bought new walking shoes and secumbed to the four legged critter's demands for multiple outings, I was totally mortified by the woman claiming to be older than my own dear Mammy acting perkier than I have felt in twenty years. Friend titled the missive "Me in a few years-haha". Does that mean she was kidding...or being facetious? I prefer to think she was laughing with delightful anticipation of her advancing years...You Go Girl!

New Shoes

Anticipation has been building for weeks around here. A new shoe store has had it's shingle out along with big banners in the window promising to "Open Soon" for several weeks. Yesterday's paper included a coupon and partial list of special prices along with a "Now Open" banner on the page. At breakfast yesterday I managed to one up the sis-in-law with news she didn't have yet. Uptown Shoe Store is open for business. Her surprise was only trumped by my delight in giving her news as yet unknown to her. We have a bit of that friendly competition in our family here on the mountain. It's always best to know the latest first. Brother and Ol' Abner were both unimpressed with the news, but what do they know with that limited male perspective.

Today, Sis-in-Law called to see if I wanted to ride over to the big town for a little shoe shopping. Actually, it was more a matter of "how soon 'til you can be ready??. We left old Abner adding to the back deck and Brother camped in front of the TV. Now as a girl true to Dogpatch, my Daisy Mae size feet aren't so easy to fit. I always need the largest size in the ladies department and sometimes larger than anything in the ladies department. It is often a source of great irritation when shopping for athletic shoes and the sales person suggests I buy a MAN's shoe. Beyond me why anyone would think my feet would even want to walk like a man. I may be tall, but I'm just not equipped like the male species and my feet don't walk the same. If you can't understand that...there's no point trying to explain. Uptown shoe store is known for it's wide selection of hard to find sizes and my mission was successful. Almost every shoe I liked was available in my size. Oh decisions, decisions...! I cleaned out my closet and bagged eleven pair of barely worn shoes last week. Old Abner saw no reason to replace them, thus exhibiting his manly lack of knowledge regarding shoes. I returned home with fantastic tales of sandals, slides, loafers, peep toe pumps, casual flats, strappy wedges and dancing shoes. There were flip-flops, vans, jumping shoes, running shoes and walking shoes of every color and style...oh let my feet sing!! He was unimpressed with my details and rather relieved that only two pair made their way home with me. I will have to make another trip soon, the manager told me additional stock arriving next week will double the selection currently on display. Better clean out some more old shoes.