Hubbie and I started ballroom dancing classes last week. In my wildest dreams, I never thought we'd be doing this...at least, I never thought my husband would agree to do it.
A few months ago, at the beauty salon, one of the hairdressers remarked that she and her husband had been having a blast taking dance lessons.
"You and your husband should try it," she said.
"There's no way I could drag him to it," I announced, emphatically. In the 27 years we've been married, when he was called upon to do it, he very reluctantly took the dance floor...and then only when the music was slow enough that it required a simple sway-step-sway movement.
Later that day, I relayed the conversation to Hubbie. "You know," he said, "I've always wanted to learn to dance."
What!!?
"Well, I just never had the opportunity to learn in the small community where I grew up, but I've always wanted to be able to dance."
Knock me over with a feather! Okay!! I've always loved to dance, but was resigned to not doing much of it with Hubbie.
I immediately called the dance studio and arranged to get us into the next eight-week class. I got us in just under the wire, as the last couple to register in the only class with one opening left. He was surprised, but pleased, to get the lessons as one of his Christmas gifts.
He was a little nervous at our first session, but warmed to it as the class went along. It helped that there are at least two other couples in our age-range attending the class. It also helped that we weren't the only couple stumbling our way through the session, a lesson on the basic four- steps-square that serves for waltz, tango, and foxtrot.
We've practiced at home a couple of times, but we are awaiting an online order of music CDs suited to ballroom dancing to really get into it.
Watch out "Dancing with the Stars!"
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Sixty-Something Can be Sobering
To keep from shopping for greeting cards one-by-one as events arise, I buy them by the stack...mainly birthday, that I stow away in a special file drawer. If I didn't do it this way, I'd be shopping for cards several times a month to satisfy the over 60 family and friends birthdays listed on our calendar.
For the past three or four years, though, I've found I have to include sympathy cards in my stack. This year, I bought a half a dozen, based on the number of friends and family who passed away last year.
Being sixty-something can be sobering. Every day, the newspaper obits seem to list just about as many folks who died in their sixties as those who made it to their seventies and eighties. I have a few more years of my sixties left yet, but it's a tenuous grip, I know, before I fall kicking and screaming into my seventies.
My father lived into his eighties, and my mother will pass the mid-mark of her eighties this year, so I'm trusting that I've inherited their strong genes. Certainly, I'd like to live many more years, but only if I can be healthy, active, and productive. To that end, my part will be to continue monitoring my diet, keep up my exercise regimen, heed my physician's advice, challenge my brain, do useful work, and involve myself in the community.
After that, it is, prayerfully, in God's hands.
For the past three or four years, though, I've found I have to include sympathy cards in my stack. This year, I bought a half a dozen, based on the number of friends and family who passed away last year.
Being sixty-something can be sobering. Every day, the newspaper obits seem to list just about as many folks who died in their sixties as those who made it to their seventies and eighties. I have a few more years of my sixties left yet, but it's a tenuous grip, I know, before I fall kicking and screaming into my seventies.
My father lived into his eighties, and my mother will pass the mid-mark of her eighties this year, so I'm trusting that I've inherited their strong genes. Certainly, I'd like to live many more years, but only if I can be healthy, active, and productive. To that end, my part will be to continue monitoring my diet, keep up my exercise regimen, heed my physician's advice, challenge my brain, do useful work, and involve myself in the community.
After that, it is, prayerfully, in God's hands.
Another Sixty-Something Birthday
Sis and I, who are ten years and ten days apart in age, celebrated birthdays this month. She spent the week with us recently, and we enjoyed our favorite meals, shopping, visiting the art gallery, working jigsaw puzzles with Mother, and playing card games (Hubbie included).
My son and daughter-in-law joined us on Saturday of that week. Sis was here long enough to visit with them before she had to return home after lunch. Son and daughter-in-law stayed overnight. Daughter-in-law loves jigsaw puzzles, too, so we completed another couple of 500-piece ones during the weekend.
When we had completed the second one on Sunday morning, Mother, an avid jigsaw puzzler, admitted that she had finally OD'd on them. We'd worked about 12 of them between Christmas and this weekend.
Saturday evening, we played Michigan Rummy, at daughter-in-law's request. She beat the socks off us, taking large pots of chips at the king and queen of hearts, and the 7-8-9 of any suit, that had built up after a couple of hours of playing.
Daughter-in-law had also been looking forward to a session in the hot tub, but Hubbie discovered that the tub isn't heating as it should. Disappointment. Don't know when the tub can be repaired, since the closest business that works on them is a couple of hours away, and budget-conscious Hubbie asked that a repairman come and check it when he's in this area again, rather than make a special, charged-to-us trip.
Despite the hot tub glitch, it was a pleasant, restful week.
