Blowing Through the Jasmine in my Mind

I love summer. I love every hot, humid moment. The other day I was outside working and I had sweat behind my knees and I was so happy I almost passed out. I always anticipate the summer like a small child who can't stand the wait until their birthday. There are all these first momentous moments that tell me it's getting closer; the first time I wear flip-flops, the first time I wear shorts, the first time I open the sun roof in the car...all telling me that hope springs eternal.

It has turned out to be a stellar spring. I decided that the first weekend in May was my "opening summer weekend." It was the perfect blend of fun activities and productivity that make a summer weekend perfect. (i.e. yard work, garage cleaning, car cleaning, a baseball game in Fort Wayne, a bonfire, a knit-in, shopping for outdoor furniture...) Mix that up with the perfect weather and you have a weekend that makes life worth living.

Making this spring even more special is that for the first time, Brian and I have a back yard that we enjoy spending time in. I love being outdoors as much as possible but our backyard didn't really have space for relaxing and was just kinda - yick! - even though I tried and tried to make it inviting. So last summer began the big patio make-over...which took the entire summer and meant that our back yard was even more of a disaster than ever before. We got it done just in time for the winter. Here are some before and during pictures...so you can see the mess that we lived with last summer.

So this spring it's like we woke up to a whole new backyard! We purchased a few items for the empty patio and now - voila! - a backyard that makes us not ever want to go inside to vacuum or do anything else that needs to be done. Here are the preliminary results. It's still a work in progress.

We drag a radio outside and chill at the table eating (I have declared that we shan't eat in doors until November) or we have a fire in our little fire pit and all is right with the world. And the piece de resistance:

Brian was all talking smack to me about how cheesy I was when I showed up at the cash register with my package of white lights for the umbrella (he also thought I was ridiculous for not choosing one color for the patio table chairs but getting one of each). But, he faithfully strung those lights up like a champ, and these lights make our patio completely festive, like we're on vacation every moment that we're back there. So until we get our dream house out in the country, I am completely content, more than that, really happy right where we are.

My Crowning Glory

I've had my share of issues with the aging process, but I feel like I've learned to embrace it fairly well. I've even watched those gray hairs pop up in my dark brown hair with increasing frequency, and, after the initial falling-to-my-knees, weeping, and asking-God-"why me?" jag, I've been completely fine with them. Really, I want to grow old gracefully, embrace my gray hair like those really cool earthy (a.k.a. hippie) moms with their salt and pepper pony tails and containers of home made hummus they bring to the park for their childrens' snack. Gray hairs? Whatever. You can take your shame inducing tendencies and bury them in a box. My gray hairs will serve as my badge of honor showing how mature and independent I am. Not vain at all. Not me.

But I'll fess up. I've been fine with those grays because, for the most part, they stay concealed under my still-brown curtain of hair. Most of them reside on the right side of my head, kind of level with the top of my ear. So they get lost in the rest of my hair. But I know they're there and they don't bother me a bit. (Remember, the badge of honor bit.) My hair stylist, Jason, constantly wants to flip my hair and part it on the other side. And I'm all, dude, that is where the hot bed of grays lie. Don't uncover them! The oxygen will probably make them multiply. But I go home, flip my hair back, safely covering the evidence of my lost youth. (And don't get me wrong, Jason is the best stylist I've ever been with. He just wants me to appear old evidently.)

And then the real kicker ocurred. One night while getting ready to head out, there it stood in the mirror. Staring back at me was one lone gray hair standing proudly IN THE MIDDLE OF MY PART. This one declared war. This one said, "Who are you trying to kid lady? You can't hide us forever you old hag." I feel differently about this lone ranger. He'll inevitably need a kemo sabe.

And so now, I don't know how I feel about the salt and pepper ponytail mom anymore. She seems so cliche. Do I dye the hair, pluck the hair, accept the hair? I've never thought of myself as vain but...I guess I think this blog is about me.

New Layout

Alright folks, here is my new layout...which I spent close to three hours (or what felt like at least 18 hours) trying to figure out how to put in place. And while I like it, it's not the one at the top of my list necessarily, it's just the ONLY ONE THAT WOULD WORK. I can not begin to tell you how much I have come to hate anything with "xml" in it because all I get are errors and I don't understand code and I should never have started messing with it in the first place. But then it became a mission and I was determined to not be defeated. However, after succeeding, I still feel defeated.

And I have not been updating here as much as I should. I feel guilty but then I remind myself that this is supposed to be for fun. But Brian and I finally have a patio we enjoy sitting on and Indiana has finally released it's icy grip on winter - thus, my time has been spent outside. And somehow dragging the laptop outside with me sort of feels like I'm defeating the purpose of being out there. I guess it's all about balance. I'll try to post some entries in the next few days in case anyone wants to know what's been going around the Showalter house.

Happy Mother's Day to All!!!

