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practicing as a new Apple gal

Luck… oh how I wish it found me in lottery winnings, but have a few Irish friends and more than a few friends with Irish in them… so I am lucky enough!

What took me to you today, beyond the luck of friendship and family, is the annual contemplation of a credit card. Okay don’t laugh, and surely don’t try to find the connection. Zero connection at the surface level. Maybe by the completion of the blog, I will have found a connection?

Each year American Express hits me with the annual fee. It ain’t cheap, surely not the mac daddy fee that Platinum card holders pay, just the joe schmo price of admission fee. But each year I rail, what the hell, what’s wrong with this equation, blah blah blah, and pay it.

This year, maybe Marie Kondo and sparking “Joy” was in my head, maybe being more forward thinking was in my head, who knows, but I did not pay it. Payed the charges; I’m nothing if not a good citizen to the credit structure, I charge, I pay, but did not pay the fee. I’ll show that damn AMEX… and the thing does not expire until Dec 2024!!

Just received my latest bill, of course they zapped me with a late charge. Hah, go pound sand AMEX, as soon as I figure out how to move monthly EZ Pass charge that sits on this card, I’m done with you!! I pulled the card out of my wallet. And then I noticed.

Member since 1989.

Damn it AMEX. I was immediately in memories, 35 years ago, working for a law firm, the only credit card in my wallet… Sears.
Ps – good old Sears, loved them for taking a chance on me. I was the original chucklehead who associated checks in the checkbook with money in the bank… oh honey, no, hard no. Checks = Pretend. Money=Money.

American Express took a chance on me too. And I was learned soul who did not mess with the AMEX model, charge today but pay it ALL at the end of the month. A friendly loan if needed, but only until the end of the month. And then the jig (circling back to that Irish!) is up, pay the teller.

1989… the start of, the end of, all part of my history. A financial planner would not like me anthropomorphizing a credit card. Is that the right use of that word? But that card and its annoying fee does indeed spark Joy so I’ve met the Marie Kondo test?!

Tomorrow I will call AMEX, ask them to waive their late fee, in exchange I will pay their maniacal annual fee, and we’ll dance on for another year.

Good Spring tidings. Talk soon.

Hope to see you along the way.

An old friend is having serious cancer surgery today, it is weighing heavy on my mind. What is she feeling this morning? She has a family she is devoted to and they to her, what goes through the brain? Her path forward has a path, that’s good news, but not without treatment that includes a chemo wash. Don’t google, it sounds awful.

On the flip side, for the first time ever I will be a godparent this weekend. My niece’s daughter, my great niece (?) needed someone with paperwork. Yes, laugh aloud as my friend Susan says. I am not a trusted advisor, a dear member of their family posse, but more so… I got paperwork. Was baptized, confirmed, married in the Catholic church so my religious cred is good. Or something like that.

Couple those two events/thoughts with, January, and you have contemplative me. New year, new look at life, new hope, opportunity.

Scrolled through some old posts, not much has changed. Still want to challenge myself to write more, learn more (Spanish!!! Hola!!), do more, see “stuff” for pete’s sake. And those are all within me to do. So let’s get going.

Talk soon.

Hope to see you along the way

So I have a basket of masks, a passel of masks, a shit ton of masks… what do I do with them? Do I toss? Is that bad karma?

I was/am not anti-mask should the need arise, just not a fan. Never got to the “don’t even notice I have it on” phase that people described during the pandemic.

My instinct is to chuck ’em. And let the karma be positive and on we go, not tempting the fates or acting with false bravado!

That said, if pandemic type conditions return, feel free to blame me for hubris.

As a thought I googled 2nd hand uses. Super clever people are doing super creative projects per pinterest, so I cut the bands, will wash, and donate. Best I got, ’cause we know I ain’t handy!!

Wherever you’re doing your laundry,

Hope to see you along the way..

No, not a sexual exploit to detail, far more mundane. It’s mid May, time to fold up and put away the sweaters and pull out the summer duds.

As I’ve acknowledged on more than one occasion, I’m a fan of anthropomorphism. No need to reach for your Merriam-Webster if you’re not familiar; its the attribution of human characteristics or behavior to a god, animal, or object. In my case it occurs primarily with animals (though its almost an insult to animals) and objects. Gods and me wave to one another periodically but that’s about it. So mostly objects.

During the bi-annual pull out and put away, there’s a lot of “anthropomorphing” going on. I bid adieu to the cold weather clothes, maybe say a small prayer (okay okay summon them there Gods) that we are both around in October to greet one another. There is a thank you for their service, apologies to any of them who did not get a good rotation, a promise for a re-look next season. And with that a crisp tight fold and into the put away bin they go.

Full disclosure, some do not make the journey. To those loyal friends there is a remembrance of the wear times, or possibly a recollection of opportunities missed, due to shape, size, or worst – bad positioning in the closet.

