My Mind Is Everywhere. My Heart Is With You.

The bracelet on my wrist is a piece of costume jewelry that I bought at a little store on the Champs d'Elysees in Paris in the early 1990's. I bought it not because it was anything particularly "French" at all but because of the saying imprinted around its band. This trip was one of my first experiences with travel. My husband and children were at home and I missed them. But at the same time, I was so excited to be in Paris and to be seeing things that I had never known I would see. It's because of this that I purchased the bracelet.  Its saying resonated so perfectly with what I was feeling at the time...."My mind is everywhere. My heart is with you."

Since that time, I've taken many trips and have had the joy of sharing some of those trips with people I love. My mom, my sisters, my husband, and my daughters have all accompanied me on various travels to various places. I love to experience new destinations with the people I care about and, sort of as a natural progression, have happily assumed the role of "planner of trips" in many cases. It's a role that I've taken on by osmosis but a role that I've worn proudly and hopefully managed successfully.

So it was today that I was a bit taken aback to realize that a role reversal had taken place - almost without my noticing, without my permission, without my forcing. And what a wonderful role reversal it is. 

I was excited to have the chance to plan a mini trip to Chicago to meet up with my daughter, Mollie, who will be in the city on a business trip all her own. I tried to take control from the beginning telling Mollie...."you just tell me where you need to be and I'll figure out what will work best for us" as far as when and where to meet, where to stay, how to get there, what to do. No sooner were the words from my lips when Mollie had suddenly taken the reins.

"Mom, this is what we're going to do. You will fly into Midway and I will pick you up after my last appointment that day. We will stay overnight near the airport and then in the morning, drop off MY rental car and HOP on a train into the city where I have a hotel reserved (already planned for our early arrival). We will spend a couple days in the city center and when it comes time to go home, we will get back on the train to the airport. Let's get on the phone and ticket our flights (on Delta of course, because that is where Mollie earns miles) and we can be sure to get our seats together on the flight home."  

Before I could even edge in a few "but shouldn't we do this?" questions, she had the plan in place and we were moving forward.

What?? How did that happen? I am supposed to be the one who makes the plans! But suddenly this child of mine has taken control, made the plans, and you know what? I kind of like it.

There were many times when the kids were growing up, that I worried about my traveling. I always promised that I would never miss anything major - I would never be gone for a birthday or a holiday. But to be honest, when you occasionally travel for your work, those major dates aren't really the ones that matter. When you find yourself somewhere far from your family and no matter how wonderful that place might be, you still recognize that you are missing something back at home - dinner after a day of school and work, bedtime stories, being there to comfort when someone has had a bad day or isn't feeling well. I had lots of those kinds of moments and though I valued how important they were, I also knew that it was important for me to be able to pursue what I loved to do. I think...or maybe just hope...that it made me a better parent.

When I could, I would try to share my travels. And I think...or maybe just hope....that I instilled a bit of travel-lust in my children and that I've been able to share some amazing experiences with them along with my sisters, my mom, and my husband. 

So today, as I had this amazingly wonderful and weird role reversal conversation with my daughter, I touched the bracelet on my wrist and remembered how I felt, what seems like a million years ago, and how it feels now - somewhat on the "other side" - with my children grown and actively pursuing their own lives and loves, and yet, I think....or maybe just hope....that they are carrying a bit of what I've shared with them along on their journey.

"My mind is everywhere. My heart is with you."

The Sisterhood Of The Traveling 25th Anniversary Pants

In many families, there is a special piece of clothing that holds such great sentimental value that it is lovingly passed on from one generation to the next, especially among the women. It might be your mother’s wedding dress, your grandmother’s veil, a Christening gown or a First Communion Dress. We have many of those things in our family but we also have something slightly unusual. We have begun a tradition of passing down “the amazing 25 year anniversary traveling pants” which were originally worn by my mother as she celebrated her 25^th anniversary with my dad in 1976.

 

It is probably the sheer fabulousness of these pants that makes them so worthy of passing along. They are in a style that, while probably very common in the early 1970’s, was certainly not common to my mom’s typical attire.  A crazy quilt pattern of black, white and silver geometric shapes interspersed with sequins and sparkles - for her 25^th anniversary, my mom was dressed like Cher.

