The Company

 Until today I had never heard of Big Panda and Tiny Dragon. A quick Google search and now I am excited to discover author and illustrator James Norbury. I will be checking out his work more thoroughly in the coming months.

You can read about James Norbury’s work at www.jamesnorbury.com.

The above quote perfectly captures my “why” in life and why I wanted to make our upcoming trip around the country to visit friends and family. Through the years I have believed with my whole heart that people are connected for a reason. And it is a responsibility we each have to nourish each other in the moments we are together. This can feel effortless or sometimes it can feel like a burden (no pun intended, Ginger).

It is effortless when the people we see have a matching energy, shared beliefs or interests, and the same core values. Even when they are having a bad day, it feels easy to be with them,

It can feel like a burden when people come into our life and they need comfort from us at a time we are also struggling. It can be for us to do a specific job, or they are struggling with their own demons in the moment, or they are worn out and sad. I saw a lot of this happening around me from 2020 through 2022.

My own depletion of energy helped me to decide to retire. I realized I had used up my energy reserves and could no longer serve others in the capacity I wanted to move forward. So, in mid-2021, I  notified the owners that I would retire December 31, 2022.

That year and a half until retirement felt like a long time. What made it doable (and bearable) were the people I worked alongside. People like Barry, Kat, Elizabeth, Tarah, Kacey, Hannah, Kaliela, Mike, Mary, Kristina, Jen, and many others who showed up every day to support each other and their teams. They TOTALLY embraced that in the grand scheme of life we had a responsibility to create the best products we could while taking care of the people who were making it happen.

Retirement has helped me to restore my energy. I love the time with the ‘company’ I keep and the solitude I enjoy while writing each day. Both are essential to my wellbeing.

As Joe and I prepare for our trip to Crescent City and Oregon in nine days, I am looking forward to connecting with the people we will visit.  Then we come back to finish packing up our house and prepare for our big trip across the United States.

 

The Sketch

Today was spent packing up art work we have collected over the years when I came across this sketch of our daughters from October 1999. Megan would have been 7 ½ years old and Lauren would have just turned 13 years old. This sketch was done at Six Flags Amusement Park in Vallejo California during a family outing. Nate would have already been in his second year at U.C. Santa Barbara.

None of us remember this particular day and it was pre-camera phone days or we’d probably have an actual photo or two in our archives. At the time, Joe and I were not the parents who took cameras with us for an excursion. Even today we will come home from visiting someone and not have snapped a photo or two with our cell phones. We will definitely try to change that as we begin our travels.

Megan and Lauren are not biological sisters, we are a blended family. Lauren is Joe’s daughter and Megan was my daughter. When the girls were younger and we would shop together, people would stop and tell them they looked a lot alike. Once Lauren’s mom said to me that she had come across a photo of Megan as a child and it took her a moment to figure out it was Megan and not Lauren.

This sketch does not reflect that Lauren was blonde and Megan’s hair was turning  brown at this age.  The sketch artist captured their eye color, the way their hair waved, and their lip shapes – the dash of color on their lips makes the eye colors pop.

I had forgotten this piece until I cleaned off Joe’s side of the Master Closet. It was tucked away at the back of a shelf. I vacillated on whether to pack it or ask Lauren if she wanted it for any reason. I decided to pack it – I realized I wasn’t ready to give up this one memory I have of the two of them sitting side by side and so excited to have this sketch done. With the age difference, the times when they were this friendly with each other were rare.

It also didn’t help that Megan had become accustomed to her role as “murder victim” when Lauren would have friends over and she, Megan,  wanted to hang out with the older girls. The older girls would tell her they were playing at solving a crime. They didn’t physically hurt Megan – they just told her she had to lay down and pretend to be dead (and she wasn’t allowed to move or talk).

Still Megan adored her ‘older sister’ Lauren. Whatever Lauren planned to do; Megan would excitedly want to do the same activity. Lauren didn’t appreciate the hero worship.

In later years, when both girls had left home, they would get together on occasion to watch movies at Megan’s house. Megan has since moved to Minnesota while Lauren is still here in Woodland.

Thinking back on my own relationship with my sister, I truthfully do not think biology makes the bond automatically stronger. I think of all of my ‘chosen’ sisters and know that I love them deeply.

Yes, I will haul this sketch (in a clear plastic frame) all of the way across the country because in reality it is a reminder of so much more than my two girls on this one day in October of 1999.

 

The Beginning of Goodbyes

One of the activities Joe and I have enjoyed is having small eclectic dinner gatherings over the years. As our preparation for traveling and moving  ramps up in the next 5 weeks, we have begun last ‘get togethers’ with different people. It is bittersweet.

We are excited for upcoming adventures. We are delighted that we will be visiting, and in some cases meeting for the first time, people we have grown fond of and who are scattered all around the United States.

At the same time saying goodbye is difficult. We know we will be able to stay in touch via Facebook, Google Meets, and other online programs. There is a direct flight from Minneapolis to Sacramento and we will come visit. It will be different,

Tonight, was one of our ‘lasts.’ A goodbye dinner with a core group of people who have been part of our Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners over the last 6 years (subtract 2020 we were on COVID restriction) and 6-7 other get togethers each year. We added in Joe’s friend (and best man at our wedding) and his wife who drove up from Morgan Hill today.

