BORN TO BE MILD

As I get older, that edge I once teetered on no longer is an edge. It’s more a quiet stroll amongst the herd with no edge in sight. I can’t begin to tell you my dislike for mellowing with age and although it seems to happen to the best of us, every now and then when that wild hair still tickles, I still listen. Okay, it’s not exactly a wild hair anymore. It’s more like an annoying itch that needs to be scratched a little. I have a friend (name excluded to protect the guilty) who definitely understands my need to be "bad" every now and then and indulges me by letting me scratch my itch. Whenever we go see a movie we most always "double-dip". This custom started when we went to see Star Trek. I suppose after watching something that made me think about my misspent youth, I was inspired to scratch the itch by doing a double-dip (the second movie I didn’t pay to see). I walked out of one movie and into another. There definitely are advantages of being an average middle-aged woman. We blend in with the scenery! So as I sat and watched the second movie, The Ghosts of Girlfriends Past I did so with a smile on my face. When I realized I was smiling at my own actions and not at anything I was watching, I actually laughed out loud. Age really has mellowed me and that wild hair is so easily sated these days. 

Gratitude statement: I'm grateful to have gone from being born to be wild to being born to be mild all in one lifetime!

*Repost from October 28, 2010

MEET THOR

Thor is the newest addition to my family. My partner in crime and lifelong friend, Linda aka Martha raises Corgis. She and her husband, Max gave me an adorable tri-color Corgi puppy (I'm so excited) I know my other furbabies, Fenway, B.A., Libby and Tara will go through an adjustment period, but everyone will be the best of friends before too long. 

Thor in his Christmas sweater

Thor says , "I'm a handsome boy!"

AN AFTERNOON AT THE BEACH

Yesterday was a difficult day for me as I reflected on my mother's death and emptied a box a Kleenex by 10am. I felt grateful for my friend, Jesse who chatted with me up until I decided I needed to get out and get some fresh air and clear my head. Then my friend and partner in crime, Linda (Martha) took over. We took quick spin out to the beach. It wasn't a bright, sunny day, but that was okay...it was 76 and the day was more like how I felt. I wanted to be strong because that's how my mother would want me to be, but when you love someone and they are no longer there and are gone forever, it makes for a gray type of day. 

There was a hint of blue and every now and then the sun teased us and tried to come out.

The Redneck Riviera at her finest! lol

We drove past the parking lot and found a spot that looked good. Off in the distance you can see some higg rises and the good thing about this part of Florida is that it isn't wall to wall high rises yet.  This is what the beaches look like.

I didn't even see many seagulls out flying around. 

A lonely shell someone left behind.

As the waves flattened the surfers, got out of the water.

A hint of blue sky!

I was glad to see that the winter has been used to replace some of the boards on the boardwalks.

Our sand is almost as white as snow, but a lot better because it doesn't need to be shoveled!

A lovely pic of my knees!

And one of my knees and shoes! lol

This is Linda gazing off down the beach (most likely watching the men in their speedos) What a wicked woman she is!

Linda was scanning the horizon and is deep in thought. She didn't know I was taking her picture and claimed nobody ever gets a decent pic of her. Looks like I proved her wrong!

 

As you see there isn't many people out here and believe it or not even in the summer our beaches don't get super crowed.

 

One surfer who came out of the water and peeled off his wet suit had a wicked sunburn. Oh, he was going to feel it later that evening.

Just more sugar white sand as far as the eye can see and water.

When we first got there, people were out surfing, but the waves started dissipating soon after.

WALKING THE GANGPLANK WITH MARTHA

Occasionally we meet people who can give their friendship without some kind of price tag attached. I was fortunate to have found several friends at an early age who not only loved unconditionally, but also withheld making judgment calls as well. My first memories of having friends date back before I went to school. My neighborhood was filled with families who had children of all ages. In my minuscule world that encompassed 4 or 5 houses, Linda was among my first friends. 

She was a soft-spoken, friendly child who later became the hot vixen all redheads seem to become. Our time together was always an adventure as we went from playing with dolls and hopscotch to skipping school and lusting after boys to becoming reunited after missing all those years in the middle where people become adults and have families. I’ve always tended to gravitate towards the edge and tested any boundaries that stood in my way. It’s where I felt most comfortable. Maybe it was the suspense, the thrill, the uncertainty of the outcome that made teetering on the edge so appealing to me. Whatever it was, that certain something was a definite factor in what kept a smile on our faces in those days of our adolescent angst. 

When I think of what a bad influence I was on so many of my friends, I now feel a little regret, but I won't lie...I also smile as I remember the progression of things and the fun involved. Back in those days among many other things, we became quite familiar with 5 finger discounts. As we built our collection of free make-up, jewelry, records, clothes and whatever else struck our fancy at the time (all things we really didn't "need"), it was the thrill of seeing how outrageous we could be that kept us going back for more. Why we were never caught is beyond me, but I suppose it was more dumb luck than skill that keep us on the right side of the law. 

By the time we were teenagers, my attic was transformed into a place to wile away the hours skipping school, while we waited for my mother to go to work at 2:30 each afternoon. Anything in my house that wasn't being used seemed to always found its way to the top floor making the attic a true cornucopia of treasures. As our collection of discarded paint cans grew, the whole spectrum of colors was represented. We had purple that was used to paint one of the bathrooms and blue from the other. I snagged what was left from when my mother had painted on an old sea captain's trunk a most delightful shade of tangerine. Buttercup yellow from the kitchen and lime green from my bedroom were among the many colors we collected. As we collected our decorating materials, we decided that what needed to be done was some original artwork to adorn our sanctuary. Jackson Pollock's "drips" had nothing over the hand prints we put all over the walls and large-planked wooden floors. 

My only regret is that I never took any pictures of it. Years later after my house was sold and the new owners discovered my magical hideaway in attic, they made several inquiries to my cousin who lived next door about the artwork in the attic. What a surprise it must have been for them stepping into what appeared to be a colorful insane asylum (if they only knew how true that was). Many, many years later my eyes twinkle as I think about last summer when I was "home". Somehow it seems fitting that the person who blossomed into a ravishing redheaded vixen is the saucy tart who insisted on giving me a blue streak in my hair that "would wash right out". Ha! All I can say is "thank you, Linda" for reminding me that growing old may be inevitable, but growing up especially when in the company of old, dear friends is quite optional and never preferred.