Crime and Beer

I joined the neighborhood Crime Watch committee. The members are close to my age and they wooed me, promising fun and beer. Maybe I’ll invite them to our neighborhood Bunco.

I arrive at Peggy’s for my first meeting. There are name tags in the entry. That’s okay; I see a bucket of beer. We take our places in her living room. No one grabs a beer. I’m asked by the committee which month I’d like to walk the neighborhood at night to make sure everyone is compliant with their outdoor lights.

“Uh, I don’t walk at night. I could get mugged.”

Oh, okay you don’t need a month. For those of you who have a month, if you find someone’s lights aren’t on just knock on their door and tell them. They may not realize their lights are out.

“Uh, if you knock on my door at night, I won’t answer. You could be a murderer.”

Oh, right. Let’s write down the addresses and send emails. Now, what about bushes? People need to keep their bushes low. Email anyone whose bushes are over 3 feet tall. Also, check out the houses with side entrances, those people should have their porch lights on. A burglar could spend all night on one of those dark porches.

More emails. I want a beer.

Next on the agenda – Bluff Road has overgrown brush almost covering the sidewalks. That is part of our community, but the city needs to take care of it. Someone could be hiding in that brush and grab a walker. And, I’ve seen coyote footprints. It’s dangerous. Joe, can you call the mayor’s office?

“I walk on Bluff Road all the time. Where is this brush?”

Which way do you walk?

“North, south, all over it and on both sides of the street.”

Well, then you’re walking right through it.

“I am? I haven’t notice brush.”

Do you take your phone when you walk?

“Yes, with earbuds and Pandora blaring. Now, I’ve got to worry about thugs and coyotes?”

Not for long. If the mayor doesn’t clean it up, our committee will clear it out. Everyone knows which month they have and Joe’s going to take care of Bluff. Now, who wants a beer?

I’ve never waited so long for a beer in my life.

“I’ll have one.”

I’m not telling this group about Bunco.

I didn’t know “brush” meant 30 ft. trees, and I didn’t realize this is not near our property. I will not be ripping trees out with the committee…maybe the mayor will do it. I’ll be okay on this committee if I can drink a lot, not get arrested, and stay alive. Crime Watch can be dangerous!

Daughters and Their Babies

Winter Storm 2014

Winter Storm … Sunday, January 5 – Thursday, January 8, 2014

The storm was set to begin late Saturday or early Sunday morning. Six to 12″ of snow with wind chill up to minus 50 degrees. Media issued a constant stream of warnings… I had heard a lot of warnings in the past few decades.

Jill began texting me and Jan Saturday morning Snow supposed to start at 7:30. Getting my emergency action plan ready. What are you going to do if the power goes out? Do you have firewood? Enough bottled water if the heat doesn’t work? Jan will be okay, she doesn’t shower. Leave the faucets dripping. Do you have high protein food that doesn’t need to be cooked if the power goes out? What if the power goes out and it’s minus 45 degrees? Fill your gas tanks. Better to have a plan and not need it than no plan and die! I have a big headache right now. Means the snow is coming. I can predict weather with my brain. Snowpocolypse is coming.
Jan’s response: OMG I’m going to shower so I don’t have to the rest of the week. I have no food, no gas, no plan. We’ll probably just die…surviving sounds too hard.
Me: I’ll buy milk.

By Sunday morning, Jan and I were listening to Jill and the storm warnings. Snow was falling fast. This would be a record breaking storm; talked about for decades. Jill asked Jan what she was going to do if her heat went out and her car wouldn’t start or she was unable to drive? What about your kids?

Sunday morning, Jan and Chris come to my house because they often lose power and their car stays outside. My underground power lines made my house appear safer. The plan was to put my car in the driveway and Jan’s SUV in my garage. I knew that wouldn’t go unnoticed so I told my neighbor, Mary Ann, our plans.

Jan, Chris, the kids, and both pugs arrived around 11 a.m. on Sunday. The snow continued to fall and the temperature began to quickly drop. We played in the snow before the deep freeze.