After everyone left, as we were cleaning up, it hit me that this was the last planned dinner. We will go out with other friends for breakfast, lunch, or dinner before we leave. As I write this, I feel a bit melancholy at the thought of leaving California and this rich mixture of people we call “friends.” 

-A A Milne (Winnie the Pooh)

Completed Fences Will Make Good Neighbors

Today was ‘tear down the fence’ day. Joe removed part of our fence that we have wanted repaired for the past three years. Our neighbor sharing the fence has been promising to do it for the past three years. He had specific requirements that added substantially to the cost and he and his work buddies were going to ‘get it done.’ Last July we told the neighbor we weren’t going to wait anymore. We got quotes.

The neighbor wanted the posts to be metal that he had already purchased. The fence companies would not guarantee the work with the metal posts. Finally, in January, we told him we were going to have the fence fixed as we were moving. We shared our most recent quote with him. He said he’d do it himself and picked a date of February 19^th. He’s taking a vacation day.

Joe offered to tear down the fence. The neighbor wanted the wood for kindling. Today Joe tore out that fence, removed nails, prepared the land for the new fence. I scribed the old wood to kindling size and Joe cut it with a power saw.

Now our neighbor has no barriers to installing the fence. He sent a picture of the wood for the new fence last night, so we know that he is on schedule for the February 19^th installation.

Worst case scenario is that he ends up having his vacation days cancelled and the fence isn’t done as planned. We are not paying him for our share of the wood until the fence is completed. At this point, I’m counting on his wife to nag him if she wants her backyard privacy. We’ll take all of the help we can get.

Mending Wall

by ROBERT FROST

 

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That sends the frozen-ground-swell under it,

And spills the upper boulders in the sun;

And makes gaps even two can pass abreast.

The work of hunters is another thing:

I have come after them and made repair

Where they have left not one stone on a stone,

But they would have the rabbit out of hiding,

To please the yelping dogs. The gaps I mean,

No one has seen them made or heard them made,

But at spring mending-time we find them there.

I let my neighbor know beyond the hill;

And on a day we meet to walk the line

And set the wall between us once again.

We keep the wall between us as we go.

To each the boulders that have fallen to each.

And some are loaves and some so nearly balls

We have to use a spell to make them balance:

‘Stay where you are until our backs are turned!’

We wear our fingers rough with handling them.

Oh, just another kind of out-door game,

One on a side. It comes to little more:

There where it is we do not need the wall:

He is all pine and I am apple orchard.

My apple trees will never get across

And eat the cones under his pines, I tell him.

He only says, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

Spring is the mischief in me, and I wonder

If I could put a notion in his head:

‘Why do they make good neighbors? Isn't it

Where there are cows? But here there are no cows.

Before I built a wall I'd ask to know

What I was walling in or walling out,

And to whom I was like to give offense.

Something there is that doesn't love a wall,

That wants it down.’ I could say ‘Elves’ to him,

But it's not elves exactly, and I'd rather

He said it for himself. I see him there

Bringing a stone grasped firmly by the top

In each hand, like an old-stone savage armed.

He moves in darkness as it seems to me,

Not of woods only and the shade of trees.

He will not go behind his father's saying,

And he likes having thought of it so well

He says again, ‘Good fences make good neighbors.’

Girl Scout Cookies

It’s Girl Scout cookie sales time again! This is a special time of year for me as Megan loved selling cookies as a  Brownie (Girl Scouts) and we made fun memories.

I sold cookies when I was a girl scout. I remember selling two hundred boxes and I was thrilled! It was from door-to-door sales and nearby relatives. Fast forward some 30 years later and my own daughter was selling cookies. Her first year, I asked her how many boxes she wanted to sell and she told me 800. It was all I could do not to gasp. She was 7 years old and she was going to try to sell 800 boxes? Instead, I kept my mouth shut. Who is going to rain on a 7-year-old’s parade?

She would roller blade from house to house, introduce herself (I stayed on the sidewalk to give her space), and ask if they would like to buy cookies. She rarely got a no because she was so darn cute. She did not participate in site sales as is more common today. She made her goal of eight hundred boxes. Lesson for mom: If you don’t tell a child their goal is too big – they don’t know it’s too big.

This meant a lot of work for our family. Once the cookies came in, we had to retrace our footsteps, deliver all 800 boxes and collect the money. Megan would run up to the door, collect the money, give the customer their cookies, and run the money back to me. I’d check to make sure the check or cash was correct (it always was). Sometimes a customer would give her extra cash or a separate check as a donation to her troop.

The second year of sales her goal was one thousand boxes. It rained every day that year during the two weeks she was selling cookies. She fell short of her goal, selling 950 or so boxes. Still pretty amazing for an eight-year-old. I was the troop cookie mom that year. I messed up a couple of orders but was able to make it right. It was shortly after that I discovered I needed to wear glasses to read.

I honestly can’t remember if there was a third year. I may have blocked it from my memory.

Now, we watch granddaughter, Charlotte, aged 7, selling her cookies. Last year she had a big goal of 800 boxes, and she sold 845 boxes. Mom, Megan was the troop cookie mom. Megan had so much fun tracking down cookies during last years’ cookie shortage that she signed up as troop cookie mom again!

When I placed my on-line cookie order tonight, they were already out of the new cookie for this year – Raspberry Rally. Described as, “Thin, crispy cookies infused with raspberry flavor, dipped in chocolaty coating.”  The website reads they will be available on March 4^th in a limited quantity. Bet Megan will be hunting down cookies for Charlotte’s troop again this year.