 

I only saw her wear them that one time but she must have valued them because she held on to them and many years later when my sister Sue was celebrating her silver anniversary, the pants were resurrected.  Sue had the idea (or perhaps it was a dare) to wear them to her party. She did and danced all night long. Suddenly a new tradition was born.  Again, several years later, my other sister Deb received them from Sue and wore them for her celebration. Now it would seem that it is my turn as the pants quietly appeared in an unassuming package on my front step with a card from Deb passing them along. The assumption is that I will wear them later this summer when John and I celebrate our 25^th anniversary.

I am taller than both of my sisters and quite a bit taller than my mom, so when I tried on the magic pants, my first concern was the beauty of any tradition that requires you to wear high water pants for such a momentous occasion. By August, I must either shrink or, perhaps a less drastic alternative, have the hem let out.

When I got married, I carried a tiny beaded purse that my mom carried on her wedding day. It has been carried by many of the women in my family. When Mollie was baptized, she wore a gown that had been worn by me as well as some of my siblings and many of her cousins. And, on August 25, when I celebrate this next life turning point, I will be wearing the black and silver sequined pants that my mom wore on her own anniversary nearly 40 years ago. And afterwards, I will pack them up, set them aside in my cedar chest and eventually they will appear on the doorstep of the next woman in our family to celebrate 25 years.

Traditions can sometimes start without a thought. A pair of pants turns into a legacy that will carry on for many years. I’m thankful for these pants and all they represent - not just the symbolism of a 25-year marriage, but the love and tradition that carry on within a family.

What traditions are important in your family? What traditions can you begin creating today?

Technology Is Making Me Stupid...

I have loved photography since I was about 11 years old. I’ve progressed from fully automatic pocket cameras to mostly manual 35mm cameras, and then full circle back to fully automatic digital SLR cameras. Recently, my Dad handed down one of his 35mm film cameras and I decided to play with it a little bit to see if it still works. I think the camera still works. Unfortunately, the user is the problem. I realize that I’ve forgotten much of the knowledge and skills I used to have when I relied on myself rather than an automatic camera. Technology may be improving my photography but it is also making me stupid.

My mom gave me my very first camera – a fully automatic Kodak Instamatic – when I was in fifth grade. I fell in love with photography immediately. The camera made it easy - with the press of a button, a moment was recorded.

Eventually, when I was in high school, I decided that I wanted to upgrade to a 35mm film camera so I saved my money and one night, John drove me to LaBelle’s in Burnsville to make my purchase. I bought a Pentax camera with a standard kit lens and an accompanying telephoto lens. While some of the camera operations were automated, many functions were not so I needed to learn how to focus and how to set my aperture and shutter speed for correct exposure. I loved to experiment – trying different settings and techniques – and some of the photos taken during this time period are among my favorites. I also studied processing film and could enter a dark room, unload the film canister only by feel, add the appropriate chemicals, and process the negatives into prints.

Years later, John gave me my first digital camera and I have to be honest…I thought it was a passing fad – I thought film cameras were forever and I had no interest in going digital. Of course with time, film options were diminished and I transitioned to a digital SLR system. I’ve had many cameras since and though they all have the capacity to allow me to set everything manually, I often rely on the automatic settings – the camera focuses for me and determines the settings for correct exposure. I understand how to adjust these settings for the artistic impact that I’m seeking but in most cases, the camera is doing all the “heavy lifting”. Also, I have the benefit of looking at the camera screen immediately after taking a picture and readjusting my composition if necessary or retaking the photo in an attempt to correct any number of errors in the previous shot. I no longer need to wait for a visit to a dark room to see what I captured…and wouldn’t recall even the first step necessary in film processing.

Over the years, I’ve become the photographic repository in my family. Family photos, negatives, slides, home movies, and old photography equipment seem to find their way to me. So I was excited when Dad found this old film camera and was eager to give it a try. I went out on a beautiful Fall day and found the perfect subject. I lined everything up, tried to remember how to determine the best settings, and took the shot. I managed to get in one picture and then the battery died. Considering it had been in the camera for likely 20 or more years, it’s a wonder it worked at all. No rechargeables for this one….so it took me a couple months to find the time to seek out the appropriate battery and get it installed.