I loved having Jan, Chris, the kids and pugs here for 2 days. They brought lots of food. Both are great cooks. We pretended it was a vacation. We ate and watched movies and played games and ate and took crash naps and then ate some more. We texted with Jill non-stop and threw in some Facetime.

I’m sure Jan and Chris would have preferred to be home, but the kids and I loved it. On Monday evening when Chris decided they were safe to return home, the kids and I were disappointed. They voiced it. I didn’t. It was time for them to go… Adults want to be in their own home. Chris cleaned the snow from my car, packed up their car, returned my car to the garage, and they headed home at 5:30. I gave them a snow shovel and a down comforter for the kids if they should get stuck trying to get home.

They didn’t get stuck in the snow and the kids didn’t get the comforter. Newman had a nice ride home.

At 5:40, ten minutes after Jan left, Mary Ann called to see if I was okay since my car was missing from the driveway. It’s nice to know someone’s always watching. I live in a great neighborhood full of nosey neighbors who want to help. While the kids were here, we needed ketchup for the their French fries, so I tried to borrow some. The neighbor I called didn’t have any. She called another neighbor without telling me, who hiked through 12 inches of snow to deliver it to our front door.

Jan and Chris arrived home safe and warm; Henry with his new dice and Ruth with her new makeup, which is always applied to her left eye. Jan thanked me for helping Ruth look abused.

It’s Tuesday evening and our city is still cold. Too cold for the salt to work on the roads. The office is closed again Wednesday and my gym is closed because of frozen pipes. I’m one of the lucky ones not forced to go out, but still antsy hanging out at home. The house is back to normal, laundry finished, not much else needs to be done… I’m writing, playing on the internet, and looking forward to Spring. Right now, anything above 30 degrees will feel like Spring.

Just Do It

Diet – Accountability Partners

My weight gain came later in life, which left me scrambling to figure out what to do.

I joined fitness gyms and bought fitness equipment. I tried diet supplements, aids, pills, bars, and frozen dinners. I tried my mother’s egg diet, my aunt’s grapefruit diet, and my neighbor’s Sleeping Beauty diet. I read dozens of books on scientific breakthroughs. I joined Weight Watchers, Nutri-System, and Jenny Craig. I fasted four months on a medically supervised liquid-only diet. I joined internet weight-loss programs, which tracked every calorie. I tried yoga, Pilates, and meditation. I committed to multiple life-style changes. I kept food journals, counted carbs, and permanently banned donuts and Big Macs. I own 34 work-out DVDs and VHS tapes ranging from nice guy, Richard Simmons to the terminator, Jillian Michaels. I’m sometimes at a good weight, but more often on a yo-yo… 30 up – 20 down – 10 up – 5 down…

I’ve been on a diet for 20 years.

I never choose diets or strategies on a whim. I hear about them. A fat person loses fat and then tells me how to lose fat. I’m convinced it works and I can do it, too. Later I run into the advisor and we’re both fat.

This time is different. For the past 10 months, I’ve been losing weight and getting fit the hard way, which is the right way, which is supposed to become the natural-easy way, eventually resulting in a permanent way of life.

I’m networking with different kinds of people; some former fatties, some athletes, some wanting to lose weight, or get stronger or healthier. We met on a dating site. I internet chat with these people every day…they are available 24/7. We call ourselves Accountability Partners (APs). We share our health and fitness goals each day. In sharing we teach and learn. I’m mostly a student.

Many days my workouts happened because of a promise I made to my APs in the morning.

I’ve lost over 20 lbs., but even better I’ve built endurance working out at least four times a week. I’m stronger and I’m faster. I’m not a graceful jogger, but I try. I watch and I listen to my APs. I would not be where I am today without them.

I’ve never met daily requirement for fruits or veggies, so when I learned many of my APs experience weight-loss and increased energy by juicing, I bought a juicer. The raw fruit and veggie pictures on the juicer box were beautiful. The promises in the literature made me want to become a juicing maniac.

By using the juicer, I’ll have beautiful hair, skin and nails; an enhanced mood, increased energy, and increased athletic performance (I can use that when I jog). Juicing will improve my digestion, sleep, cholesterol, and blood pressure. Over time, I will see a visible decrease in wrinkles and improved elasticity.