I know there have been a lot of changes in sixty years of scouting, I like that we have three generations of cookie sales for an organization that empowers girls.

If you are looking for a cookie fix and are not supporting a local child (we always encourage you to support local youngsters), feel free to order from Charlotte at this link:

https://app.abcsmartcookies.com/?fbclid=IwAR3yZtzyOLJtkgCvMHKEXqYTw6eXE0yQGBYqkn0QXumuaIg6ZsuZfOFbBVM#/social-link-landing/e985b5a3-cc55-4a3b-af4a-77f17668f818

She has a big goal of 1000 boxes this year!

Dental Day

 

Dental visits are so much fun, said nobody I know ever. I do appreciate how nice my teeth feel for the first  hour or so after a cleaning. Today was the last visit to my Woodland dentist. At least I hope all stays healthy in my mouth before we leave at the end of March.

This is our first year without dental insurance since 1994. When I was pricing dental insurance for the two of us, based on what our needs have been in all of that time, I was shocked to discover I’d pay a little over $1400/year for the two of us for $1000/each of coverage. I called our dentist and talked with them about paying cash for services. Out of pocket for two cleanings each per year and x-rays would cost us around $868.00. While preventive is 100% covered it applies toward the $1000 max. It didn’t really make sense to purchase dental insurance based on our dental histories. The ‘savings’ is an incentive for me to floss more!

My dentist talks while she cleans my teeth. She asks questions. I have a small mouth (but it IS mighty!) and she sticks these rubber things in my mouth to keep my mouth open. Then she asks questions. Questions like, “Isn’t Minneapolis among the coldest parts of the country?” She has her hands in my mouth with some kind of whirring tool so I’m not going to risk moving my head yes or no. Though after eight years of this behavior, I don’t know why I’m still put out. It’s not like she is the first dentist or hygienist to talk to me while cleaning my teeth.

One past hygienist would tell me her parenting woes, In great detail. She had a captive audience. One hygienist would ask me questions about skin care and end our sessions with, “Well I hope you’ll floss as often as you cleanse your face.” After three visits to her I asked for a different hygienist when I made the next appointment. Who needs snarky?

My favorite hygienist though was Judy. Having grown up without regular dental care, I was twenty-two when I had my first cleaning. It took two visits to get my teeth clean. Judy was gentle, considerate, and she didn’t talk while she was cleaning my teeth. Perhaps she was an introvert?

I am thinking I may lay some ground work with my next dentist/hygienist and ask them upfront not to ask me questions during the cleaning.

It’s almost as if I think every question needs to be answered.

Valentine's Day

 

Valentine’s Day is nothing special at our house. Say, what? Nope. Our goal has always been to appreciate and love each other every day of the year. In the early days we would buy cards and then tossed them so we decided not to buy cards anymore.

Every day we practice showing our love for each other. We say please and thank you when we need  assistance with a task. This past year, Joe changed his work schedule so that he went to work after me. Every workday he would walk me to the car, open the door for me, and hand me my seat belt. On colder mornings he would go out and warm up the car for me.

Even when it shouldn’t matter at all what I think about something he wants to do around the house or plant in the yard, he comes to ask me to take a look with him because he needs to talk it out. And I go even if I don’t care what he wants to do. Because he asks and his asking means he cares. I am sure he may feel the same way when I want to review our family budget or go over plans for an upcoming trip. He listens because he understands it is my desire to be transparent with him.

Throughout our almost 29 years of marriage, Joe has been my rock. I can always count on him. Tonight, when we stopped at the store, I wanted something sweet (other than fruit), so he bought me some ice cream AND a dark chocolate candy bar with caramel and sea salt. I shared the candy with him.

Joe’s actions and words make me feel cherished.

Maybe I should rephrase the opening sentence to read, “Every day is Valentine’s Day at our house.”

Memory Lane - 1998

 

One of the best parts about packing is coming across objects or photos I had forgotten we owned. The irony for today’s ‘find’ is that the photo of Joe and Megan has been on my dresser for 25 years and I stopped really seeing it until I was packing today – moving it countless times to dust and giving it a passing glance.

The photo was taken in 1998 at a father-daughter dance. Megan was six years old, and Joe was forty-eight. Megan created the one-of-a-kind popsicle stick and button frame with the photo as a gift for Joe for Christmas that year. This morning I texted the photo to Megan, and she told me she remembers this dance with her dad. And now here she is with her very own seven-year-old, Charlotte and almost nine-year-old, Caleb. I know Charlotte, Caleb, Jeremy, and Megan are creating their own favorite family  memories.

I showed the picture to Joe as he needs the reminder that he WAS present in our children’s lives. He sometimes forgets and laments how he could have been a better father. I get to then remind him of how all three call him when they need help as adults and that he was very much present in their childhood lives.

He is the best dad I had ever met prior to our marriage, and he affirmed his status during our marriage. He wasn’t always the most popular dad as he expected them to do their homework, brush their teeth. help with chores, treat people kindly, share, and a litany of other ‘unreasonable’ demands a caring parent would make of their children.

Joe took the kids to the creek almost every weekend, weather permitting, where they would explore the creek banks, small puddles of trapped minnows, and check out dead animal carcasses. Neighbor children and our dog (Simba) often tagged along with the Coehlo crew as well. They came home muddy (usually) and happy (always) from their explorations. This all occurred pre-cell phone days, so we didn’t take pictures. Our kids still talk fondly of Cache Creek adventures.