Oh Fooey Moment

I attended a funeral on Thursday morning (for the man who commit suicide). I was to play piano for special music and some hymns and provide postlude. I spent some time with the family and vocalists on Wednesday to plan out the music. Luckily one of the vocalists was comfortable leading hymns so that I could accompany because one the congregational songs ("In the Bulb there is a Flower") really requires accompaniment. The other congregational song was the hymn "Wonderful Grace of Jesus." Such a great hymn! On Thursday morning driving to the church I was excited beyond all reason that I was going to get to sing alto on "Wonderful Grace of Jesus." I'm normally the one leading hymns and I'm, decidedly, an alto. I love singing alto. I'm constantly in mourning about singing soprano all the time because I'm leading. But I was going to sing alto on that beautiful morning and I couldn't wait!

I get to the funeral and park myself on the front bench so I can easily access the piano. I arrange my music tidily beside me. I even open the hymnal to "Wonderful Grace of Jesus" so that after accompanying the first congregational song I could race back to the pew, gather up my hymnal, and not even miss one measure of glorious alto singing. So I accompany the first hymn. It goes well. It finishes and I practically sprint back to the pew, pick up my hymnal, and look at the song leader with anticipation. Here is the inner dialogue that followed:

I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready!

The song leader is looking at me. Is he waiting for me to be ready to start singing? How considerate of him.

He's making eye contact with me. Yes mister song-leader, I'm ready to go. (He must sense how excited I am. Nod your head to let him know he can start.)

Why does he keep looking at me?

He's motioning with his hand. That's strange.

HE'S MOTIONING TOWARD THE PIANO! Oh no! He wants me to play.

(Me, popping up and heading to said piano.)

I don't get to sing! Oh the humanity! (Sniffles inwardly.)

(Sitting down at the piano)

Oh fooey! Bob did ask me to accompany this! I remember it now so clearly. I really dropped the ball on this one.

(Positioning hymnal on the piano.)

I have never played this song on the piano. Fingers don't fail me now.

(Begins to play.)

So there it was. Poor guy. He didn't have a pitch pipe, how was he gonna start a hymn? My excitement blinded me. It went fine though. I apologized later. And on a serious note, for what could have been such a sad and tragic funeral, this is one of the nicest, most touching and meaningful funerals I've ever been to. What a testament to a loving family. Rest in peace Mark.

Face to Face with Mortality

Three viewings in two weeks. This is the most concentrated season of mourning that I think I've ever been part of. All of them tragedies. They weren't the kind where Great Aunt Millie was 98 and had lived a full life and died peacefully in her sleep. All were cases of the deceased being gone, seemingly, too soon.

The first, a 55 year old man who passed away due to a medication error that occurred in the early and darkest hours of the morning. (The nurse administered insulin to a non-diabetic.) After a week in a coma, he passed away.

The second, a 72 year old man who had battled illness the last several years. His quality of life was quite poor and his golden retirement years were not what he and his wife had dreamed of.

The final, a 40 year old man who tragically succumbed to depression. There are no words for this one. This one is unspeakably painful for his family and friends.

But these viewings have been places where I have seen the best that humanity can be in many ways. I have seen moments of forgiveness and reconciliation. I have seen friends reunite over tragedy. I have glimpsed both vulnerable and sentimental moments taking place. These last two weeks have opened my eyes to the value of viewings. I guess I've always wondered what the point of a viewing really is. I suppose they are just rites that humans need to process sorrow, to offer comfort, to allow us to realize that we are part of a large community of humanity. And I need to be more willing to attend them.

So, tomorrow morning I head to another funeral where I give the only thing I can really offer of any value in situations like this - music. I only hope that my piano playing can speak to the sorrow that my words can not address, and offer comfort.

It Ain't Easy Being Green

Donning the rubber gloves and checking out my dog's nether regions was enough of an unpleasant experience for one night. He was really quite good for the entire session. Although, I don't know if I really helped him. I did some research on the web for reasons my dog might have the "itch"...one common reason that surfaced was boredom. Oh gah! I now have to entertain my dog lest he chew his leg off! What kind of horrible pet owner am I that my dog is so bored that he turns to self mutilation for some kind of stimulation? So now I've had to put down my knitting to, you know, play ball with him and take him on a walk. Such a burden.

But the unpleasantries did not end with the wound tending. I LOVE green salsa. LOVE. IT. I'm just crazy over it and can finish an entire bottle in a sitting. However, I've come to discover that the green salsa is not such a big fan of me. I don't know when this began but it is a cruel twist of fate. And approximately every six months I decide that I should try it again. I convince myself that last time the horrible pain I suffered was due to something else I ate, or that I hadn't been sleeping well recently, or that my stomach acids hadn't matured enough to handle the green stuff. And I'm always sure this time will be different. So the sweet husband that Brian is, he bought me a big bottle of the good stuff at the local Mexican grocery. And last night it called my name, beckoning me to give it one more shot, promising me this time would be different. I was skeptical but I thought I could maybe have just a little bit mixed with ranch...the milk in the ranch dressing would mellow out the green salsa right?

