Life

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I may be dating myself, but I remember back to the day when stores were closed on Sundays. You couldn’t shop, go to the grocery store or grab a bottle of wine. I barely recall those times because very slowly convenient stores began to appear with better hours for people who forgot that loaf of bread or needed milk late at night. Soon retail stores began to announce Sunday hours and more followed suit.

Sound familiar? Black Thursday, oh I mean Friday, has evolved into a two day event. I never liked the name. It sounds ominous to me. I know it stands for the day stores are finally out of the “red” and making a profit but I just don’t like it. It’s not a day I look forward to.

I don’t fault the people who love the day. Everyone has different likes and dislikes. That’s what makes the world go round. I understand the thrill of getting a good bargain. I like shopping and a good sale, too. Just not the day after Thanksgiving.

For some it’s a jump start for holiday shopping. For others, it’s a bonding experience. Families get together and plan their strategies before heading out into the early morning. Last year, some started shopping Thanksgiving night.

This year a few stores announced they’ll be open Thanksgiving Day, some beginning at 6 a.m. I’m sure more will get on board next year. Soon they’ll be offering Thanksgiving dinners in Styrofoam containers so you can eat while you shop!

The debate has begun whether to boycott or not. Everyone has the right to choose. If shopping on Thanksgiving makes you happy, then go ahead. If staying as far away from the stores as you can is your choice, then do that. People protest that retail workers won’t have time with their families. True, but let’s not forget those who work in jobs where there’s never a holiday or a day off. Nurses, firefighters, police officers, to name a few, go quietly off to their jobs on Thanksgiving and other holidays.

Not too many years ago, I remember commercials focusing more and more on Black Friday. One showed a cooked turkey jumping off the Thanksgiving table running out the door to shop. My son found a store’s website that had wake-up calls. A famous celebrity, Darth Vader or crying baby would call to wake you in time to not miss the bargains. He sat and played them for after dinner entertainment. Who would have thought that one day we’d look back at that and remember that as the good old days?

Since there’s probably not much we can do to change the current situation, maybe we can at least show our appreciation to all those who do work on that day. Give the gift of patience and show your thanks. That’s what the day’s all about. And don’t forget to create some memories. These are the good old days. Happy Thanksgiving.

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I was never good at creating a costume. Those plastic masks and tie-on outfits were the go-to costume of the day. Boxes and boxes of them lined the store shelves, waiting to be chosen. I preferred those small masks that went across your eyes that were red or black or any solid color. The easiest costumes of the day were ghost and hobo. I don’t think I went as either. I can hardly remember what I dressed as and there are no pictures to remind me.

My son was very creative when it came to Halloween and still is to this day. He always knew what he wanted to be. We did a few store bought costumes like Darth Vader but he liked to make his own. Frankenstein and Dracula came to life with his own creative touches. Even as a small boy, he planned out his wardrobe. Doctor for Preschool, Fireman for trick-or-treating. I have trouble thinking of one idea and he had two!

There was one big difference between the Halloween I celebrated and his. Parents now had to be on high alert, taking some of the fun out of this once-a- year thrill. Safety first is definitely a must but I never checked my candy or feared someone would sabotage it when I was young. When the first stories of razor blades or drugs appeared, it was a sad day for Halloween.

But now back to the fun stuff. I have two stories from back in the day I’d like to share. One’s a scary memory and the other is funny.

One family, down the street, loved Halloween–the scary kind. I’m a PG rated Halloween girl, no thrills and chills so this is my scary memory. On that night, we could always hear screams coming from that house…some from the trick or treaters and the rest coming from inside the house. My sister and I would meet up with other neighborhood kids and stand on the sidewalk gazing at the house. Large trees dotted the front yard, making it harder to see what was going on. Kids would come running down the drive, laughing and yelling. I could never tell if they enjoyed what happened to them or not.

I never went to that house to trick-or-treat. I did find out what made everyone scream. As kids walked to the door, a large ghost dropped from a tree, landing right in front of them. Startling, I’m sure. I never wanted to find out how startling it was and never approached the house. It was scary enough standing in the dark listening to all the strange noises.

My favorite Halloween memory is trick-or-treating at an elderly woman’s home. We hardly saw her the rest of the year. She lived alone and kept to herself. On Halloween her light was always on. She’d come to the door with a giant bowl of candy corn with a large spoon sticking out from the center. She’d grab the handle, scooping up a heaping mound of the mouth-watering morsels and my eyes would light up. (Remember, this was back in the day when it was okay to hand out apples and loose candy.)

The old woman would then begin to shake the spoon. She’d shake and shake until there were two of those kernels left. Then she’d dump it into your bag. We never missed her house in all those years of trick or-treating. I guess we hoped one day we’d get that giant scoop thrown in our bags.

She reminded me of one of those fairytales villains that looked normal at first but as they did their wicked deed they’d turn into an old, weathered form of themselves, like a witch. That’s as scary as my Halloween got. .

I hope you have a few good memories tucked away that you can pull out this season and laugh and reminisce about. I think the real idea of Halloween is to be able to step away from your everyday life for just one brief night and face your fears, laugh till your sides hurt and eat some candy. I recommend starting with two candy corns. They’re the best.