Day 1 – I head to the grocery. Many juicers use kale, but I was told beginners will want spinach because it’s not as bitter. I don’t want bitter. I want delicious. I return home with bananas, apples, strawberries, mango, red pepper, broccoli, and lots of spinach. I clean the produce and make my first juice. It’s ugly. I drink it. It’s not as good as I had hoped, but not bad. Later in the day, I make a second juice with different ingredients. I can’t drink it. I add strawberries and bananas and finish the drink. I don’t like it. I need to acquire a taste. I finish 8 cups of juice.

Day 2 – I wake with stomach pains. My stomach never hurts. It’s either the juice or a virus. I wait until 1 p.m. to make my first juice. It’s extra ugly…thick green; smells like wet grass. I sip and then add 6 strawberries. I pour it over ice. Ice might help. I sip, I gag. I continue this pattern long enough to drink about ¼ cup. One more gag is going to induce a horrible juice reflux. I make chicken tortilla soup; delish!

Day 3 – I’ll decide whether the juicer stays. I’ve been doing this diet stuff long enough to know there are millions of scientific findings and roads to fitness. Juicing is very expensive and my taste buds are screaming Gag Me. At the end of the day the juicer leaves!

This Baby Boomers Real Life

Neighborhood Association Meeting

For the past six months, I’ve been trying to get in shape and lose weight. My goal is to live longer, build stamina, and improve my cardiovascular health. I downloaded an app Couch 2 5 K. It’s a program designed to help you run a 5K. (I know I’ll not be able to run a 5K, but still this is good exercise.) I’ve been using the APP as I walk/run in the neighborhood.

I was at a neighborhood association dinner tonight. One of our “honest” residents, 86-year-old Lou, said she saw me jogging.

Debbie, I saw you out doing something. You might have been jogging, I’m not sure.

“Oh, yeah. I try to jog, but I can’t really do it.”

Well, I tooted my horn. I was afraid if I honked it might kill you.

“Nah, I’ve been honked at before. I swerve all over the place. I’m usually delirious.”

I waved…but, you were panting and leaning forward. Looked kind of glassy eyed; I was afraid you might fall down. (She mimicked my jog – it was horrible.)

“Becky told me I look good when I jog.”

Becky lied. You look like a sick jogger that might pass out. You be careful, honey.

“Okay, don’t worry. I think I might look worse than I feel.”

Well don’t die out there, we’d miss you at Bunko.

“I’ll be at Bunko. But, thanks for setting me straight. Now I know it’s not in my imagination. I have a bad gait.”

As we stand in line at the buffet I explain to Lou, “Well, I figure even if I’m slow and terrible and look like a sick turtle, I’m moving faster than the person sitting home on the couch.”

When I’m 87, I hope I can be as honest as Lou. And, Becky… I’ll never trust her again!

ASSOCIATION BUSINESS: The neighborhood may need speed bumps; yellow painted on the curbs to prevent parking that blocks driver views; neighborhood watch to prevent fishing in the ponds; and police presence at the unnecessary flashing stop signs. The president will look into issuing a warrant for the arrest of the kids who ride the golf cart through the neighborhood without helmets..

Thank goodness none of the Bunko Ladies voted for these restrictions. Lou says we live in a neighborhood full of idiots. They don’t know about our secret clubs.

This Baby Boomers Real Life

Bunko Ladies

Carol and I were the last to arrive at Bunko. I quickly go to the kitchen to get coffee. The hostess, Helen, catches me.

“Debi, I saw you walking the other day,” she says looking concerned. “I was going to invite you in for coffee, but you looked so pitiful. I was afraid you’d be embarrassed that I saw you.”

“Oh, I don’t get embarrassed.”

“Well, you were in bad shape,” she said, while imitating my walk and anguished face.

We begin to arrange the tables. Card table in kitchen, then out of kitchen, then folded against the wall. We decide to use only two tables to be close to each other.

