#inktober52, #inktober, "Robot"

Bill Mumy used to buzz past my house very regularly in a very beat up VW bug.  He honked, he waved, I smiled and waved back.  My sister growled and slammed doors.  I thought Bill was romantic and determined.  Sis thought he was a long-haired, gangly, teenaged pest.  Oh well, teenagers do what teenagers do and apparently Bill and Sis weren't meant for a happily ever after together.  He got married in 1986 so I'm pretty sure he got over his unrequited love, or maybe it was just teenaged lust.  It's just one of those episodes of childhood that invariably makes me laugh.  I'm pretty sure Sis still gets irritated at the thought of it.

Years before this teenaged stalking, Sis sat on the floor with me in front of the TV and happily watched Bill as Will in "Lost in Space".  It was an admittedly lame show that was cheaply produced and inexplicably entertaining.  There was friendly robot who exclaimed, "Warning, warning, Will Robinson!" before they were attacked by aliens and everything got resolved in 20 minutes or so.  Wasn't even bad TV better when we were kids?

I think about today's robots taking away people's jobs and all the current uncertainties and think I could spend the day watching Lost in Space on youtube.  I'm not sure this is the best use of my life, but it would be a pleasant diversion since nobody has asked me to a Memorial Day picnic, not that I would go this year even if I were invited.  Whatever you're doing this year, please do it safely.

I've moved on from my ditch digging and started attacking my house.  I sat back in my easy chair and noticed the ceiling looked kind of dingy.  I spent a day washing it.  It's sparkly white again and I'm sore again.  I sat back in my easy chair and noticed piles of projects that never got finished (or started).  I moved my project materials to their proper homes.  On and on and I'm not finished thinking about other labor-intensive things I could do.  I think I'm just taking out my frustrations on my surroundings, but also getting some exercise.  Things look better so I feel better.

I'm never going to go full Marie Kondo or anything, but I have been asking myself why I have so much stuff.  I listened to a radio program this week which posed the questions, "Are you holding onto things because you're holding onto your past?  Are you ready to make space for new things to come into your life?"  Hmm...  I think I'm ready for something new.  Clearing space sounds like an excellent idea.  Maybe I'll paint the living room walls too.  On and on and on, there's no end to the stuff I could do.

Of course we haul our past around with us whether or not we keep reminders of it.  The only thing it took for me to remember Bill Mumy buzzing by my house was the word "Robot".  I don't need to keep every gift I received from every person I've cared about to remember them.  I used to, even gifts I wasn't all that crazy about in the first place.  It felt disloyal to throw them away.  I've gotten over that.  Mostly?

Anyway, I've got to get back to my projects.  Now that the ceiling looks great I've noticed the windows need washed.

Bill was adorable, wasn't he?  He kind of looked like Sis' son.
Maybe she should've returned his affections :)

#Inktober52, #Inktober, "Bubbles"

I was hiking around to endless historical monuments on a hot, sunny day with a friend when I said, "I need to stop for a pop" as we walked by a convenience store.  My friend burst into merry laughter.  My face rearranged itself into absolute befuddlement.  I didn't see anything funny in my declaration.  I was hot and thirsty.  My friend didn't have the faintest idea what I was talking about.  "A Pepsi, Coke, something like that", I clarified, shaking my head at the obvious.  "Oh!  A soda!"  In my mind, a soda is something from the 1950's when teenyboppers went to the soda shop for a malt, but okay.  I realize more of you out there say soda than pop, but you have to admit pop is a better word when you open the bottle.

Someone else recently reminisced with me about going to her grandparents and getting pop from the basement.  "Me too!"  Happy grandparent stories flowed back and forth and I vividly tasted Vernor's ginger ale even though I haven't tasted it in years.  It's amazing how these things stay with us, and how much little things matter down the road when it didn't seem to make that much difference at the time.  We just had practical grandparents who put soda pop in the basement because the basement was cool and brought it upstairs when the grandkids were there because they loved us.  It's these little moments that made us feel special and secure.