My son and daughter-in-law joined us on Saturday of that week. Sis was here long enough to visit with them before she had to return home after lunch. Son and daughter-in-law stayed overnight. Daughter-in-law loves jigsaw puzzles, too, so we completed another couple of 500-piece ones during the weekend.
When we had completed the second one on Sunday morning, Mother, an avid jigsaw puzzler, admitted that she had finally OD'd on them. We'd worked about 12 of them between Christmas and this weekend.
Saturday evening, we played Michigan Rummy, at daughter-in-law's request. She beat the socks off us, taking large pots of chips at the king and queen of hearts, and the 7-8-9 of any suit, that had built up after a couple of hours of playing.
Daughter-in-law had also been looking forward to a session in the hot tub, but Hubbie discovered that the tub isn't heating as it should. Disappointment. Don't know when the tub can be repaired, since the closest business that works on them is a couple of hours away, and budget-conscious Hubbie asked that a repairman come and check it when he's in this area again, rather than make a special, charged-to-us trip.
Despite the hot tub glitch, it was a pleasant, restful week.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Out of the Mouths of Babes
Over the weekend, we attended the visitation and funeral of a dear friend of my husband. At the visitation, the great-great-great niece of the deceased, a chatty ten-year-old named Skye (but who wants to change it to Zoe), stopped to talk to my stepdaughter and me.
"A lot of my relatives are here," she commented, looking around the room. "The only time I get to see them is when there is a funeral."
Families lead such diverse and busy lives, and often live so far away, that sometimes the only event that draws them together is a funeral. Once gathered, though, family and friends use this brief time to get reacquainted and to reminisce. There is heartbreak and tears at a visitation and funeral, but there is also laughter and fellowship, so that folks can return home strengthened by the support of extended family, and the steadfastness of friends.
What better tribute to the loved one who drew them together?
"A lot of my relatives are here," she commented, looking around the room. "The only time I get to see them is when there is a funeral."
Families lead such diverse and busy lives, and often live so far away, that sometimes the only event that draws them together is a funeral. Once gathered, though, family and friends use this brief time to get reacquainted and to reminisce. There is heartbreak and tears at a visitation and funeral, but there is also laughter and fellowship, so that folks can return home strengthened by the support of extended family, and the steadfastness of friends.
What better tribute to the loved one who drew them together?
Thursday, January 3, 2008
The I-Feel-Icky Season
Right in the middle of Christmas festivities, I came down with a...a what? A cold? A flu bug? A sinus problem? I don't know. I just know I was blah, with a runny nose. I soldiered on, though, and didn't miss any of the events. I suppose I should have stayed home so as not to pass my malady on to others, but I didn't. And I noticed others didn't either, because there was a lot of sneezing and blowing going on at every gathering.
That's the thing about this vague condition. It's not severe enough to shut down the business of life, but it is annoying enough to make the infected person feel like he or she is dragging 100 lb. weights around, while progressing through the day in slow motion.
To my knowledge, there's no scientific name for the illness...I call it the "galloping croup," or the "creeping crud." A friend has an even more expressive name for it...the "epizooties." Whatever it's name, it's common at this time of year, and while hand washing and other hygienic acts may help, nothing completely keeps it at bay. At our house, we all seem to come down with at least one episode of it each winter. Already, I've suffered two in the past several months, so I hope it's out of my system.
Mother is just recovering from her bout, but Hubbie is in the throes of one...his being severe enough to require a doctor's attention. Hopefully, the prescribed meds will clear it up.
That's the thing about this vague condition. It's not severe enough to shut down the business of life, but it is annoying enough to make the infected person feel like he or she is dragging 100 lb. weights around, while progressing through the day in slow motion.
To my knowledge, there's no scientific name for the illness...I call it the "galloping croup," or the "creeping crud." A friend has an even more expressive name for it...the "epizooties." Whatever it's name, it's common at this time of year, and while hand washing and other hygienic acts may help, nothing completely keeps it at bay. At our house, we all seem to come down with at least one episode of it each winter. Already, I've suffered two in the past several months, so I hope it's out of my system.
Mother is just recovering from her bout, but Hubbie is in the throes of one...his being severe enough to require a doctor's attention. Hopefully, the prescribed meds will clear it up.
New Year's Day
New Year's Day was another quiet day around here. Lunch was delicious...ham, a cinnamon-seasoned and baked dish of sweet potatoes and acorn squash, black eyed peas for good luck, asparagus, deviled eggs, and fruit salad, with a cherry topped cream cheese pie for dessert.
New Year's Day is our day to take down the Christmas decorations. I have mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, decorating took so long that it's sad to have to say goodbye to the trees, the ornaments, the wreathes, and all the other bright bric-a-brac of Christmas. On the other hand, after five weeks, it's time to get our house back in order...time to put away last year and get on with the business of the new year.