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Pavarotti was talking about the advice he got from his father when he couldn’t decide between teaching and singing. His father told him, “Son, if you try to sit on two chairs, you will fall between them. For life, you must choose one chair.”

I love that message. His father wasn’t rich or famous but gave great advice. Too often in this fast paced world, people want things handed to them or become an overnight sensation. The easier it is, the better.

When I first started writing my book, I kept telling myself I was crazy. I researched how many words a book should have and found 60,000 to 100,000 as the common answer. I decided if I made the commitment, I’d stick it out till the end, regardless the outcome.

I wrote, researched, and read each chapter over and over again. I had no idea how many words it was because I decided that wasn’t important. The essential thing was to get the words on the paper. Worry about the small stuff later.

I finally gave in and used the tool bar to click “word count”. Imagine my surprise when I had 55,000 words and wasn’t nearly done. I chose one chair and stuck to it. More stepping stones would come along after the book was written but I had met the challenge. As I continued on, each task needed to be handled with that same mindset. One chair at a time.

The message is clear. Stick to one thing and do it well. If you don’t love what you’re doing, try to see it through to the end. You never know what might happen and you could end up liking it. Can you change your mind and follow a different path? Absolutely. Just do it one chair at a time.

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chefs-hat-23436_640My father always cooked breakfast on weekends. He’d also fire up the grill for steaks or barbecue chicken and stand over them like he was the master chef.

My husband does the same thing. He makes breakfast on weekends–makes a mean pancake–and mans the grill for just about anything we cook. I didn’t think much of it at first. I grew up with a man who did the cooking and met another one who didn’t mind to cook. I realize now I’m a little spoiled.

Naturally, I had to have my main character’s father comfortable in the kitchen. He’s ready to lend a hand no matter what time of day it is. He’s into natural ingredients and will jump in the car to get a fresh piece of fish to cook for the family.

More and more men are into cooking these days. When I was younger, it was woman’s work. Julia Child was on the scene and women wanted to emulate her. Now there are TV shows galore showing men whipping up all kinds of dishes. I like that. Nothing wrong with men knowing how to cook.

My son has jumped on the cooking bandwagon. He’ll help out in the kitchen when the mood strikes him. When he was away at school, he bought himself a good knife and a cutting board. He swears by them. They usually come out front and center when he’s involved in a recipe.

The first time we cooked together was right after he came back from school. The recipe called for chipotle peppers in adobo sauce. Since my husband and I aren’t fans, I would’ve made the meal minus the peppers. My son wouldn’t hear of it and insisted I buy them. He would cut them up.

After opening the can and dumping them on a plate, we couldn’t stop laughing. They reminded us of something that was not food and had more to do with a bodily function. He took pictures and posted them on Facebook having people guess what they were. No one could. The meal was finally prepared after all the antics. My husband came home from work and we shared our story.

My son dubbed that adventure, The Matt and Mom Cooking Show. We’ve had more that followed, some just as funny. My only regret is I wish we really had them on film. We have many videos of people blowing out candles for birthdays or ripping open packages on holidays. Nice to have but sometimes you feel you’re on repeat as you watch.

I wish I had pictures of my dad at the stove, whipping up the scrambled eggs. I’d put it with the one of my husband pulling the Thanksgiving turkey out of the oven. Then next to them, I’d place the picture of the chipotle peppers. It would be a great trip down memory lane.

Hopefully, one day my son will add to my fantasy picture album. His son would have to go a long way though to top his dad’s photo but if he’ll be anything like my son, he’ll make sure he does.

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Grand Canyon HikeMy books recently tagged along on a hiking adventure. They were excited to go and leave home the first time without me. It’s all they could talk about for weeks on end.

Actually they didn’t really have to do the walking; they hitchhiked along in my niece’s backpack. She was kind enough to take them when she and her father hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. As a favor to me, she took pictures of them along the trail. I’d love to hike it myself, but I don’t think I’d ever make it back out alive or with two good knees. It’s all uphill, I’m told.

On the trip she’d have to carry a backpack filled with 25 to 35 pounds of supplies which turned out to be more like 50. Two more pounds would be added because of the books, but she took them willingly.

Being a talented, creative girl I had no doubt she had big plans for the books. I decided they would provide entertainment for the travelers since there’d be others in the group. I was sure my niece would use any and all ideas…as long as one of them wasn’t to toss the books into the canyon. It turned out the couple that joined them on the trip were seasoned hikers and mountain bikers. They were very fit and forged ahead without the group at times. I’m sure they did want to throw the books into the canyon after all.

She chose a one-day down and two-day back up package. They camped overnight at the bottom of the canyon and then again halfway up Bright Angel Trail at Indian Gardens. It was a trip of a lifetime and one I’m she she’ll never forget.

I am going to end this post with a summary of her trip in her own words:

Holy crap, y’all. We made it. We freaking made it. This was hands down the hardest thing I have EVER done, ever. I literally sobbed when I got to the top.

If this is something you want to do, go for it- but do not underestimate the canyon or overestimate your ability. 

 

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