With the camera battery now fully functional, I headed out again this weekend and realized that much of what I once knew about photography, has been long forgotten as I’ve come to rely on allowing technology to take control. I had to relearn how aperture and shutter speed work together. I had to relearn how to focus the lens myself and had to relearn a proper photography stance which would allow me to hold focus long enough to take the picture. After taking each photo, I would out of habit immediately look to the back expecting to see a confirmation of the picture I had just taken. But there was nothing there to indicate to me if I had enough light, if the image was blurry or sharp, if the composition was appealing. I found it very unsettling as I walked away from each shot wondering “did I get it?” and knowing that there will be some time before I know for sure as I wait for the film to be developed.

I’ve grown accustomed to having technology that makes my life simpler and to the instant gratification that it provides. Ironically, one of the reasons that I love photography is that it forces me to slow down and appreciate the moment. What I’m seeing now, is that even the tools I use can have an impact on how much I slow down and how much I actually contribute to that moment. I need to remember to continually stretch myself trying new techniques so that I continue to learn instead of losing knowledge that I once had. Using technology to make my photography better, to make my life easier, but not allowing it to take over for what I should know and do for myself.

Now….I wonder how I can turn the channel on my TV without using my remote? I think I once knew how…

Heroes Don't Always Ride White Horses...

I got locked in my garage this morning. I guess to be technically accurate, I would have to say that I could have left anytime. My car, however, was locked in the garage, making it difficult for me to leave as a result.  Apparently the cables snapped on the electronic garage door, and the spring, and a host of other mechanical stuff so that my remote wouldn’t work, and the door couldn’t manually be lifted either. After pushing the button repeatedly and expecting different results, I realized that I was essentially locked in the garage and it was time to call John to come to the rescue. My "knight in shining armor" arrives, not on a white horse, but in a blue Chevy pickup truck.

Who do you call when you need a hero? I count on John to always have my back and hope that I do the same for him. He’s pulled me out of more situations than I could even count, fixed more things that I’ve broken, helped to mend friendships that I’ve severed, cleaned up messes, replaced ovens and microwaves that I’ve burned things in (but I digress – that is a post for another time). He’s helped me, our children, our grandchildren, my family, his family, our friends….the list goes on. I call him whenever I need a hero.

He isn’t the first hero that I’ve had in my lifetime and he isn’t the only hero that I have. My Dad was probably the first and remains my hero to this day. There isn’t much that he doesn’t know about and though I try to give him days of rest now (since he is 85 years old), there is no question in my mind that if I needed a hero, he would be there to help me find my way. My Mom is a hero too – she taught me about being a mother and still to this day, just when I think that I have her figured out, she surprises me in a way that shows me we never stop becoming who we are. My sisters have saved me from the brink of emotional disaster and talked me off the edge of the cliff since the day I was born, and my brothers have always been there – a quiet, steady force that I trust to always be on my side. My daughters save me all the time too – they challenge me to stay young, to question some of the things that I thought I knew or believed, and they bring me incredible laughter…often times when needed most.

My point is this. Heroes don’t always ride in on their white horses to save the day and receive recognition for what they’ve done in a newspaper or on the 5:00 news. Sometimes the true heroes in our lives are much quieter…and much more important. They save us daily. My hero is on frequently-used speed dial and he rode in this morning in his blue Chevy pickup truck.  Thank you, John, for all that you do.

I hope you have at least one hero in your life – it might not be who you expect. Maybe you could even take a moment today to thank them for saving you. They probably don’t need you to say it, and like true heroes, will shrug it off with a nod and tip of their hat, but do it anyway. Tell them “thank you”.

The Zombie Apocalypse Is Here ...

Warning To The Reader:  This post falls under the category of “Too Much Information”. Also viewer discretion is advised.

I can always count on my sister-in-law, Julie, to have her ear to the ground about the latest advancements and techniques in the beauty and self improvement industry.  And she is always generous with her knowledge. In fact, one of the Christmas gifts that I received this year was from her - it was a beauty treatment for your feet called “Baby Foot”.   What exactly is “Baby Foot” you might be wondering? Well, let me inform you…

"Baby Foot is an innovative foot care product that will make your feet as smooth and soft as a baby's foot. The unique formula of 17 types of natural extracts allow your feet to exfoliate naturally leaving them highly moisturized. This effective and gentle process removes the unwanted dead skin cells that have built up layer after layer. In addition, Baby Foot can improve other foot issues like: Foot Odor, Athletes Foot and Blood Circulation. So say goodbye to rough, dry, cracked soles, by using a product that really works!"

