Memories of the Heart Blog

Another successful Mother’s Day has come and gone. I guess what that mostly means is that after all is said and done I am still a mother with a child and we’re still speaking but it was better than that. It was fun. Today my daughter and her friend are cleaning my house as a gift. Score! No, really, it’s wonderful and I am so grateful.

I got a new camera for Mother’s Day. My old camera has a broken lens cover and discards a random 1/4 of the photos I take so this will be a welcome change. I don’t think it will take much work to figure out how to point and shoot a new one, since I don’t really do anything more complicated than that. Although there are a couple of things that worry me. The new camera automatically finds and focuses on people’s faces. This tells me that if I take a picture of scenery with a person anywhere in it I will have permanent records of strangers’ faces as opposed to the grandeur of the mountains or beaches behind them. Not only that, the smile timer shoots automatically when the subject smiles, so every stranger in my photos will look happy, no matter how fleeting a grimace it may be that crosses their face. The blink proof feature automatically takes two pictures and saves the one in which the subject’s eyes are open so each stranger will look alert. Oh, and the in-camera red eye fix repairs red-eyes while shooting. This will come in handy at my family gatherings when people have been sucking up wine all evening.

I can’t wait to practice with my new camera! In the meantime, this is what my dresser looks like as shot from my bed.

I’m beginning to suspect that I’m not the best leader of the pack. I’ve been reading Cesar Milan’s magazine and watching some of his television shows and he’s the greatest. I admire what he does. But as I look at my pack leading skills I realize I need a lot of training.

My pack consists of two dogs, a collie named Sophie and a beagle named Spencer. It first came to my attention that I was having a problem when I couldn’t stop Spencer from dragging kleenex from the bathroom wastebasket onto the carpet. (We’ve had Spencer for a couple of years and this has always been a problem). I tried. “Spencer, I don’t want you to do that,” I would say. “Tell him No! He doesn’t understand what you’re saying,” my husband would suggest (and still does). “He doesn’t know what No means either,” I respond. Spencer has a mind of his own. He doesn’t mind being scolded a little if he gets to do what he wants. Well, to avoid any disciplinary action I got a taller wastebasket. Problem solved. I realized that part of the problem is that I’m probably not smart enough to be a dog owner.

Then there’s the issue of whether or not the dogs will ever go outside. Every now and then they actually have to go to the bathroom and they ask. And they’re mostly outside when we’re gone, which isn’t very much. Other than that, they pretty much want to be in the house with us. But sometimes I feel like they should get some exercise (Spencer weighs almost as much as Sophie, he always has) so I say, “Everybody out.” And the dogs look at me. At least they give me that much. They don’t get up, mind you. “Everybody out,” I say again. Nothing. Then I start to sound like a tired parent who doesn’t want to stand up to correct their child. “Everybody out! Everybody out! EVERYBODY OUT!”

Eventually they will go out but by then my good mood has been tested and I’m very glad I’m not raising small children.

The other thing is that they beg for a treat every morning when I sit down at my computer. Well behaved dogs shouldn’t beg. They should wait for a signal from the pack leader. But my dogs sit and stare at me or whine at me or jump around until I get the message and give them their treats. But we have come to an understanding. They only get treats once (or twice) a day and that’s it. I mean it. That’s the only thing that saves me. I control all the food.

I realize that my dogs and I have an agreement. They will be loving, friendly, congenial and mostly well behaved and I won’t put any real pressure on them. Which means I’m not putting any real pressure on myself. Thank goodness I have such nice dogs or they would be running the show even more than they are. At least now I get to be the facilitator of our little group. But that’s okay. It works for us.

Darn it, I can hear Spencer dragging trash out of the bedroom wastebasket.

This is my Toyota Camry, which I love, sitting quietly in a parking spot. It looks ready to go, doesn’t it? Appearances are deceiving.

These are the car keys that my five-year-old grandson locked in my car. “Grandma, it was an accident!” So he says. My one extra key is an hour away.

This is the coat hanger that my son-in-law heroically used to try to open my car. A valiant effort, to no avail.

This is where the picture should be of the Auto Club hero who came and unlocked my car. He came and left so quickly, like the Lone Ranger or Zorro, that there was no time to get a picture.

This is me standing next to my freed vehicle, ready to take off to do important things.