We also went camping, My favorite camping story is when we took off – no reservations – to go to the South Warner Wilderness in July. Open campsites were available for tent camping at Mill Creek Falls. Mill Creek Falls has 19 single family campsites. We would hike along part of the lake nearby, climb rocks, look at waterfalls, We went for five years in a row. Nate stopped going after a few years because he was a teenager and had other interests that kept him closer to home. The girls loved it though. They often called it their playground.

Trips to the jetty at Doran State Park (Bodega Bay) were another favorite. I would sit on the beach while they rolled up their pant legs and explored the tide pools for the better part of a day. All as happy as they could be.

Not that we had to travel for quality dad time. For two or three years, Joe let the girls dig a big hole in the side yard which they would fill with water and play in. Mud play seemed to be highly rated in our family.

We had more art supplies than most stores, until Michael’s came to town (our kiddoes were grown by then). A typical at home day would be the girls in dad’s old shirts, a plastic tablecloth on the table, and art supplies including clay and watercolors laid out for them to create to their hearts’ content.

And if art wasn’t enough play, there would be something to take apart – old television sets were a favorite.

Reading, a lot of reading, was happening in this house. We liked to sit around when the children were small and take turns reading Shel Silverstein poems aloud. Sometimes the children would pick their favorites to read and other times we’d just randomly read in order with the first person picking the poem they wanted to read until everyone had multiple turns.

Joe read to the children quite a bit. Mostly they would let him read to them until he fell asleep. On more than one occasion they would finish the book themselves. Even after both could read, his reading to them was a nightly ritual.

Wow! So here we are twenty-five years later, packing to move to Minnesota and one small, sweet photo sends me hurtling  down memory lane.

Sunday Morning Invasion

Joe has been doing a lot of minor repairs around the outside of the house in getting ready to move. I am the ladder spotter. I have this ‘unreasonable’ rule that I must be present when he is on the ladder.  I sit nearby while he does the work. I am not working hard. It takes me away from inside chores and I can read. I’m listening for a thud and calling 911 if necessary.

This morning it was not very windy, and the sun was shining and I was sitting in the back yard when the neighbor decided to use his leaf blower. It went on and on and on. Forty-five minutes. I felt myself growing more and more angry that he wasn’t using a rake. The sound of raking leaves is not nearly as intrusive. Finally, it stopped for three or four minutes. Then to my dismay it started again. My head began pounding and even though the leaf blower eventually stopped – the headache did not.

I have lived in this house for most of the past 30 years and this is the first time that the leaf blower sound has invaded my space. I know he uses it on a regular basis. Maybe it was simply because the sun was shining, and it was so peaceful and there have been too few warm sunny mornings that the noise seemed so ugly and jarring this morning.

It seems to me that sometimes tools that are beneficial are also invasive. I imagine my neighbor woke up and thought this was the ideal day to do his yard work. He was right. I only have six Sundays left in this house. I’ll try to remember that and keep the peace with my neighbor.

 

Happy Birthday, Baby Girl

 

Megan Elizabeth Cook is thirty-one years old today.

What a blessing she has been. Thanks to Megan, I learned to have more patience. The capacity to practice and develop my empathy skills happened because of her experiences.

Many of my preconceived ideas about – well just about everything  - went down the drain after she was born.

As the  parent of a bright, energetic, articulate, funny child one either spends a lot of time trying to figure out how to best serve/rear such a creature or one spends time molding the child into what society considers the ‘norm.’ I am glad that in spite of a lot of criticism from other ‘parenting’ experts (like family members, ha ha) Megan and I figured out what would make her happy and a successful human being.

Over the years Megan has focused her energy on animal rescue, animal behavior, people behavior (with animals), and emotionally supporting loved ones. She is fiercely independent, buying her first house at 25 years old and rented rooms so she could afford her mortgage. At 29 she sold the house and moved to Minnesota where she created a life with her partner, Jeremy,  and his two children, Caleb aged eight, and Charlotte aged seven.  

She is Charlotte’s girl scout troop’s cookie mom. She also volunteers for other girl scout support roles. She has coached children’s soccer teams in the recent past. Once when she was feeling a bit out of sorts she went outside and weeded the common area of the HOA she lives in. 

Most of all, Megan is my sweet baby. Hard to believe this child is thirty one years old today.

Megan with Grandma Karnes (5 months old) July 1994

The photo below is of notes written by Charlotte and Caleb recently. The figures in the drawings are of pirates. That’s because they first knew Megan as “Dread” one of the pirates in a game their dad played online.

High Tea

Today I tried something I have wanted to do for a while – high tea. I was accompanied by my friend, Betsy. The tea service at Tea List in Davis was lovely. Betsy’s company was even lovelier. We arrived about 1:20 pm and left around 3:45 pm. We talked and talked and talked some more. I did not notice the passage of time until I had to make a restroom run (okay I walked).

I enjoy conversations with Betsy as she is authentically one of the kindest and most mindful people, I have the pleasure of knowing. Time flew by while we shared stories of our careers, marriages, and lives. I am so glad she was available for a  visit today. I appreciate her insights and learned lessons of the many curve balls life has thrown her way. While a less resilient person might choose anger and bitterness, Betsy has chosen self reflection and the hard work of working toward the changes she wants in her life. 