Carol rings the bell. Bunko begins. Whoops and hollers – “BUNKO” “21” “1, 2, 3”

Between games, Candi calls a Bunko Meeting.

“We have things to discuss,” Candi shouts as Carol tap-tap-taps the bell calling the meeting to order.

“We will vote on these things with a show of hands.”

Monthly Prizes for Bunko Winners: Helen votes to discontinue. No one needs more junk. Carol agrees. No one cares about hands.

Hostess: Who has never hosted? Lou quickly says Debi. Unanimous hand approval, I host November.

Holiday dinner: Candi votes Vegas Bar & Grill and adds that the gift exchange will be a $10 limit. She ignores hands.

Cookie exchange: Becky votes 2 dozen per person. Hands are flying up.

Membership List: Secretary distributes phone numbers, addresses and emails.

Lou dismisses Helen and Carol’s Monthly Prizes for Bunko decision. “Winners need something or why would we want to win?” Mildred agrees. Everyone bring $1 to Bunko and winners get money.

Lou dismisses Candi’s holiday dinner suggestion: Vegas Bar & Grill is too expensive – Lou changes it to Stony Creek.

Lou dismisses Candi’s Gift Exchange decision: Waste of money, no one needs junk.

I dismiss Becky’s Cookie exchange idea: Too much trouble. Everyone STARES. I silently question my clout.

Marsha challenges Lou’s Gift Exchange dismissal: Bring a small gift and we can pass and steal from each other. It’s a fun game. Hands approve.

Lou disapproves Marsha’s Gift Exchange idea: Too loud to play a game in a restaurant.

Lou confirms my nixing the Cookie Exchange – “Debi’s right, we’re too busy to be baking cookies.”

We take a short break after the meeting to get dessert. Lou sneaks over and whispers, “I’ll bring you fudge next month. It’s only for you. Don’t tell. I’m too busy to make it for everyone. When did we get a Bunko secretary?”

When we finish Bunko the winners rush to claim their “junk” prizes. We hug good night and no one can remember where we’re going for the holiday dinner, whether we’re having a gift or cookie exchange, who’s hosting in November and whether or not she’ll need to have gifts for the winners. I tell them not to worry. The secretary will tell us in the minutes.

“We have a secretary?” Lou asks.

FOLLOW UP: Two weeks later Helen calls to see who is having Bunko in November. I tell her it’s at my house. She agrees to let everyone know. She calls back a few days later to see if we are going to play for money or if I’m buying “winner” gifts. I tell her I’ll do either one. She’s going to call everyone, take a vote, and get back with me. Until we find a Bunko secretary, I think we should hold off on the meetings.

This Baby Boomers Real Life

Perfect Crime

I do not have a criminal record, which is good. I may need No Prior History as my trial defense someday.

I shoplift. I noticed this was becoming a habit about 10 years ago. I was on vacation with my daughters and 11-year-old granddaughter. Dee. We were having a fun day at the outlet mall. After lots of shopping, Jan suggested we go to Chico’s because that’s where Meme can look at her kind of things (old lady clothes). We’re having a fine time, laughing with sales clerks, and trying on jewelry and clothes. I buy a sweater and we head out. About 20 minutes later, Dee looks horrified.

“Meme, why did you steal that necklace?”

“What necklace?”

“The one you’re wearing!”

“Oh, my gosh,” I say as I feel the necklace around my neck. “I didn’t steal it, I accidentally took it. Big difference. I’ll take it back when we pass Chico’s on the way out.”

“No! Do it now before we get arrested.”

I try to reason with Dee, “Shoplifters are arrested as soon as they leave the store. It’s okay. I’ll return it later”.

“No, we need to do it now!”

I see the fear and panic on Dee’s face, and tell the girls we are going back to Chico’s because I took a necklace.

When I return the necklace to the salesclerk she says, “We would have prosecuted you.”

“Hold on. I wore this necklace right in front of you while buying a sweater. You could have asked about the necklace. This is a little bit your fault, too.”

“That defense wouldn’t work. Almost all of our shoplifters are women your age.”

“That’s because only women my age shop here,” I snap back.

