Almost the new 30

Today, I turned 39 years old.  I keep hearing that 60 (years old) is the new 40.  By extension, some say that 40 is the new 30.  That's fine with me.  I will be the old 40 or the new 30 or whatever, as long as I don't have to go through my 20's again.  They sucked.  I was in a toxic relationship, 60 pounds overweight, and didn't know how to stand up for myself.  I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life or how to make anything good happen.  Miserable stuff. I am much happier now.  Please don't make me go back.  Some people pine for their "youth" and don't want to grow up.  I embrace it.  I feel more alive now than I ever did then.  I think I look better, too, if I do say so myself.  Next year, maybe we'll have a big party when I turn 40, or the new 30, or whatever.  I can't wait.

Make a decision, please!

I was in a department store the other day trying to buy a few things. I was not in a hurry per se, but I needed to return to work at some point. I could have accomplished all my tasks in a much shorter period of time had I not entangled myself in this trite, bordering on insanity decision-making process that always goes on in my head. First, I went to pick out a belt for Eddie. All he wanted was a black belt, silver buckle, size 34 waist-- one that he could wear with his work clothes or more casually with shorts. Not exactly detailed criteria. Anyway, I find the rack of belts. I could ignore all the brown ones and the ones with gold buckles. I started going through the black ones. Wrong size, buckle too big, belt too wide. Oh, wait, here is one that has the right sized buckle, black leather, size 34 waist. Perfect. Great. Walk away. Nope. Not so fast. Instead of taking the belt and going on my merry way, I continued to look through the belts to make sure there wasn't a better size 34 waist black belt with a silver buckle. This went on for several minutes before I walked away with the same belt I picked out in the first place.

Then, I went to women's lingerie. They had underwear on sale-- 3 for $21 or something like that. It was a brand I liked, so I started to look through the underwear. I have to pick out 3 pairs. Do I want beige, black, yellow or this nice rose color? I have to wade through the thong and bikini styles to find the hi-cut style. Or, should I get the hipster style? Oh, they don't have it in my size in that nice rose color. I finally find 3 pairs that I like. Perfect. Great. Walk away. Nope. I see another display with another brand that uses organic cotton and bamboo. I want to try that. That's a nice purple and a nice blue. Oh dear, I can't find 3 pairs. Then, I realized that I probably had enough underwear at home already, so I put the 3 pairs back and went on.

Next, the baby department. No, not for me, for our next door neighbor and one of my tennis teammates. Both are having boys, both have a girl already. So, they need boy clothes, right? Because that's what we do with babies right? Boys have to wear blue, girls pink. They can't use hand-me downs. Since my neighbor and my teammate don't know each other, I could get them the same thing and save some time. Yeah, right. I looked at toys, blankets, stuffed animals. No, keep looking. Three racks stuffed to the gills with baby clothes on clearance. Here we go. I found a couple of cute outfits. Perfect. Great. Walk away. Nope. I kept looking to see if I could find anything cuter (because they would know if I didn't). Finally, I settled on two outfits for each. I guess I'm done with shopping. No, wait, there were those shoes that I saw in the ad. Oh, you sold out of the size 10s? Hmm, maybe there is a pair sort of like it around here some place. Let me try these on. No, those won't work. Aaaaaaaaggggghhhhhh!

Obviously, I eventually made it out of the store and back to work. On the ride back, I kept asking why I insist on tormenting myself in this manner. I guess I just want things to be perfect. Good answer. Great. Walk away. Now.

We're baaaaaaack!

Eddie and I have returned from a delightful trip to Eureka Springs, Arkansas and Avon, Minnesota. In Eureka Springs, we stayed at the historic Basin Park hotel right in the middle of town. Supposedly, there are ghosts in the building, but if they were around that weekend, they did not bother us. The hotel was creaky and the bathrooms were tiny, but what character. Plus, when you walked out the front door, you were in the middle of town with interesting shops and restaurants in every direction. We didn't really buy anything though, just walked around a lot. (The store owners love that). On Thursday evening, we met up with the youth group from my church and went to see the Great Passion Play. It was a really good show, but it started to pour down rain during the crucifixion. There were two crashes of thunder/lightning-- one that was part of the show, one that wasn't. They cancelled the rest of the show after the latter. Luckily, we had ponchos with us, so we didn't get soaked. On Friday (July 4), we had to check out of the Basin Park Hotel and moved to the Bavarian Inn, where the lodging had a certain charm, but the real draw was the food at the German/Czech restaurant on site. Mmmmmmmm. We had cream of sauerkraut soup, bratwurst with pork strips (Eddie), sauerkraut, potato pancakes and some other cabbage variation. The next morning, they had blueberry coffee cake (from the restaurant) for the guests to eat for breakfast. Mmmmmmm.