If we’re going Donny and Marie, the put away is the “twilight side of the hill” portion of the song.

And then there is Marie’s “morning side of the mountain”. As a summer gal, one who loves the morning, and would rather sweat than shiver, this is a happy time. 5 possibly 6 months are on the horizon – opportunities to bond with shorts and sundresses abound, but…

The conversation begins, hola cute top, is this the summer I lose the pudge and do you justice? Or maybe lose the inhibitions and just say fuck it, your style will carry us both. To relegate you to the back of the closet is just stupid.

And like the friends that don’t make the journey to the put away, some end their journey on the initial pull out. They don’t actually make it to the closet. Instead they go on to the home of slimmer, younger, sometimes braver, sometimes equally zany body via donation. And some are weary, they ask to be released of further service, no more bodies, but maybe hang around for a bit as a cotton wash cloth. As much as possible I try to accommodate

Whether a pull out or a put away, the process involves hope. Hope for what is immediately possible, hope for forward looking events. Hope can’t cure all, but it ain’t bad in your arsenal.

Lastly, this year, we had a rare occurrence, a find during the put away. Mr. Purple Smithwick had been pining for months for Mrs. Smithwick. He knew she had not left on her own accord, something nefarious had happened, but he too held out hope for her return. And there in the folds of a flannel sheet being readied for the put away, the Mrs. was discovered.

And for a moment, all was right in the land of Pull Out and Put Away.

Talk soon

Hope to see you along the way

As promised, my report on hot yoga.

Loved the heat, loved the teacher. But yoga is still a bridge too far for me. Full transparency, much of that bridge is my own drama. Blah blah, have the wrong clothes, have the wrong look, have the inability to understand the zen. And what is not bs drama, is aptitude – good god gertie I have the flexibility of wood, and zero ability to understand directions on the fly.

In the other classes I can camouflage most of my spaz; in that quiet little sweaty yoga room, not so much. Even my mat was squeechy and squeaky.

Wait wait, back up, start from the beginning. I walk into “the studio” clanking weights, music, gym sounds fade away – quieter chatter rules, and by my tally everyone is 5′ 9″, 119lbs, and lithe. Not even a little bit true, but I’ve had years of practice with this flawed system of observation. So me and my garage oil mat I mean yoga mat look to escape to the back of the class – a trick known by all wishing to escape notice. Well damn it, the front becomes the back sometimes in yoga land. Strike One.

Strike Two – I could not hear, no no not the instructor’s fault, actual ear mechanics – almost fully deaf now in one ear and not great in the other – so even if I could put one hand behind, flip into a side plank and come out a crocodile on the other side, I could not hear her direction. Holy fuck I think she was saying dragonfly not crocodile…

Strike Three – Disruptive me. We all pay the gym fees, we all have a right to the classes, but do I want to be the jackwagon spaz disrupting the class? As mentioned, very quickly there was a lot of squeaky mat happening, and everyone facing one way, and me facing the other way chasing that damn elusive crocodile pose. But how do you leave a yoga class and not be disruptive?

Lovely teacher to the rescue – whatever she sensed, she nipped it in the bud. She came over, and I whispered (or at least I hope I did), this is a train wreck I’m going to grab my map and go.

And she said, No. No, this is your time, do something, find something in the pose or the directions that you can do, and do it. And so I did. And I tip my hat to that wonderful professional. We all start somewhere and even if yoga does not become my thing, it was an hour that I appreciated and just “did something” and I would have found an out if she had not come to my rescue.

Side note funny, walked out with a lady who said, “that’s a one and done for me” – and when I asked why, said I loved it in spite of my “limitations” – she said “too hot”. I laughed, we’re all batshit crazy am I right?

To quote the old ’60’s phrase, “Keep On Keeping On” and I hope to see you along the way.

I smell like chlorine, and that’s a good thing! Have been chasing the Lake George swim challenge. X number of miles in X number of days. All very attainable unless you procrastinate. Hello, please call me Procrastinator Plus. Queen of talk, less royal on action. Down to 4 days and have 5.5 miles to go. Oooph, my muscles and maybe mostly my tendons are screaming. But I am determined, and next year hoping that at least one of my swims will be in the actual Lake George.

Talk soon

Hope to see you along the way~~~~

Picked up my mail today. Have a home address but also have a P.O. from years ago that I’ve never given up.

Peeked in this evening and saw 2 letters! Have no expectation of responses to letters I am sending but it was fun nevertheless to see mail with real stamps. Spoiler alert, one letter was a return, IA, Insufficent Address. Don’t fret, I’m chasing that address down as I liked my letter hahaha and I like the friend. The other letter has to wait, my treat for posting.

Been a little over 2 weeks, fun so far, and every day a “reason” presents itself. Birthdays, celebrations, and even a letter to an author of a book I finished and LOVED. Likelihood of that letter hitting the mark is slim, but that’s okay, fun to write it.

Okay – gotta run.

Hope to see you along the way.