I did not appreciate that lady’s tone one bit, and wished I had kept the necklace, which could have happened had Dee not noticed it.

A few weeks later, I borrow a sweater while shopping at Walmart because they do not properly heat their stores. As I’m loading groceries into the car I notice an XL strip on the front of the sweater. Oh no, Again?

I hurriedly return the sweater to a baffled Walmart pharmacy tech, then head to the gas station, fill my tank, and wonder why I keep shoplifting. I drive away with the pump still attached. (I’m not worried about the pump. I’ve done it before; there are precautions in place, and I’ve got bigger problems. )

My shoplifting might become a habit. I think this is how it happens; be old, misplace your credit card, engaged the salesperson in rambling conversation. Never try to hide the merchandise. and always appear happy and confident.

Now, when I shop I concentrate. No frivolous chatting. I don’t want to go to jail!

Jan pretending she is Jill… the pose is perfect. Jill even thought it was Jill.

A story will follow after I write it. I’m so happy that these two are good friends and have so much fun together.

The Real Jill

What do you do when your daughter starts high school? If you’re Jill, you find a tutu dress at Salvation Army and jump out of the car and sprint down the street in front of all of her friends. That’s not embarrassing at all. – jan

Daughters and Their Babies

The Real Jill

My Life - How I think and how I live...

Follow up … Genetics, I’m Lucky

I used to wonder what it was about me that I knew I’d be okay. Happiness, even if elusive for the moment, was sure to return. It’s as if I could not bear to live a life of unhappiness. I’ve learned some of it is my genetics, but the other 40% is because I’ve just about mastered the habits of happy.

Martin Seligman, the father of positive psychology, theorizes that while 60 percent of happiness is determined by our genetics and environment, the remaining 40 percent is up to us. There is hope for those not genetically inclined.

The Habits Of Supremely Happy People

They surround themselves with other happy people. Dump the Debbie Downers and spend more time with uplifting people (my name is Debbie, but I’m not a downer!!).

They smile when they mean it. Fake smiling can worsen a mood.

They cultivate resilience. Happy people know how to bounce back from failure.

They try to be happy. Yep — it’s as simple as it sounds: just trying to be happy can boost your emotional well-being.

They are mindful of the good. Happy people give attention to their small victories, too.

They appreciate simple pleasures. They appreciate the easy-to-come-by pleasures.

They devote some of their time to giving. They fill some of that time doing good for others.

They let themselves lose track of time. (And sometimes they can’t help it.) Happy people seek the sensation of getting “caught up” or “carried away.”

They nix the small talk for deeper conversation. “I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings,” is one of the top five regrets of the dying — spend less time talking about the weather and more time delving into what it is that makes their heart swell.

They spend money on other people. Spending money on other people has a more direct impact on happiness than spending money on oneself.

They make a point to listen. “When you listen you open up your ability to take in more knowledge versus blocking the world with your words or your distracting thoughts.”

They uphold in-person connections. There’s a deep need to have a sense of belonging that comes with having personal interactions.

They look on the bright side. Optimism touts plenty of health benefits, including longevity among those with heart disease.

They value a good mixtape. People who simply listened to music have the same decreased anxiety symptoms as those who got 10 hour-long massages.

They unplug. Partaking in some kind of a digital detox gives your brain the opportunity to recharge and recover.

They get spiritual. The experience of sacred time provides a time apart from the “profane time” that we live most of our lives in.

They make exercise a priority. Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy.” Plus, working out makes us appreciate our bodies more.

They go outside. Want to feel alive? Just a 20-minute dose of fresh air promotes a sense of vitality.

They spend some time on the pillow. When you’re running low on zzs, you’re prone to experience lack of clarity, bad moods and poor judgment.

They LOL. Laughing boosts a healthy immune system, controlled appetite and improved cholesterol.

They walk the walk. Ever notice your joyful friends have a certain spring in the step? It’s all about the stride (long strides while swinging your arms and holding your head high).

Taken from : http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/09/16/happiness-habits-of-exuberant-human-beings_n_3909772.html

My Life - How I think and how I live...

