I remember sitting on the couch with my Mom about a year ago, almost to the day.  We were talking about the upcoming wedding of my oldest daughter, Rachael.  The conversation turned to what I was going to wear, and then what she was going to wear. She had a blouse she wanted to wear. We walked back into her bedroom. She took the blouse out of the closet and held it up across her chest to show me how it looked, as she looked in the mirror.  She was approaching 89. I remember thinking, as she looked at herself in the mirror, about a time growing up I watched her spraying her hair and putting earrings on.  My Mom had all kinds of jewelry. She had nice clothes. Hair day was Friday, mall shopping was Wednesday. When I was really young, we shopped in Wheeling WV. She would look at clothes. Buy things, I still see her in my mind holding things up to herself, and looking in a mirror, to see how it looked.

I still can smell the hairspray swirling all around the room. I still see her getting ready. That day after I left her apartment, I sat in the car a while. I thought about her, her blouse, how she held it up to see how it looked. How she smiled thinking about the wedding. I thought about how we are as women. How at almost 89, she was holding up a blouse to see how it looked, and asking how it looked.

Several months before she died, she gave me a box of odds and ends jewelry.  I barely looked at it at the time. I put the box in the closet. Couple days after the funeral, I was looking for something, and there was that box.

I remembered. The hairspray swirling all around the room. Her powder compact. Her earrings. Her life. Loss is something so difficult to place into words. Sometimes it’s a deep hole. Sometimes it’s a silent tear. Sometimes it’s a smile. It’s lonely. It’s longing for a better day somewhere in your memory.

I know that I wouldn’t mind sitting on the floor in her bedroom again, even as the hairspray swirls all around.

💞

I was having eggs this morning. I never get “once over easy” quite right. That’s a gifted chef that can do that, or a really good pan.

Sitting there, a memory popped up in my mind. Every summer growing up my parents sent me on little trips to stay with my Aunt’s and Uncle’s.  Looking back, I’m pretty sure they were wanting to get rid of me. 💁 I mean a kid in the 70’s, no phone, no TV beyond 13 channels, one of which was the time, and who was kind of exhausting, needed summer trips out of Mom’s hair now and then. My Uncle Sonny made “corn fried eggs.” I can still taste that cornmeal. Those eggs were perfect. Anytime my Mom made them, she talked about her home town, eggs, corn, and the house she grew up in.

Uncle Sonny would definitely joke around when he served them to you. Most often spilling something on your hand acting like it was accidental.

They have all left us now. Leaving voids on this Earth, and cherished memories of a much more simple time.  Gifted us with a deep appreciation of the easy simple things of this beautiful life.

Corn fried eggs.  I think I’ll spill some on my hand, accidentally.

✌

Why is it when I wear a jean jacket, I feel a little fierce?  I had a jean jacket in high school that I put all these buttons on of Rock Bands.  I had THE BEST REO Speedwagon buttons. I had a few U2 as well.  The Joshua Tree Album cover was one I remember the most.  Why oh why did I ever lose those buttons??  I hope they found perhaps a good home.  I will stick to that thought.

Stepping into being a little fierce or bold was indeed this haircut.  Little swipe of red for edge.  I think yes, be bold.  Yesterday I felt extremely self-conscious with this new cut. Not so much today!  What a difference when you just decide, “hey.  I think I’ll be fierce today.”  Our state of mind may just be everything, huh?

My youngest daughter is my stylist.   She told me it was “Bad Ass.”  I’ll take her word for it.  When you hit 51 sometimes, the thought of “bad ass” is literally your ass hurting from any real movement beyond the normal day to day.

I like this versatility of this simple black dress. Small ruffle line around the neckline and bottom, this can go from a wedding to a workday depending on the shoe.  Lucky Brand black wedge sandals are not too high, and easy to wear.

Summer is clipping right along now, I see back to school stuff in the stores already. I think we rush things a lot.  I am always wishing for Friday. So I suppose I do that too.  Let’s just savor the summer breeze for a while though.

Peace.