And maybe all conversations and shared stories are made even better over high tea? I just know today was a blessing in my life. Thank you, Betsy!

The high tea was a nice blend of small tea sandwiches, fresh fruit, and gourmet French desserts. I tried vanilla and cinnamon tea and a second tea of green tea with strawberry. I would do this again! Maybe on our trip around the country I’ll try to find a tea house or two to see how they may differ from state to state. Is Texas high tea the same as California high tea? Now that I think of it is high tea in England different in from one  region to another region? I’ll have to Google that question.

Be Kind to Past Versions of Yourself

 This meme resonated with me. I have few regrets about decisions or experiences over the years. I think regrets can be a waste of time and energy. That’s not to say I haven’t analyzed the crap out of a decision or a conversation after the fact. Just that I try to look at my behaviors and attitudes and learn from my mistakes. Then I move on and hope like heck I don’t make the same mistake again.

Sometimes though it has taken me years before I realize that I acted from a place of ignorance. I know I have said things that were totally misinformed. I think specifically about times when I’ve known someone was in the throes of depression or anxiety and I just did not understand why my pollyannish sound bites did not move them to make a change. Yeah, I’ve been that person. For anyone on the receiving end – I am terribly sorry.

Which I guess is another reason it’s none of my business what someone else thinks of me. I need to work on being the person I want to be – not what someone else wants me to be.

To the past versions of myself – I forgive your ignorance and am glad you are turning out to be the person you are now. It’s a journey.

Learning to Love the Sound of My Feet

 Walking away from all the things not meant for me.

This is what I am learning to do these days. I didn’t retire only from my job. As a lifelong caretaker of the world (and I’ll bet you didn’t even know I was on the job) it is past time for me to stop trying to make everything better for others around me. I seem to be really good at extremes.

I know I’ll always care for others and if someone asks, I’ll be there for them. I really want though to let others care for themselves. I shouldn’t be the only person with strength of character from rescuing myself over the years. And by that I don’t mean to imply I did not have help available to me if I wanted or needed it. When I have asked, I have always received.

I think I have struggled with the ‘not meant for me’ part. After all, isn’t everything meant to be for somebody and if nobody showed up – well that must have meant it was meant for me. Even writing that sentence makes me laugh.

I really am trying hard not to act like I am the boss of the world. Some days I am amazingly successful. Other days not so much. Learning to say no to others is far easier for me than saying no to myself.  

My brain says, “Oh you should do this.”

Me: “Yes! “

Someone else, “Beth, you could (or should do this.”

In my head I think, “You are not the boss of me.”

Me aloud: “No! Thank you for the opportunity though.”

When I was in a local service club years ago, I would volunteer for everything. One day I heard another member tell someone else, “Beth volunteers for everything and doesn’t leave anything for the rest of us.” Whoa. That was a revelation for me. I had to learn to curb what I saw as enthusiasm and stop volunteering in the first go around. I am so grateful I overheard that conversation or I’d still be sticking my nose into everything.

The upside of walking away from all the things not meant for me is that I am making space in my life for all of the things that are meant for me. Like long conversations with friends, naps in the afternoon, enjoying a meal out or in our home with people I enjoy, writing, reading, time with Joe and most of all freedom from others’ worries.

Odds-N-Ends

 Happy Birthday to SJC. She is a remarkable woman. When I first met her in 2015 she had some bad stuff happening in her life.

I asked her one day, “If you could do anything in the entire world, what would it be.” She told me. I asked her what was stopping her from living that life? Next thing I know (there may have been a year gap or so) – she was heading off and creating the very life she wanted.

I admire that she took advantage of opportunities that came her way and is living her best life yet. I know she will continue to create a rich spirit-filled life for her family. She is an excellent example of someone deciding she could make a choice to change her life or stay where she was. Thank you, S, for your courage!

*********************

I met my friend, Alice, for breakfast this morning. She has such positive energy, I could sit and listen to her talk all day long.  Alice and her spouse are moving into a new home, so we share some similar goals right now – namely packing up one home and preparing to make a life in a new place. For Alice, the move is from Natomas back to Woodland where she lived most of her adult life until 10 years ago. She has a strong foothold in this community.

Alice asked me a question this morning that was thought provoking.

The Question: Do you think things happen for a reason?

The background on this, Alice explained, was that her minister delivered a sermon on how people will ‘blame’ God when things go wrong so he’s not particularly fond of this phrase.

I thought about this for a moment and my response to Alice was (paraphrasing here): I am not sure if they happen for a reason. I do know I think lessons can be learned from things that happen.

I think though the biggest issue becomes expectation. If our expectation is that our choices can make a difference in our life, then we expect to take responsibility for our life in general. Yes, all kinds of ‘bad’ things happen in good people’s lives. This is not about good or bad people, It is about expectation. I expect that things will happen outside of my control. There is no need to blame someone else (God, a bad boss, a co-worker who doesn’t do their job, someone who is mean to others, poor parenting, etc.). It is what it is. I think we can learn, make a different choice, move on. Obviously, some areas of life are difficult and complex to move on. Poverty for one.

Which comes back to one of my biggest concerns of all. How do people (me included) keep from falling into a victim mentality when life happens? Blaming someone else for our woes can feel like a victim mentality. I think we need to grieve, process, and make decisions – each in our own time – when life hands us lemons. I am encouraged by those who keep putting one foot in front of another. Trying new ways to deal with a lousy hand they were dealt,

I also recognize that I have no idea what someone else is feeling and how much courage it takes for them to just get out of bed each day and move to the couch.