Essentially, it works like this. On a day when you have absolutely nothing better to do, set aside an hour to begin the treatment. After washing your feet, open the package which contains two Baby Foot booties – essentially plastic baggie “shoes” that are filled with 17 types of natural extracts….otherwise known as “goop”.  Tape the bags to your feet and place a pair of socks over them. Now just lounge around your house for the next hour and allow the goop to work its magic. (Wine drinking during this time is not discouraged, and in fact, I strongly encourage enjoying a glass.)  It is not recommended to walk anywhere while wearing your plastic booties as it is sort of like trying to walk on glare ice…in stilettos…with your eyes closed…after drinking wine.

After an hour has passed, remove the booties and rinse off your feet. That’s it. Nothing will have happened. So don’t look for miraculous changes. Your feet will literally not look or feel one bit different than they were an hour previously.

However, after a period of time, maybe 4-7 days, the dead skin on your feet will start to peel and slough off. The instructions describe this as a “gentle process”. Doesn’t sound so awful, does it?

Well…let me just tell you that the Zombie Apocalypse is here and it has begun with my feet. Exfoliating skin sounds sort of delicate. What I have going on is actual sheets of dead skin releasing from my lowest extremity. It is not delicate. And it is not pretty. (You can thank me now for saving you the trauma of looking at photos of my current feet.)

I’m told that eventually this peeling will stop and underneath, my new skin will be soft as a baby’s. We’ll see.

What I didn’t plan for when I put on my “Baby Foot” was the fact that yesterday I was scheduled for my annual physical exams.  And…of course…yesterday is when the “Baby Foot” really started to work. I tried to keep my socks on during the appointment but (Male Disclaimer/Warning/Spoiler Alert: you may want to stop reading here) as any woman knows, you aren’t always in control when your feet are in the stirrups.  The doctor apparently needed to see my toes in order to assess my….other regions. So she whipped off my socks before I could say a word of warning.

And, seriously, it was like it was snowing in the exam room. Dead skin everywhere! She said “what have you done to your feet?” I tried to explain to her that CLEARLY this was a BEAUTY treatment, done to make myself, specifically my feet, more BEAUTIFUL.  Duh.

She looked at me like I was crazy and just shook her head.

Maybe I am crazy. Over the course of my lifetime, I’ve participated in many “beauty” treatments that didn’t quite go as planned leaving me wishing that I had just left well enough alone. I guess I never learn. I don’t know if my feet will be softer when this is said and done, or that anyone else will notice or care, but with all this skin shedding from my body, maybe I’ve lost some weight?

My Very First Best Friend...

Her name was Kristi Jo and on that day, she became my very first best friend. Kristi’s family had just moved into the new house across the street from mine and though we would have only been 4 or 5 years old, my mom encouraged me to go over and ask her to play. That was just how we rolled in the early 1970’s – kids of all ages were safe to cross the street, safe to play in the neighborhood, and safe to enjoy being kids. She had the blondest hair I had ever seen and, I would come to know, that it would always be styled in curly pigtails secured with jeweled pony tail holders or tied with colorful yarn ribbons. I walked across the street and we eyed each other with a bit of suspicion and apprehension, like all children do when they first meet. But we then saw that we both had the same doll – “Baby Tenderlove” – and so we bonded immediately. She became my first best friend that day.

We had many days and many first adventures together. We grew up playing barbies and school and dress-up, hide and seek, tag, building snowforts, sledding, and swinging on our red swingset. We had the same first bikes – with banana seats, high curved handle bars with colorful pink streamers, white wicker baskets on front, and tall orange flags on the back so we could be seen by cars. We rarely played indoors. We always played together. Eventually, our games changed - “spin the bottle” with the neighborhood boys, and, more importantly, hours spent just talking and sharing a million little secrets. We learned so much from each other - she taught me about being a friend.

As the years went on, we grew apart as people often do – different schools, different friends, different experiences. But, in a small town, we were lucky to run into each other fairly often and we could catch up on each other’s lives. Seeing her face across a crowd and hearing her amazing laugh always felt like “home” to me.

On another day, I learned she had passed away. That day, I lost my very first best friend. She was much too young to die. I attended the funeral as did so many whose lives she had touched in her time here. All the friends gathered there had known her at different times in her life, some as adults, some as teenagers, and some, like me, as small children. We all grieved.