✌

Makeup:  Senegence:

• Color Correcting Tinted Moisturizer in Medium
• Make Sense Pearlizer Foundation
• Black Lashsense
• Candlelight, Garnet, and Mocha Java Shadowsense
• First Love Lipsense with Rose Gloss

Other:

• Tan Luxe: The Gloss, Tan Drops THE BODY and THE FACE, in Medium to Tan
• Cody Airspun Loose Power in Illuminating
• Luck Brand Wedge Sandal, Jean Jacket by The Limited, Jewerly is Premier Designs, Black Dress by Adrianna Papell

                                                                                      I was looking over this blog.  2013 last post, 2018 now.  WHAT??

2013 was what I like to call the “Year of Cath.”  I quit my job of 13 years with the idea that I would indeed return to the work force after a year.

That was pretty much what I did. I return now to this blog and things are WILDY different!  I will not bore you with 5 years of what I have been doing.

Let’s do the Readers Digest version:

I found myself in the office of a Temp Agency. I had worked at the same job for 13 years.  Dude told me I had no real skill.  He was going to have a hard time placing me.  Asked me why I did not finish my degree, why I did not try to move up, on, anything.  He kept shaking his head.  Well like, I was raising kids?  Being a mom, wife, homemaker, and anything in-between?  I am still not sure why women have to explain that.   We do though.  It is very infuriating.  Anyway, he did place me in a Corporate Office for a local grocery chain, doing all things clerical.  I could do an entire blog post and possible novel just about my experiences there. Long story/feature film short, I worked there for a few years, and then transferred into a position with the promotions department of this chain.  Oh my land.  Not FOR ME.  AT ALL.  I thought it was though.  I ended up being the sample girl.  The “hey would you like to try these cheese balls?” girl. I thought I would be out promoting the store, advertising the store, maybe even doing small demos in the store.  Nope, “hey would you like some of this sushi?” girl.  I worked with a few tremendous people though!  As an example of how bad this was, one of my assignments was to drive to a store in the chain that was in a small college town about an hour – 30 minutes from my house.  On college move in day, and have a corn hole tournament in the parking lot.  Showing the college age kids how it’s done I guess?   They could NOT have sent a more wrong person.  I am a Mom of kids that age, first of all. Second, I truly looked the part of the mom carrying in the bedding for the dorm.  Third, I wanted to tell some of them they really did not need that case of beer, just because Mom and Dad just left!  It was a disaster, and my boss at the time knew it.

Shortly thereafter, I received a job offer to go back and do all things clerical, and be the administrative assistant at a local Chamber of Commerce. Thank GOD. I did not desire to ask one more human if they wanted to try the smoked turkey jerky.  I love what I do now.  Sometimes it is a tad stressful, but over the last couple of years I am learning, I clock out at 5.  This is my job, not my life.  Do the very best I can while I am in the 9-5, and then leave it there.  I do not actually do that very well every day, but I sure am learning.

So much has happened to me personally during the last 5 years too.  I think I wont get into all that.  As inspiration strikes, I will use that energy to write about it all.

I am over 50 now.  OMG, when you type that out it gets ya right in the –wasn’t I just 30?- heart.  I think that women over 50 are FABULOUS!  I am just 51.  We grew up in the 70’s.  We went to High school in the early 80’s.  We had the best hair, music, and we were on the very edge of technology.  They put computers in my High school the year after I graduated. The first CD I ever listened to was Purple Rain.  We had Prince, so I think we win right there! Women over 50 do not have to be wearing Alfred Dunner sets; we do not have to have Mom hair, mom jeans, or mom make up!  We do however; need to take care of our skin.  We need to dress with our personality, not exactly our age.  What exactly IS “age appropriate?”  I know I am not a fan of that term at all anyway.  Most of us have raised kids, husbands, and friends.  We have a few grays, wrinkles, and curves.  All of that makes us beautiful, perceptive, fabulous women.