I hope I have not implied that I had any answers – lots of questions and thinking to do. Meanwhile, let’s just love each other where we are today – in this moment.

*********************

I got a reminder from Apple that my Finch App is coming up for renewal. I was introduced to the app almost a year ago. It is a self-care widget pet (my pet’s name is Joey) that grows and earns points as you take care of yourself. The tasks are as simple as going outside, taking a shower, washing your face, or brushing your teeth. They have recommended tasks and you can create your own to do list as well.

There is a free  version or the subscription version (about $40/year). I have no idea of what the difference is.  I am definitely renewing. I have two friends (this is not an open program like Facebook where someone can ask you to friend them – they have to have a code you give them) that make me want to continue. Each day we can send each other “good vibes” that include hugs, water, stretch breaks, calm, gratitude, thoughts, comfort, strength, etc.

The app also features meditation, exercises, calming soundscapes (my favorite is distant thunder), reflection prompts, and quizzes (anxiety, pessimism, body appreciation, gratitude to name a few). I really like the First Aid section that includes the 3-3-3 Rule to quickly ground yourself from anxiety or the deep dive that guides you through directing compassion inwards towards yourself.

I like this app because it helps me to connect with people that I know also deal with anxiety, stress, or just need motivation to tackle chores.

If you do check out the application and want to be friends just reach out to me at bethcoehlo@aol.com and I will send you my code to become friends.

Until tomorrow.

Niece Time

This Becca Lee poem resonates with me as it reminds me of my daughter, Megan, and my Karnes nieces Renee, Courtney, Jami, and Caity. They may argue that they are not ‘completely unapologetic.’

Two of my Karnes nieces – Renee and Courtney - joined me for a virtual chat this afternoon. As this nosy aunt delved into what they are doing these days,  I loved how openly they answered when they could have simply said, “Really, Aunt Beth?  That is none of your business.”

But they didn’t. They answered my probing questions with an openness and a vulnerability I would never have had with my own aunts. With them living in Ohio and me in California, I was only around them maybe once or twice a year, for a few days at most, since they were born. I feel I’ve really only developed a relationship with my nieces now that they are adults. One of the reasons I am excited for our move to Minnesota is that I will be within a day’s drive of them.

For an hour today we talked about how their parents are doing (their dads are my brothers), how their own lives are going (busy!), sharing Netflix accounts (in response to a poem Courtney wrote on Instagram) and so much more. Since Renee does not do Instagram, I read aloud Courtney’s poem, and Courtney updated us on the status of her Netflix account. None of us know for certain what we want to be when we grow up. Meanwhile Renee is doing her lawyer thing and Courtney does her accounting thing. Courtney also home schools her four children ranging in ages from thirteen to three.  

Renee wanted to hear about the hot air balloon ride I mentioned in an earlier blog post.  I shared how once was enough for me. I had a fear that I would fall over the side of the basket. That led to a discussion of the scariest (i.e., maybe stupidest) thing we ever did. Fortunately, the universe and God looked out for us.

Renee, Courtney, and I share birth order. We are the first child in each of our families. Courtney and I like spreadsheets for planning trips because we want to know our budget. Renee uses Microsoft Word and a calculator to plan the details of a trip and her budget. All three of us like to write (as do my other nieces). We all like things around us to be orderly.

I loved my time with my nieces. They are amazing women, each in her own right, as they make their way over, through, and around whatever life throws at them. Today they delivered pure joy to my day. I probably should be a bit apologetic though for asking some of the questions I asked…

Two Wrongs Don't Make a Right

From 2014 to 2020, I helped take care of an elderly uncle and his financial and healthcare affairs. Part of the care included frequent visits ( 3 to 4 times a week) with him, at an assisted living facility, during the first 4 years, I also took him to doctor appointments in Woodland and Davis. I took him shopping for items so he could have mini-trips out. We’d invite him to our home for holiday meals. 

My uncle did not like me. He told me so often. He did not like my values. He criticized the way I spent my money. He would call me stupid on at least three occasions. I just ignored his verbal attacks. I believed it was my responsibility to make sure his affairs were in order as there was only one other cousin nearby to help.  She helped as much as she could. Of the two of us, she was closer in age and had lived with him for awhile when they were both children. She had more of a relationship with him than I had growing up.

When our uncle was verbally abusive toward her, she would come back at him with something equally caustic. He enjoyed that. He never once apologized for his meanness. On multiple occasions she said to me, “Beth – you are too nice. You have to tell him to go screw himself.” I told her, “No, that’s not who I am.”

On a visit to Ohio in 2016 I asked cousins in the area if I moved my uncle to their community if they would take turns visiting him. Every single one told me no. Some even burst into tears as they shared stories of his cruel words to them when they were younger and he would visit their families. Male cousins told me no they were not interested in having him in their life as he had insulted their wives and daughters. I had not expected this response as I figured he had saved his meanness for me. Needless to say, we kept him in California.

As his health worsened, he suffered from mental health issues and possible dementia – most likely brain damage from a series of mini-strokes he experienced. His outbursts toward me and my cousin grew so severe during this time that I stopped seeing him and asked for a psychological review. He was declared unable to attend to his own affairs, which allowed us to invoke his trust and have his successor trustee take over. The trustee lived in another state, so my cousin and I continued to handle visits but only when necessary. We attended quarterly meetings with staff at the facility he lived in. Most direct one-on-one visits were emergency room related and I would sit with him until he was either hospitalized or returned to the assisted living facility. During the emergency room visits he would hold my hand and ask me to make sure they honored his treatment wishes.