Genetics… I’m Lucky

I sometimes look at strangers and wonder about their lives. Are they in a good place right now? Are they suffering? Hopeful? Waiting? Why is one person smiling, friendly and approachable, while another looks rushed, frustrated, or empty? Does their appearance reflect their life?

I don’t think so… I think appearance reflects mood, but not necessarily circumstances. I have known people who carry the heaviest of burdens and they smile and embrace strangers and give of themselves more than most. It’s not that they are never sad, but they have an incredible ability to rebound back to happy. Others who seem to escape hardship are often unhappy. They struggle with self-inflicted busyness, competitive natures, hectic schedules, turmoil, and a general sense of anxiety.

Do we have a choice in seeing the glass half-full or half-empty? Scientist have found the oxytocin receptor gene (OXTR) is a strong predictor of happiness and self-esteem. If you are missing certain nucleotides on that gene, you have lower levels of optimism and self-esteem. About one-half or our sense of well-being is inherited. We are born with a tendency toward a “happiness quotient”. Knowing this helps me realize there is a reason I rebound easier than most. It also explains why I’m fluttering around being happy, when instead I should be concentrating and getting something done. It’s all in the genes.

Work at the Archdiocese

Lunch with Co-Workers

Flor, Fr. KT and me

Everyone in the office is looking forward to Fr. Ken’s last day with us and Brother Moises’ first day as Director of Multicultural Ministries. We’re Catholic. We celebrate just about everything with wine, and we’ve found the perfect place. Tastings has outdoor seating and offers samples; taste the wine.

I’m driving my co-workers to the celebration. In the backseat is Sr. Jeanette, a divorced black nun from New Orleans. Mother of three with lots of grandchildren, and a flair for fashion. For sister everyday is Mardi Gras. Sharing the back seat is tiny petite Hispanic Gloria. I’m in the front with a white gal as boring as me. I gun it and go through a yellow-red light.

I can see Sister in my rear-view mirror. “Oh, Lord! Hail Mary, full of Grace…good Lord help get us to this place.” I hear a rosary being pulled out of her purse. She’s freestyle-frantic praying.

Gloria gets a phone call. She starts speaking Spanish, fast and loud. I look over at Joni. We shrug. It sounds like an exorcism is going on in the back seat. Minutes later, Gloria hangs up and sister gets distracted.

“Are those Trekkies? Look at those people. My son was a Trekkie. This will be great,” Sr. Jeanette says. “We can sit outside and get pictures. My son will love this.”

“Those are Gamers,” Gloria tells her.

Sister is not familiar with Gamers.

We get to the mall parking garage. There’s a long line to get in and no one is moving. I notice the entrance arm is broken.

“We’re stuck,” I tell my passengers.

Sister starts talking to Mary again… “This is Fr. Ken’s last day. He’s going to be waiting on us. Please move these cars. Hail Mary…beads shaking, horns honking, cars inching forward, backward, and forward. Finally one car breaks out and we’re free.

We go in another entrance. Sister pulls out a sheet of paper. She’s taking notes – up one ramp, no spaces, down one ramp, no spaces, beads rattling. “Go that way.” Everyone’s giving me directions. I find a space.

Sister gets out of the car and writes down “Green Bird” with a letter and number, we walk a few steps and the bird has a different number. She stops again. She’s designing a parking garage map as we walk out so we can get back to the car.

Sister explains, “I brought my 9-year-old granddaughter here when I had money, before I was a sister. We got lost and looked two hours for my car. My granddaughter finally laid down on the concrete and went to sleep. Then a man in a cart drove us from top to bottom looking for my car. You can’t mess around in these garages.”

She writes down Moon Garage, elevator. We’re on the street.

We get to Tastings about 20 minutes after Fr. Ken and other co-workers. I’m sure Mary is hoping Sister will put the beads away.

Our friends have the wine tasting cards waiting on us. Sister drinks the most wine, but when we leave she’s on it. She pulls out her map and we hit every bird on cue.

Gloria, me, Joni, Fr. KT, Br. Moises, Flor, Sr. Jeanette