Let’s GO!!!

peace👐

There seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life lately. Looking back. Looking over my past. Wondering what If anything I would change if I could, to result differently now. I was channel surfing the other night, in lieu of sleep, which is yet another reoccurring theme, not sleeping. Anyway, was channel surfing. Came across one of my favorite movies. “ Back to the Future.” Michael J. Fox. This movie lives in repeating loops all across the too many channels of nothingness our cable provider, cough, provides. In case you were under a rock, this movie is about Michael’s character returning to the past, in a time machine. A Delorean to be exact, Time Machine. In this car, you can turn to the year in which you would like to go, sorta like a radio channel, rev ‘er up, and off you go. Back…to the Future? The kicker, or Key, is that he gets to return there, as he is. Knowing everything that has happened to get to the present. He can change the outcomes, fix the errors, dial up the present and return to a better…future?
Of course in the movie, it happens just like that. Everything is fixed, from the past and bright is the present, because past mishaps and mistakes are fixed. The wrong turns are righted.

In many convos with friends over the years, and usually over drinks. We have discussed this kind of thing. I have always maintained that I would not want to actually change anything..or would I? I would most certainly like to go back, but I gotta know what I know now. I want almost the same outcome, just BETTER..easier..or would I?

Maybe I would have said this, or done that. Perhaps I would not have been that wanna be Rebel, and never smoked that first cig in the alley at lunch in high school. Maybe I would have asked that guy for a dance, or maybe turned down that guy that asked me to dance, and danced with the other one. Maybe I would have been better to my Parents, or maybe not.

It would be neat to go back and remember how you felt when the phone rang, and it was “him.” Or that day that you and your friends were really young, and sitting by the lake with beer poured into Pepsi cans, so no one would know, was the best day ever.

Maybe I would have, maybe I would not have. I just don’t know, and there is not a Dolorean anywhere close by. Life is funny. Mistakes are gonna be made, fun is gonna be had. Not everyone is gonna be happy everyday, all the time. You can never make every single right choice. I would like to meet the person who has, by the way. That could be another movie, that when sleep evades, I will stumble upon..

I have a sign hanging in my house. “ Live Well, Laugh often, Love Much.” If I can laugh at my wrong turns, or at least chuckle at the mistakes, Live in the light of, at least the knowledge, that I can do a lot about the here and now, but not so much about the past. Living Well..is a piece of cake.

Peace!

To begin..English? Punctuation? Never my strong points. I feel I write , how I speak. So just overlook the occasional grammatical errors.

I am 46 years OLD. Some days it just feels good to admit that. After I quit my boring-please help me-never ending cycle of doom-cubicle full time- job, I decided to make some self improvements. I really knew I could stand to drop some LBS..so I began to work out. At least that is what I called it. According to some of my face book friends, and what I see in the News Feed over there, it was hardly “working out.” but I was moving. I did some kick boxing, with folks that I am telling you, are entirely too perky, and happy, and are trying to kill anyone who watches those DVD’s. Seriously. Resident Evil. Had a few dates with Jillian Michaels. She is Satan. Do not tell me she isn’t. the weather sorta broke here in Ohio. Again, that is up for debate, but it was over 30 degrees, so as far as this Ohioan is concerned, that’s breaking weather, so I started walking. Outside. Little by little I started walking further. Before too long, I was walking 5 miles a day..not all 7 in the week, but at least 5 out of those 7. Added a few hills here and there..and left 25 pounds somewhere between my house and the local dairy Queen, which opened for the season, only to make me a little more bitter as I walk by.

I like the feeling, of walking…but I am not perky little, pony tail wearin’, happy go lucky, Ipod with a Velcro holder, young thing, that pass me every morning, RUNNING. I am not running anywhere. I do not have a fancy little Ipod holder. One day, I actually thought I could fashion my music with a rubber band around my wrist, because I do not have all the little work out gear I see all about town. Some days I am kicking my own behind out the door, because..I mean, can I just sit here please? But no, 25 lb ago girl, says get the H outside.

People see me around town, and feel the need to comment. Things like, “oh, I see you STROLLING around town. How nice.”