By the way, no children were harmed during this event. It was a test of patience, and my son-in-law and myself passed beautifully. We kept smiling, with nary an angry word or look. At the same time, I believe my grandson has learned that it would be counterproductive to lock the keys in the car again, if only because of the level of boredom experienced while waiting for Auto Club.

All the same, I think I’ll take a little trip to the Toyota dealer next week and get a couple of keys made.

Hi. I’ve been gone for a week but I’m back and am ready to write some new blog posts.

Last week I was in Phoenix and my friend and I went to Build-A-Bear. At Build-A-Bear you choose the fabric skin of an animal to be stuffed, not necessarily a bear. They take a small, red heart that you hold over your heart for a moment and put that inside the bear (or whatever). You can purchase a voice box and record your voice so when someone presses the bear’s hand the message is played. Then they stuff the bear and stitch it up. There are lots of clothes you can buy for your animals and it’s a really neat place.

While I was there, I thought about how special it was that anyone at all can assemble a friend for someone and have the voice saying something friendly and comforting, like “I love you and I miss you”. Then I realized that I could build my own ideal friend. I could choose an animal that I relate to, sort of like a Native American totem animal. Their heart would be like my heart since it was my heart that went into it. The message would be exactly what I wanted to hear since I would record it myself. I could make it a message from the universe. Maybe “You are beautiful inside and out,” or “All your wishes are coming true,” or “You have an abundance of money”.

I could frame the statements as “I” statements, like “I am an extremely creative person,” but I’m not sure I could remember to repeat it. I might just be fooled into thinking that I had an extremely creative stuffed animal. Although that would be pretty good – I might pick up some pointers.

Anyway, next time I feel down in the dumps I will go to Build-A-Bear and stuff myself a new best friend.

I’m at my friend Jane’s house in Phoenix today. As I was driving over I started thinking about the ins and outs of visiting people. I’ve been looking forward to this trip, and I’ve known Jane since I was five and she’s wonderful so I’m very confortable at her house, but it’s still a transition to go from my life at home to here. For one thing, when I drive away from home my husband and the two dogs look after me with sad looks on their faces. (Well, not actually the dogs because they don’t know what’s going on but my husband has a sad face.)

Mostly visiting is fun. First of all, there is the rule that everybody has to be pleasant. Both the host and the guest are on their best behavior so the few annoying things Jane did when we were kids are completely wiped out (just kidding). She is gracious and welcoming and makes everything flow easily for me. For my part, I appreciate everything she does and her house is pretty and I say so and I’m nice to her husband (who’s also great). It’s a mutual admiration society.

Secondly, no matter what I do she thinks it’s terrific. I offered to make dinner tonight and she happily accepted. In her view I’m going above and beyond to do that, whereas at home it’s just business as usual. Actually I’m lying about that because my husband does almost all of the cooking and he couldn’t believe that I was going to cook for somebody else and not for him.

It’s tempting to stay here a long time but I’m pretty sure I would get on her nerves after a while and she would finally get over her politeness enough to ask me to leave. So I’ll stay a few days and then head home, knowing that at the end of the road is a happy-faced husband and two excited dogs.

As I was driving around lately I’ve noticed flowers that only grow in the spring.

This is a plant that grows around an old windmill on the dirt road leading to my house. Most of the year the plant looks dead but every spring it sprouts beautiful purple flowers that last about three weeks. I am thrilled by this every year.

The last couple of day my dad and I were out in Borrego Springs, CA (where my netbook wouldn’t accept wifi so there was no blogging from there). On the way our eyes were drawn to beds of flowers. They bloom on the desert in Southern California in the spring for a month or two or maybe even three and then the heat wipes them out and they’re gone until the next spring.

That got me thinking about other things I look forward to that only happen once a year. The first thing I thought of was that magical two weeks in June where the stores are still selling bathing suits and, at the same time, I actually am ready to buy one. Of course, this is just a mental exercise because I haven’t bought one yet but I think this is the year. I’m still wearing the same one I did when I was thirty and it’s seriously too small.

I always look forward to the day the kids go back to school. I’m not sure why, I don’t have children living at home, but it still fills me with a sense of relief on behalf of all parents everywhere.