The other day I contemplated what to have for supper.  I seem to have gotten very vegetarian during the shutdown and I have to say I'm sick and tired of vegetables.  I flashed back to dinner at Grandma's and wished so strongly for one of her basic meals of ham, mashed potatoes, and green beans.  I wanted it so badly I could smell the ham and hear her putting a spoon down on her stainless steel kitchen counter.  I thought of Grandpa and his perennial assortment of Chex cereal and ever-present vanilla ice milk.  Tinkling dishes, cheerful laughter, and ice tea.  Vernor's pop, full of sugar and bubbles, in the middle of the day, for no real reason other than my grandparents knew I liked it.

I saw a post where a 10-year-old girl created a door screen out of a shower curtain and plastic bags so she could hug her grandma during the shutdown.  Yay for the kid!  But gee, it sucks to be separated from your grandma!  Maybe all this separation will prove to teach more of us to appreciate people while we have them?

Happy memories keep us warm inside when faced with too many vegetables, but it isn't all about looking back.  It's about thinking about your priorities and making decisions about what you want now and in the future.  Our thoughts create possibilities.

Thinking about drinking a bubbly pop on a hot summer day may not seem important at all.  Remembering merry laughter between friends is important.  It isn't about things, it's about people.  I'm really hoping that everyone appreciates their people even more when they can hug each other again.

This art is just a TV doodle around the time I was salivating over Grandma's ham :)

"Family 2"

Someone asked me recently about my happiest Christmas.  I got an image of my brain as a Rolodex of memory index cards spinning around until it landed on a happy day of childhood at my grandparents' house.  We didn't usually go to their house for Christmas, but that year we did.  There was a lit up tree in the dining room decorated with fragile glass ornaments.  Some of the lights bubbled.  My cousins ran around and yelled as they played.  Aunts chatted in the kitchen.  Uncles chatted in the living room.  Dinner was perfect.  Everyone was happy.  I was happy.

One of the pleasures of going to Grandma's was after the meal was done.  Women whisked the dishes into the kitchen and men took the children to the nearby park where we burned off our excess energy and cookies.  In winter, the pond was frozen over and there was a hot fire going nearby.  People warmed their hands and laughed.  Sometimes we walked to the other end of the park with the big sledding hill where there was another big fire burning.  Up the hill, down the hill... repeat until bruised and exhausted.  Trudge our way back to Grandma's where the dishes were miraculously clean and put away.

We played cards and drank hot tea.  We had sandwiches made from leftovers and ate more cookies.  Grandma filled us all in on the extended family whom I probably never met, or maybe died 3 or 4 generations ago.  The patter of the conversation didn't matter much to me.  I just liked listening to the pleasantness of it with the tinkling of a metal spoon clinking as someone stirred sugar in their tea.  The creaking of Grandpa's oak rocking chair, his soft huh, huh chuckle when something struck him funny.  "Santa Got Run Over by a Reindeer" playing somewhere upstairs.

My wish is for every child to have a perfect holiday, whatever their religion.  I hope they are safe and loved and they feel a sense of belonging amongst the people around them.  I hope older people feel treasured by the younger generations.

Of course, I also know my happy wishes won't come true for everyone.  For some, the mashed potatoes might fly across the room or somebody pounds the table.  Some people are lonely because they don't have anyone around anymore.  For them, I wish a perfect memory of happiness that keeps them warm when things aren't like a perfect day at Grandma's.

It wasn't that my grandparents did anything so remarkable back then.  I got a small gift I don't remember anymore.  The food was great, but it wasn't gourmet fare.  It was probably a turkey, mashed potatoes, and green beans or something -- oh yeah, let's not forget the ever-present applesauce!  Pretty little dishes with pickles and olives and nuts and whatever else scattered around the table.  Talking about unknown relatives isn't exactly thrilling.  Playing cards is pretty cheap entertainment.  It's just that when all these things were combined it was magic.

Or, maybe the point of it was my own perspective?  Happiness isn't something someone can force on you.  We choose it.  Wherever you are, whoever you're with, whatever life gives you, I hope you find joy and happiness this holiday season!