These are the people I have dreams about pushing into traffic. I am NOT strolling, and it is NOT NICE. These 46 year old legs kinda hurt..I just had to cuss my way out the door, I am sweating, and briskly climbing up this small hill. Join my you CAR DRIVER..k?

Then there are the people who speak of “clean eating.” What is this? My food that I eat is clean. The glass that I place some wine in, is clean anyway. I am going to eat for crying out loud. Most likely really bad stuff. I applaud all those before and after pics I see of gorgeous young ladies, that threw out the, sugar? Flour? And look FAB..but I am 46, and I really like, cake. I am going to well…have my cake, and eat it too, and walk. Move. Strap my music to my arm with a string or something, and walk.

I am proud of what I have done here. I remember walking by this hill in town everyday, one day, I decided to turn, and walk up that hill. When I got to the top, I turned around, and smiled. The kind of smile that I felt from somewhere very deep inside of me. I did it. All alone. All by myself. No one was there..just me and my 25 lbs ago self. It was fantastic. Later that evening I had a glass, a clean glass of wine, to celebrate that.

It isn’t 100 lbs. It isn’t fancy. It’s 46. And it is not too shabby. Not too shabby at all.

PEACE!!

“Life ain’t always beautiful, but it’s a beautiful ride.”

My life has a Soundtrack. Seriously, I always hear background music like a really sappy B Movie from the 80’s. Sometimes a symphony, sometimes a rocked out metal band, other times dance pop. But there is definitely background music to my life.

I have been a non member of the outside working world now for about three months. When I am out in the general public, I find my tolerance for crap is becoming non existent. It’s very noisy out in the world. People are always in some kind of rush. People all over seem to have an agenda that is being saw to. Rushing through the check out line, or the red light. Wishing the line at the post office would move quicker, or the folks at the DMV would skip a number and call theirs. I have noticed that most people have a distant look on the face, because they are mentally on the next task, on the agenda, before the one they are on is complete. Now, that I am truly not in this rush all the time, I hear music. People don’t, in general, hear it.

I have taken to walking every day..OUTSIDE..and I hear birds, see flowers, look at the sky. Everything all around is musical. I see faces, smiles, and frowns. I hear cars flying by me, some distant horns blowing, and I hear the breeze. It’s all set to song in my head.
Some of my friends have suggested I am bored. Need a hobby, need SOMETHING. Mainly I feel this is suggested because I am not in a hurry anymore. Because I notice a beautiful budding tree, or a sunny day, and make mention of it., suggests to them I am bored. I know for certain this “break” will need to end. In this life it really isn’t realistic to not have an income. Unless, of course, I don’t mind “ Living on a Prayer” in perfect Bon Jovi fashion.

I am looking at his moment in my life as a commercial break between the songs on my favorite radio station. I am on commercial break. Before the Music comes back on.

Meantime, I’ll wait and listen for the Music..
The soundtrack. The “B” side of the record. That is always where the best song is anyway.

PEACE

I live in the same town I grew up in. Little town along the Ohio River. I live about three blocks away from the house I grew up in.  We have a few Police Officers. I grew up with the Mayor. Had a crush all through my tween years on the now, Chief of Police. My kids go to the same school that I graduated from. On any given Fall Friday, I can see a lot of the people I grew up with , gather for the football games. When I go to the local store, there are so many folks to stop and chat with, sometimes I forget what I came there for.  The local beauty shops are the news centers for all things.  CNN has nothing on the people at our pharmacy. On all Patriotic holidays, the American Flag flies from one end of town to the other. On Football Fridays, the Team Flag flies from one end of town to the other. Every time I hear the Fight song/Alma mater, Itear up. I basically have the exact same friends I had when I was young. “Lifer’s” I call them. Of course, I have been blessed to add some real, cherished people through out   my life thus far.  But those people, that hail from here, well..there is nothing like them. We gather at the same churches Sunday to Sunday. Weddings, baptisms, Funerals. Speaking of being News Central, ask a Church Lady. She’s a Journalist. No Doubt.  The people that I grew up around, that have left, when they return for a event, game, or reunion..it’s like they never left anyway. We can pick up like we just had coffee the day before. It’s what is inside a person. A shared bond, that is hard to explain, it’s a small town kinda thing I suppose.