After the blueberry coffee cake, we hit the road to Minnesota. The purpose of the trip was twofold: to ride bicycles on the Wobegon Regional Trail and to help Mark & Katrina clean up/throw out/box up/get ready to move fully to Alaska. We accomplished both, but I think the biking was more successful. I don't think our couple of days worth of work put much of a dent in the moving process. At least we were there to lend some moral support. Yeah, that's it-- moral support. Katrina and 2 of the kids went back to Alaska while we were there. Mark and the other two kids, a bunch of stuff and Biggie the St. Bernard, followed by Mal & Chris, will make the trek by car in a couple of weeks. Sheesh. I know how long the process can take. Before our wedding, Eddie and I purged and moved out a bunch of stuff from my house to get it ready for the realtor to show. While we were on the honeymoon, Mal & Chris did several projects for us. When we got back, I spent about a week going through more stuff and getting it moved over to the new place. It took several months to go through everything and integrate my stuff with Eddie's stuff and the weddding gifts and purge some more. Then, about a year or so after that, I went through the attic and organized and purged again. All of that took place for a move across town. Their move is so much more complicated. But, maybe we helped some. I know we had a great time biking the trail. We even brought a bicycle back with us-- one less thing for them!

Oh, isn't this just lovely

I see this gem on my way to work in the morning-- the giant billboard with an advertisement to purchase a gas-guzzling SUV. Nice.

Two sweet years

Well, today is the day of our second wedding anniversary. Woo hoo! I don't know if I would say that time has flown by-- it has been more like floating-- like a canoe softly and easily floating down the river-- and then careening over a waterfall (just kidding about that last part). We have had such fun together. We've traveled to Poland, taken a road trip across the country, made important decisions at Bosco's, watched a lot of tennis and laughed a lot along the way (except at that bus station in Opatow). And yes, we have even played mixed doubles together. We haven't tried ballroom dancing or a kitchen renovation yet, but if we do, I am sure it will be fine. I just couldn't ask for anything more-- except many, many more years like these.

There might be a story here

The other day, I left the tennis center to run some errands during lunchtime. The center is located in a residential area, but on a collector street that carries a fair amount of traffic. I had not accelerated much after pulling out of the parking lot, and it was probably a good thing. As I approached the first cross street, a man with no shirt was running barefoot at full speed, holding his jeans up with one hand (even though he had a belt). He did not look either direction before he went tearing across the main road into the distance. Never broke stride. What on earth was going on? I ruled out that his house was on fire, because he could have tried to stop one of the cars or run down the collector street to the police sub-station. Was he having a rendezvous with someone he should not have been and was discovered? Was he just locked out of his house and needed to get to work? I guess we will never know. But, I still wonder.

A couple of days later, in Midtown, I saw a guy walking down the street playing a guitar. Maybe there is not much mystery there (actually pretty normal for Midtown), but it made me wonder again about all the people there are in this world and all the different stories there must be on any given day. I only caught a glimpse of two.

Getting in a car changes a person

I was thinking about what I wanted to write about next, when Eddie came up with this gem. We were in the car on our way out of town and everyone was zooming by us or cutting in front of us. I asked rhetorically why there were so many jerks on the road and where did they all have to be in such a hurry, and Eddie replied with a sigh-- "Well, getting into a car seems to change a person." I thought about it for a moment. Maybe it is true. Back when I was commuting long distances to work, yelling (even screaming) at other drivers was a daily occurrence. I don't yell any other time, though (except maybe on the tennis court). I am basically a quiet, gentle person. But, in a car and in traffic, a certain aggressiveness takes over. Maybe the shield of sheet metal around us and our relative anonymity on the road makes us think we can get away with this sort of behavior. It shouldn't. What is the rush, anyway? Do people think that weaving in and out of traffic and not letting people other people merge on to the highway is really going to save them that much time? Is where you have to go so much more important than everyone else that it is okay to risk everyone else's safety by running a red light or pulling out in front of another car? Unless you have sirens and lights flashing on top of your car, I would suspect not.

Also, have you noticed how often there is an inverse relationship between the size of the person and the size of the vehicle? Our neighbors across the street have. They told us one time how they are amused by how Eddie and I (the six-footers) get into our two-door Volkswagens every day while our 5'6" neighbors get into their hulking SUV and full-size crew cab pickup truck. Come to think of it, I do see a lot of little women behind the wheel of some very large SUVs and some pretty big dudes on motorcycles. Are we trying to be something we are not through our cars? Or, is it sometimes dead on? I remember one day not long after I had purchased the GTI. It was parked next to Eddie's car on the street. He looked outside and said, "you know, the Volkswagens look pretty good together." I stood beside him and looked at the beige (blond) easygoing VW Beetle and the black (brunette) racy VW GTI and said with a smile, "yeah, they sure do."