I remember both days so clearly. That day that I first met her. That day that I said a final good-bye. Although, our lives are filled with these kinds of days – somehow the important ones are remembered. We were blessed to have had many days together to play outside in the sunshine, to laugh together, and to grow up together. I think about Kristi often. She became my very first best friend on that day when we were not even old enough to write our own names. On that day, I was very blessed.

 

 

Tomorrow, January 11, will be Kristi's birthday and I will be thinking of her. Happy birthday, Kristi, and thank you for your friendship...

Let's Just Go....And Not Come Back...For Awhile

So this is how it begins…a simple email from my sister with the subject line that reads “Sibling Trip?”   Immediately, I start to drool thinking about navigating a road trip somewhere, researching hotels and restaurants along the way, not to mention points of interest that will appeal to us all. I start to imagine what cute outfits I might pack and the best way to minimize my list in order to allow room for all the technology necessary for a sibling trip: camera, iPod, iPhone, iPad, chargers, laptop, etc. I can picture us at the end of a day of travel, sitting on a deck somewhere lifting a glass of wine as we watch the sun set.
 

However, it seems that my sister has another kind of trip in mind. Her email read much as follows:

“Let's hike the Superior Trail later this year – just like the Donner Party did years ago.  Let's hike enough that we can camp out a couple of nights. Come on!! Who's with me? I know there might be parts of it where we are a bit Billy Crystal in "City Slickers" but let's not underestimate ourselves.  I will do this even if you all turn me down but since I have NO idea how GPS works you will all have to hike anyhow when the search party is formed! We’ll count on Mike to watch the sky for smoke signals and Dad can man the cabin in Hovland in case a search and rescue party is needed.   At the end of the trip, we all head to Trail Center and raise a glass. Who's in?”

What? She seriously mentioned the Donner Party, smoke signals and search and rescue in one message….and meant it to be enticing.  And the sickest part of this is...I fell for it.  “Hell Yeah! I’m in!” was my reply. 

My brother Greg quickly emailed to clarify…did she mean that we should literally hike the trail? Like actually walking? He pointed out that even in the movie “City Slickers”, they got to ride horses. And he has a very valid concern about who is going to be carrying the beer.  But he is “in”.

My sister Deb rejoiced in the fact that after years of us teasing her about her 21-day survival underwear, bear spray, a week without showering, and her “go-girl” (more about that in a later post), we would now be joining her  as we peruse the REI website for backpacking necessities. She also pointed out that hydro-packs can also carry wine.  She is “in”.

My brother Steven is likely traveling today so he hasn’t yet had a chance to respond.  But there is no question in my mind, he will be “in”.

So assuming that my oldest brother Mike will support us as home base, and Dad will be willing to be on-call for search and rescue…it looks like we might do this crazy thing.

There is nothing I love more than planning…for anything. So I immediately started seeking out information about what a backpacker needs to pack in their bag and how to find the right size/fit backpack.  I found a training plan for hiking as well as exercises to strengthen areas specifically important for a backpacking adventure. And then it just started to get crazy….soon I was finding out how to make homemade toothpaste pellets (recipe to be shared in a later post) and how to make single use packs of first aid ointments using straws and a lighter.

Then my second favorite activity started….worrying.   I mean, Greg had a good point…how ARE we going to carry in all the beer? And what about mosquitos? And snakes? And going to the bathroom (again, we are back to the Go-Girl….more on that later). And what if we get lost (let’s face it…that’s something that I’ve been known to do)? And how will I go for hours….let alone days….without technology? No iPhone? No iPad? This is truly crazy talk at this point.

But then as I continued to research, I found a quote that resonated….”Let’s just go…and not come back…for awhile.”  Planning and worrying aside, I’m “in”.

It remains to be seen if the trip will happen later this year.  Trust me, I’ll continue to report on any updates as we go.  I hope it happens but even if not, sometimes the fun is in the planning or the dreaming.  I’m sure we’ll have many conversations in the months ahead. We’ll make lots of jokes about our ability to do this and we’ll make serious plans to work our way towards our goal. It’s only the beginning of January and it looks already like it is going to be a very, very long winter. So there is a simple joy in thinking about the warmer weather ahead and about having a drink together at the end of the day – whether our travels have taken us shopping on the Miracle Mile (which to be honest, is more my kind of hiking) or we’ve traveled to the top of a ridge in Northern Minnesota with a view that goes on for miles. I’m hoping that we can just go…and not come back for awhile…