Christmas Day is a good one. All the events are over, all the presents are given, we’ve seen the family and kids and grandkids and it’s just a matter of my husband and I lying around looking at our presents and doing nothing. I really start looking forward to this about December 15. It’s also my signal to listen to  music other than Christmas music as that is all I allow myself to listen to from the day after Thanksgiving to Christmas Day evening. Why? I don’t really know.

Every month I look forward to the day I get my Crafts Report magazine. It always focuses on crafters and artists that create things in their studios. I am terribly jealous of this and keep trying to think of something I could make that would let me call a room in my house a studio. I do make the photo DVD’s but I do that in an office/sitting room, although they are artistic. I also make soap and hand salve but they’re not really studio items. One day, one day.

And so the year goes. I will spend the next day remembering other times of the year that I appreciate particularly, and maybe even think about creating an event that qualifies. The one thing I know, my event won’t include wearing a bathing suit.

This is the wishing well at my doctor’s office. Every time I leave the office I throw in a quarter and make a wish. I realize that it’s a fountain but I no longer see it that way. It’s now my ticket to good fortune.

Why a quarter, you ask? Why not a penny or a nickel or a dime? Frankly, I think my wishes are worth a quarter. I would be giving it less than my all to put in a lesser coin. And I don’t want to insult the wishing well.

The other day I was holding my quarter trying to decide what to wish for. My first thought was world peace, because that’s the thing I would most like to have happen. But this isn’t a very big wishing well and I didn’t think it could handle a request like that so I decided to think some more. At this point I felt obligated to review what my nearest and dearest needed. I’m not sure my wishes are strong enough to affect something major but every now and then there is an immediate situation going on and I throw my wish into the mix. But this day I decided that most friends were doing okay and I could keep the wish for myself.

That left many possibilities. I could wish for more money or more business or less stress or more creativity. If I didn’t want to go the more or less route I could wish for chickens or a new friend or to lose weight (although that usually requires some cooperation on my part and I wasn’t sure I was up to that). A friend I once knew said that people could have their wishes if they’d just wish for the same thing every day for a month. That’s a lot of commitment but I was willing to consider it.

At that point I was overwhelmed. I threw the quarter in and asked for guidance and spent the rest of the day choosing a wish that would hold up for a month.

Don’t you wish you knew what it was?

This is a poem my father wrote.

Many things are not for me like horoscopes and E.S.P. Contact with the long since dead leave me cold and filled with dread. Fortune tellers, crystal balls, sticking pins in little dolls? My logic tells me what I need, my intellect is all I heed. Tea leaves are for making tea, the tales they tell are not for me. But one thing that can sure foretell is very real, the wishing well. I’ve tested them from Rome to Spain. I know they know, I can’t explain. I believe in science to be sure, but when it comes to next new year, the year ahead it will foretell, that thing of truth, the wishing well. So save your pennies and you’ll find out what your life is all about. On wishing wells you can rely, they tell the truth, don’t pass them by. My logic has a funny quirk but wishing wells, they really work.

I was thinking about music CD’s the other day. How they’re kind of like life. How is that, you say?

Most CD’s have both excellent songs and okay songs. On most CD’s I’ve listened to there are a few songs that are wonderful and I could pass on the rest.  Sometimes I’d rather not listen to the ones I don’t particularly care about.

It reminds me of my life when I was younger. I had a lot on my to-do list. I worked full time, raised my daughter, was sometimes a wife, cleaned house, cooked, spent time with my extended family and read. A lot of areas but more of a piece than you might think. I was so busy. My life was like a standard CD that had lots of regular songs and a few songs that were incredible.

Then, as my daughter got older, I went back to school and started to form another kind of life. As my life became more varied I began making composite CD’s. I would pick favorite songs and combine them on one disc. Every song was a great song.

But lately I realized that each of my collections fit one genre of music. The discs may contain songs from the 1960’s or country music or jazz but I don’t mix and match styles much. I listen to Arlo Guthrie (those were good days, very good days) and Brad Paisley (“I drank all the fish and caught all the beer”) and Miles Davis (and they call that the blues) and the Doors (you have to have first heard this band as a teenager) but not together. I’m not sure why this is. Is it a mood thing? Do I get so immersed in one segment of my mind that I can’t switch between sections? Am I afraid that my mind will go in too many directions at once and my brain will explode?