As mentioned in an earlier blog, though, I do leave the ceramic village on the mantel through January, since the pieces are more winter-themed than Christmas-themed. The lighted houses, barns, churches, etc., set among puffs of cotton batting, are cheery on cold, gray days.
2007 was a mixed bag of goals achieved, goals not yet attained, challenges faced, births, deaths, and farewells. It will be interesting to see how 2008 unfolds.
New Year's Day is our day to take down the Christmas decorations. I have mixed emotions about it. On the one hand, decorating took so long that it's sad to have to say goodbye to the trees, the ornaments, the wreathes, and all the other bright bric-a-brac of Christmas. On the other hand, after five weeks, it's time to get our house back in order...time to put away last year and get on with the business of the new year.
As mentioned in an earlier blog, though, I do leave the ceramic village on the mantel through January, since the pieces are more winter-themed than Christmas-themed. The lighted houses, barns, churches, etc., set among puffs of cotton batting, are cheery on cold, gray days.
2007 was a mixed bag of goals achieved, goals not yet attained, challenges faced, births, deaths, and farewells. It will be interesting to see how 2008 unfolds.
New Year's Eve
New Year's Eve at our house is as quiet as Christmas Eve. It has been years since Hubbie and I attended a New Year's Eve party, and we're glad, because we don't enjoy them. Invariably, at public parties, we found the music too loud, the attendees too raucus, and the champagne served up at midnight too nearly resembling the taste of shoe polish (or what I imagine shoe polish to taste like). Private parties were somewhat better, though we yearned for home way ahead of the midnight hour.
So, at home, Hubbie, Mother, and I entertain ourselves with a game, snacks, and watching "Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve" on TV. Our preferred game for New Year's Eve is Michigan Rummy, which we have modified a bit to suit ourselves. For instance, we use regulation size poker chips, instead of those tiny ones that came with the game. Each person is assigned 100 chips at the start of the game. And of course we use jumbo cards, with easy-to-see large numbers and suit symbols.
We play until someone wins one of the big pots, so full that overflowing chips are consigned to a cereal bowl...those pots are usually the king and queen of hearts, and the 7-8-9 of any suit. This time, Hubbie and Mother kept the king and queen of hearts cleared out, but the 7-8-9 pot grew and grew. I got the king and queen of hearts only once, when the pot held a measly four chips.
In fact, I barely stayed in the game, having almost depleted my chips stash early on. Near the end of the game, I didn't even have enough chips to add to all the pots, but Hubbie and Mother took pity on me and let me play anyway.
Michigan Rummy is a game that Mother usually wins, and this time was no exception. Just as the midnight hour approached, after playing since around 7 p.m., she laid out a 7-8-9 of one of the suits and took that pot of chips, which hadn't been won since Hubbie won it about an hour into the game.
Up to that point, we wondered if we would have to just quit the game and declare Hubbie the winner, since he'd garnered more chips than Mother. I, with no chips left, was the clear loser, of course.
Game ended, we watched the ball come down in Times Square, and toasted the New Year with glasses of Golden Spumante...may it be a peaceful one for all of us.
So, at home, Hubbie, Mother, and I entertain ourselves with a game, snacks, and watching "Dick Clark's Rockin' Eve" on TV. Our preferred game for New Year's Eve is Michigan Rummy, which we have modified a bit to suit ourselves. For instance, we use regulation size poker chips, instead of those tiny ones that came with the game. Each person is assigned 100 chips at the start of the game. And of course we use jumbo cards, with easy-to-see large numbers and suit symbols.
We play until someone wins one of the big pots, so full that overflowing chips are consigned to a cereal bowl...those pots are usually the king and queen of hearts, and the 7-8-9 of any suit. This time, Hubbie and Mother kept the king and queen of hearts cleared out, but the 7-8-9 pot grew and grew. I got the king and queen of hearts only once, when the pot held a measly four chips.
In fact, I barely stayed in the game, having almost depleted my chips stash early on. Near the end of the game, I didn't even have enough chips to add to all the pots, but Hubbie and Mother took pity on me and let me play anyway.
Michigan Rummy is a game that Mother usually wins, and this time was no exception. Just as the midnight hour approached, after playing since around 7 p.m., she laid out a 7-8-9 of one of the suits and took that pot of chips, which hadn't been won since Hubbie won it about an hour into the game.
Up to that point, we wondered if we would have to just quit the game and declare Hubbie the winner, since he'd garnered more chips than Mother. I, with no chips left, was the clear loser, of course.
Game ended, we watched the ball come down in Times Square, and toasted the New Year with glasses of Golden Spumante...may it be a peaceful one for all of us.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)