Fast forward to 2:00 in the morning where I am curled up on the floor of the bathroom praying for a swift death. I am convinced that the green salsa, upon hitting my stomach lining, has transformed into the mighty fist of the very angry hulk - and he's taking it out on my innocent tummy. This is how it always goes. Me lying there on the bathroom floor, praying that if there is a God (and at this point I'm not convinced there is one because a loving God would surely not have let green salsa ever come into existence) that I would please like to vomit immediately and purge myself of this poison. I don't think that's so much to ask. If God can part the Red Sea for the Israelites I don't think it will take too much heavy lifting on God's part to help me to disgorge the contents of my stomach. This might be sacrilege - but at 2:00 a.m. I simply don't care. But there was no relief to be found, only Reggie, worriedly licking my face and tormenting me with his concern. I crawled back into bed and, thankfully, found sleep.

I am writing this blog to remind myself that, should I EVER get the urge to eat green salsa again, I should be prepared for great misery. PUT THE JAR DOWN FUTURE LISA! This will not end well for you.

Just Another Boring Blog

Here's a little update on the goings-on at the Showalter residence this week. Frankly, it's a bit boring. I've become a boring person. Oh well, I guess there are worse things to become - like a horrible, ugly, jerk. I'll take boring.

Knittery: I'll start with a week ago Saturday. I got up early (8:45 a.m.), on my own, without crying or whining, on a Saturday morning to go...to a knit-in at my local yarn store! I was a little nervous considering I wouldn't know anyone there. Would I fit in? Would they think my project was lame or that my stories were dull? Would they tell me, in as many words, that my kind was not welcome? When I got home at noon Brian asked how it was and I replied, "It was only the best time ever." Something about sitting around knitting with a bunch of people and having idle and interesting chit-chat, enjoying each others company and admiring their work is so relaxing and energizing. Conversation ranged from knitting projects to books we're reading to bras. Even though these are strangers conversation is easy and enjoyable. We do, after all share a common interest which is a good start. And everyone is pretty much looking at their hands, lest they drop a stitch, which provides a safety in sharing. None of this intense eye-contact business. They meet the first Saturday of the month and I intend to become a regular.

Here's the project I finished that day. I call it my "I am Woman, Hear Me Roar" bag. Because it's really the first project I've done completely on my own.



Cleanery: Last week was spring break around here, so I didn't have piano lessons. And the weather was beautiful and it made me want to spring clean. And so on Monday I turned into a mean, cleaning machine. (Here's where that "I've turned into a boring person" really comes into play.) I had to pick and choose my projects because I so wanted to turn this house upside down in my cleaning frenzy. But I got a lot done. What is it about a day of thorough cleaning that makes me feel like a productive and worthwhile citizen? Wow that was rewarding. I really need to wash my windows though. I'm embarrassed to say how long it's been. But the last time I did it a bird immediately flew into my clean window and dropped dead. I decided it was a sign from God that I should not have clean windows. But I think even Jesus would be shaking his head in disgust at the current state of my windows.

Friendery: We've recently started playing Rummy with friends of ours, which is a darn good time. That's how old and boring we've gotten. But I also had a great time at the Theater with my friend Heather on Friday night. We saw a great production of "Annie." Which leads me to...

Vacationery: On Saturday morning we had the most lovely and fun Easter breakfast with my family. We had to have Easter breakfast a day early because I then had to get Brian to Da-Lite so he could catch a flight to Holland. Again. (Over Easter? Really Da-Lite?) So he's trotting around Amsterdam right now and I have another week of solitude. Although this time I'm not quite as excited about it. I talked to him a few minutes ago and told him to tell me what he's seen. All he could say was, "Well, we've seen everything...You know." No, I don't know. Name some names. Give some detail. "Well, we've just seen a bunch of stuff. Everything really." Thank you for such a compelling and detailed account of your travels abroad. I can't wait to hear more about you seeing "stuff" and talking to "people" about "things." But, after finding out that he would be heading to Europe again Brian didn't feel any compunction about Heather and I heading to England!!! So, plane tickets have been purchased and travel guides bought and Heather and I are making plans to have tea with the Queen! (The last part is a lie but I would like a spot of tea while there.)

Pettery: So, for now it's just me and the animals around here. After the trip to the vet last week with Fitty, I now have another animal with undignified itching. Reggie's hind-end seems to be giving him trouble. So tonight I shall don my rubber gloves and attempt to do some unpleasant veterinary-type procedures and see if I can heal him. It should be a very fulfilling evening.

That's all for now. More boring blogs to follow...