We have issues here. Scandals, fights, grass in yards to tall, litter at the Basketball Courts, dogs barking, music too loud, local bars have “good stories” after midnight, Stop sign running, people going 35 in a 25, ya know, big time crime. I’ve been mad at a teacher or two, maybe three.

I had big plans to leave this one horse town when I was a teenager. I was gonna be somebody!  I hear a lot of kids say this. I smile. I never left. But the funny thing, it only took 20+ years to  understand, I am somebody. I am, well..me. The same sidewalks I ran on when I was in Grade school, I walk on as an adult, a beaten path. When the winds of change blow all around me, I walk on those same sidewalks, and know that as much as things change, is as much as they stay exactly the same.

I live in a small Ohio River Town. I am going to go pick up some stuff at  the store. I know I will run into my 11^th grade History Teacher along the way..on the same sidewalk…on the same beaten path of this life.

Peace!!

I often have times, when I actually can not find words to describe my feelings. Crazy, but true..

These are moments that I absolutely cherish. When you feel so much emotion, there really aren’t words for it. Births do that to me. A fresh new little wrinkled up baby.  A new life.

Death has done that to me. I was in the room when my Dad took a final breath.  I knew he was gone, because his essence left the room. His peace was gone from that room, but I also knew where he was headed. That is faith, and there really aren’t words for faith either.

People do that to me sometimes, both in a good way or a bad way I suppose. I have had a person look directly at me , right in to my eyes as if they are looking directly at my heart. No kidding, as odd as that sounds, it has felt like that. There are no words for that, just a connection that one can feel in the soul. This is someone to cherish, if they can do this. You don’t have to say a single word, you just feel. It’s ok anyway, because there are no words for that. On the flip of that , I have had a person or two look at me so hateful, they truly look directly though me. It’s chilling, and if a person can do that, they need feared. Or slapped, but go with fear, too many folks going around slapping one another is not a good idea anyway.  That is something there are words for, just use them wisely.

Putting words together, can sometimes sound like noise. I have had an enormous amount of quiet time lately. I may not even talk at all for hours on end. It’s good. Because there are no words for a feeling. A hope, a desire, a need, a tear, a laugh. Sure, those are words, but string those together, and you have a feeling. To cherish.

Spend a moment or two just looking at things in your life, and you will find yourself speechless.

PEACE!!

Music

I have been listening to an enormous amount of music lately. Filling my house with song, and some dancing, with my mop actually..good dancer.
Also singing, which , in the kitchen, it’s a great hall where I am Queen of the Night. Ok, that was dramatic.

I love music. All kinds, except maybe anything by Taylor Swift. Too much of a downer. I mean, get it together girl! In particular, I have been listening to a lot of Dave Matthews Band. I used to really like that music somewhere in the 90’s. I really had no idea about lyrics, just loved that it’s music. All of the songs are actually SUNG, and backed up by tremendous talent! But I listen now, to the lyrics. Truly, these songs are so meaningful. Love songs. Broken heart type songs, happy songs, all with very meaningful lyrics.

One that has stuck with me, I posted the link above to the You Tube lyric video.. “Grey Street.” I feel that is me. Not so much in the sense that I don’t think God hears my prayers, but I have felt like my prayers end up somewhere between me and the ceiling. Most people say not to question that, but I am still very human, and I do feel that way sometimes, even though I know somewhere deep inside, He does indeed hear. If you look at the Lyric, it may be quite sad. This girl has no “color.” She sees everything as Grey. Her heart is broke due to that. Even as her bleeding heart is red, it mixes together to Grey.

The kicker of this song, is it is filled with beautiful music. You can move to this song.

So..that’s for sure me. All kinds of complex, heart breaking stuff happening somewhere inside me, yet, the music of this life is filled with so much beautiful noise. Who wants to ever really change that???

Not me…

“ I live on the corner of Grey Street, and the end of the world…”

I highly recommend music. No matter, just well……SING!!!

PEACE!!!