Now I have time to think about the person I am, the person I’d like to be and what I’d like to do for the next ten years or so. I find myself trying to live a life made up of my favorite people, places, activities and events. I’m exploring new creative avenues of interest. My life is more eclectic. Anything boring or tedious or ordinary, for that matter, gets left out. My goal is to create a composite life filled with only the best my world has to offer.

So now that I’m so highly evolved (or old and self-absorbed, call it what you will) I think I’m ready for the next musical step. I’m going to make a composite CD with all kinds of music. There will be 50’s music, 60’s music, jazz, country, rock and anything else I can think of that I enjoy. I’m going to bounce around all the different types of songs and see if the combination is distracting or if it opens creative pathways. See if it’s confusing or clarifying. Dizzying or balancing. Confining or liberating.

Stay tuned.

I was reading Seth Godin’s blog a couple of weeks ago and he made me think, as he so often does. Seth Godin blogs about business ideas and is a well-known author and he’s terrific. In the blog post, his first sentences were, “I stumbled on a great typo last night. ‘Staff in the lobby were wondering around…’” Seth went on to do what he does best, relate it to business, but I started thinking about the things I’ve seen and done lately that caused me to feel a sense of wonder.

A few weeks ago I was out with my grandchildren and stopped to feed some ducks at a small lake. Seagulls live at the lake too and they were eating bread along with the ducks. Pretty soon the seagulls did something I’d never seen before. They started hovering in front of my face and catching the bread I threw in midair. They were so close I could have reached out and touched them. (Luckily I’m finally over the awfulness of the movie The Birds. I only felt a little nervous about running out of bread once.) For a short while the cute, hungry little ducks in front of me were forgotten.

Last week my grandchildren and I visited a toy store that carries all wooden toys. Very unusual. The staff invites kids to come in and play and that’s just what my grandson did. He tried everything out that was at his eye level and I could see a sense of wonder in the expressions on his face. Pretty soon I was playing with the toys also and trying to decide if playing at cooking with wooden pots and pans would work better than not cooking at all, which is  my normal state of affairs.

Another recent wondrous thing – when we were at Wild Animal Park I got to see a lion up close and hear him roar. Loudly and scarily. King of the jungle. Leader of the pack. For a few seconds I had a mental picture of what it would be like to face a lion in the jungle. A very primal feeling. Lions are impressive and large and appear to be quite strong, and perhaps not always friendly. In case of a contest, I’m going to pretty much put my money on the lion.

These are just some of my experiences. My granddaughter thinks there is nothing more wonderful and incredible than Johnny Depp. I can understand that. She cried when he came on the screen in Alice of Wonderland. It was just all too much.

I’ve decided I’d like to have what I’m going to call a carousel state of consciousness. This will mean meeting the world with the same fascination that I feel when I’m riding a galloping horse on a carousel (which I also did last week). This may be tougher than I think. We’ll see how I do. That feeling is pretty easy to pull off when I’m gazing at a charming flower or a beautiful sunset, but we’ll really know what I can muster up when I’m at the grocery store, tired, with no makeup on and the delightful little bird on my car decides to poop.

This weekend I am working a craft fair. My daughter and I make soap and hand salve and go to fairs to sell them.  Yesterday the weather was beautiful but today it was windy. Really windy.

I noticed when I got there and the canopies were trying to fly away. We were all standing next to our tents holding the sides down. Luckily our tents are staked down pretty well and held steady.

But as I sat there in the wind I decided to consciously try and make the best of things.  For instance, it wasn’t all bad. My hair was blow dried in about five minutes.

I thought I would open my mind and let all the negativity blow away but the wind pretty much blew all my thoughts away so I just sat there for a while with a blank expression on my face.

Every now and then the wind would die down for a minute and it was quiet and lovely so I thought I would practice being the calm at the center of the storm but what I really did was practice keeping a calm expression on my face in case my canopy did fly away. Some ladies came by to look at our soap and I mentioned to them that I  was the calm center of the storm and one of them said she would at least appreciate being near the calm center even if she couldn’t be the center and I said I pretty much had that job wrapped up.

A high point of my morning was when I went to use the porta-potty and saw in the mirror that my hair was holding up pretty well.

I read Entrepreneur magazine in the afternoon and tried to think of a new business to start. An inside business. At five o’clock I headed home to a cup of hot tea and solid walls. Ah, how quiet and serene.

Tomorrow I’ll go back at ten and do it all again.