My last visit with my uncle was after he was hospitalized in mid-July of 2020 in a comatose state. My husband and I took turns over the next 8 days of staying at his bedside so that he would not be alone when he passed. It was on Joe’s watch that my uncle left this life. We were blessed that the hospital let us stay as we were in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic.

I tell you this story now because it has taken me a couple of years to process all of the emotions I experienced during the years of helping to care for my uncle. To be clear, I only saw this through because of my other family members – my aunts and cousins who could not be here themselves. I have a very strong sense of obligation and a desire to do the right thing. I have no regrets. I think most of us do what we have to do.

I am happy I never became my uncle. I never fought fire with fire. In the end that feels like a gift I gave myself. To stay true to my beliefs.

Friends

 

My First Best Friend

         By JACK PRELUTSKY

My first best friend is Awful Ann—

she socked me in the eye.

My second best is Sneaky Sam—

he tried to swipe my pie.

My third best friend is Max the Rat—

he trampled on my toes.

My fourth best friend is Nasty Nell—

She almost broke my nose.

 

My fifth best friend is Ted the Toad—

he kicked me in the knee.

My sixth best friend is Grumpy Gail—

she's always mean to me.

My seventh best is Monster Moe—

he often plays too rough.

That's all the friends I've got right now—

I think I've got enough.

I love this poem almost as much as I love my friends. In the poem’s case it gives a clear message that sometimes it is wise to keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Our friends have never done any of the above. Though my friend, Ginger, will regale you with the tale of when I tossed a quarter to her and hit her in the eye. Not sure if that makes me Awful Ann, Nasty Nell, or Grumpy Gail.

We enjoyed a lovely meal and visit with a few of our ‘best’ friends last night. We had prepared lamb shanks cooked in wine, mushrooms, garlic, onions and tomatoes, pork loin with apricot horseradish sauce, and mashed potatoes. Our guests contributed a green bean casserole, a mixed vegetable dish, a green salad, and sweet potato pie with whipped cream.

These particular friends are a mixture of old and new. We have known the Smiths for around 30 years, they introduced us to the Gordons about 10 years ago, and we introduced them to our friends Elizabeth and Dave last night. They had met Elizabeth at a prior dinner, so we wanted to introduce them to Dave.

It is a very interesting group consisting of a retired law enforcement person with the Department of Justice and a second career in investigating Medicare fraud (lawyer) who also volunteers with the Civil Air Patrol, a semi-retired medical doctor (he also has done quite a bit of volunteer medical work in the Philippines), a lawyer with a background in human resources and former California political appointee, a PHD food scientist now working for a biotech firm, a person who worked in educational philanthropy for most of her career, and Joe and another person who built sensors that have been in space, deep sea exploration, and numerous industrial and academic research programs. Then me. Conversation always flows freely.

Conversations about travels, children, grandchildren, and life experiences.

I love these people. Their energy is calm, sincere, and stimulating all at the same time. Last night we laughed a lot over shared stories (told by husbands) of misadventures in putting away dishes or utensils in wrong drawers. Maybe you had to be there. Here were all of these highly, educated, sweet (they all are kind) men offering up the actions that have made their wives a bit frustrated at times. Everyone of them had a story to share and there was definitely bonding going on. They ended the evening by traipsing out to the garage to check out Joe’s tool boxes. Not mind you, because they are all into tools. More to support him in sympathy for our inventory project.

We have always enjoyed hosting dinners for friends. In retirement it is different in that it feels like we have all of the time in the world to prepare. No rushing home after work to cook or clean. The preparation in the past felt like an end to a means – we enjoyed the company of our friends. This time I actually enjoyed the act of preparing for the evening.

In two weeks, we will host another dinner with a group made up of younger friends and it will be another delightful evening. This group has decided we will have a mystery dinner. Everyone will bring whatever they want to share, and nobody is permitted to tell anyone else what they are bringing. I wouldn’t be surprised if they all bring macaroni and cheese – one of this crowd’s favorite dishes.

When I look at the abundance in our lives, I remind myself that we have been blessed with friends who continue to stay connected and bless us with their stories and time.

Logic - The Retired Life Version

As we are preparing to have friends over for dinner this evening, Joe has been underfoot this morning. Okay, he was trying to help. Okay, he WAS helping. Maybe I should note that I planned my week without any lunches out with friends so I may be out of touch with civilized behavior. Other than a trip to dispose of a broken Walmart cart that ended up in a friend’s front yard – I have been at home all week working on travel plans, cleaning, tool inventories, cooking, and getting my steps in with short walks every hour.

My only outside socialization was picking Elizabeth and Dave up from the airport Monday morning and when Kim Farina came by for dinner earlier this week. Thank goodness I experienced those interactions or I would probably be even more irritable.

All of this to say, I may have been a bit cranky with Joe this morning.

Here is an example:

Me: Really, a small plate? (This is for the pork loin he took out so it could get to room temperature).

Him: It’s encased in plastic so it won’t drip.

Me: It’s logical that the plate should be bigger than the meat.

Him: Different people use different logic. I considered a larger plate but since it won’t drip it doesn’t matter.

Me: No! There is one logic for this  - the plate should be bigger than the meat.

Him: No. That’s your logic, it’s not mine.

Me: You are right. We do have different logic. I have logic. You don’t.

The upshot of this is that he got out a bigger plate and then I felt grumpy because I knew I was being unreasonable.

So that led to a whole other conversation.

Me: I’m sorry, I know I’m being bitchy.

Him: No, you are not being bitchy. You are used to working in an office where everyone does things your way. (Note: This is NOT true. I don’t think so at least). I am used to working alone in the shop and everything is my way. I am collaborative when working with others though.

And he is collaborative! He is so willing to help at anything and everything and we are finding a lovely rhythm to working together. Except for when we don’t because I am acting like a petulant child. Like really, who cares about the size of the plate?

Everything is prepared and ready to be cooked for our meal this evening. I’ve had a shower, a light lunch, a glass of wine (had to open it for the lamb shank recipe) and a lot of water. Good-bye cranky pants.

When Joe poured the wine, I looked at the clock and it was only 11:00am. I looked at him and said, “I wanted a glass an hour ago and thought it was too early.” Joe reminded me that we are retired and 11:00am is the perfect time for a retired person.

I like Joe Coehlo’s logic.

Plumber Joe

I washed windows today and read a novel for a bit. Joe meanwhile was replacing plumbing to the sink in the master bathroom. He has an incredible amount of patience in dealing with parts that are no longer made. Other than grunts as he moved in an enclosed space, he was being incredibly patient.

After our all-house inspection, yesterday, Joe decided to work on a few of the suggestions in the report. Nothing major on the face of it except it seems most plumbing jobs turn into numerous trips to the hardware store. Unfortunately, due to supply chain issues – he often has to go to multiple hardware stores to get the items he needs. I also think I saw him buy a tool for the job.

We are in the midst of inventorying eleven (11) rolling carts of tools and he bought a tool. We are only on cart number 4 and have 354 entries. A few of those lines include descriptions like ’Shop Made Deburring Tools 14’ or ‘HSS Toll Bits (Assorted) Quantity 24.’  I am learning loads more about tools (I learned about tools from my dad, my first husband was a machinist, and Joe is a machinist) than I ever thought I would need. In the past I substitute taught in a construction class at a high school – I aced the tool test the students took on one of those occasions. I am sure the universe is preparing me for something more in life and tools are related.

Our next major project is a fence repair. It was supposed to be fixed three years ago; however, our neighbor we share the fence with wanted to do it himself to save money. We finally told him in January it had to be done in February. We got quotes, he got quotes and he decided to put in for vacation and with Joe’s help they will begin work on it within the next two weeks. Joe’s built other fences on our property so fairly sure he already has the tools for the project.

One of the inspection recommendations is to install handrails on our 3 steps leading down to our backyard patio. The report reads, “we recommend installing handrails on steps that have three or more risers, particularly if children or the elderly visit or occupy the property.” None of our three kids (Megan was 2 when we moved in) have ever fallen down those steps. As I recall Megan at two managed just fine (one of her favorite activities was digging in the dirt in the backyard) – Joe even installed a door handle at her height so she could go in and out without help. As for the elderly, we could take them out through the garage side door which has two steps down.

Joe and I love our home. It has been perfect for rearing our children and we have found the set-up entertainment friendly. As we are preparing the house for rental and eventual sale, Joe has been sharing with me what he would like in our next home: Brick exterior, Built in the last several years, heated pole barn or extra large garage area (heated). He won’t miss working with old electrical and plumbing issues.

Tonight, he mentioned that he might find a part time job in a plumbing business. As if we are not keeping him busy enough with our own plumbing issues. 

Gift of Time

I love this Peanuts cartoon. It makes me laugh out loud because Snoopy’s exuberance captures how I feel about retirement life.

After my first full month of retirement here is what I LOVE about my life right now:

1. Unlimited time with Joe Coehlo. Time when I feel refreshed and relaxed instead of on work mornings when I was thinking ahead to my day or at the end of the day when I was exhausted.
2. Stopping to take a break whenever I want as long as I want without a need to meet a deadline or serve someone else’s schedule.
3. Choosing what I want to do each day when I want to do it. I need to dust – I can dust at 7:00 am or 1:00 pm on any day of the week I want to dust (I NEVER want to dust but it needs to get done). I can spread my cleaning chores out over the day or the week without feeling in a rush.
4. Staying up as late as I like without worrying if I am getting enough sleep because I can get up anytime the next morning that I want to. So what if I seem to want to get up between 6am and 7am – I can take a nap if I feel sleepy during the day.
5. Spending time with people I enjoy for as long as I like without having to go to or back to work at a certain time.
6. Dealing with only my own life stuff.
7. Not having to keep up with whoever has COVID-19 in the workplace and asking all of the questions associated with it to keep other people (employees) as safe as possible.
8. Sorting through belongings and finding new homes for them for as long as I like on any given day. I was worried I’d not have enough time to get ready for our move, but I am way ahead of the curve.
9. I feel rested. Now I know when I am tired. I was always tired the last few years (March 2020-December 2022) when I was working so I just assumed that was my age. It wasn’t age. It was me overdoing it.
10. I cook now. Joe did most of the cooking over the years. Now it’s easy for me to whip something up. I have time.

In a nutshell – I love this gift of time!

Yes, Lucy. I am that happy.