I landed on Tuesday

I spent President's Day Weekend out of town with a friend. I got to the airport by noon, all flights I tried to get on were delayed, changed, re-changed and suffered from mechanical problems. Ultimately, the flight was so delayed that snacks were handed out while we were still sitting at the gate. Once in the air, the booze was free. While other passengers walked up and down the aisles, stood, sat, and complained, I read a book, worked on a crossword, and enjoyed quiet time.

Although I left on Monday, I landed on Tuesday.

That same Tuesday, my mom left her home to drive to MI and join my dad for some much needed time away. She had been sitting vigil at my grandma's bedside 8 - 12 hours a day since both of my grandma's arms were broken in October. Mom had been wiping her eyes, applying her lipstick, and spoon feeding her for months. In December, after a middle of the night ambulance ride to the ER, we called hospice. At 102, if my grandma had a heart problem, cancer or psychosis, we were not going to treat it.

That same day, about 11:00 am, I received an email from the principal of my children's high school. A student had been struck by a car, midday, while crossing the street to enter the school building. The student was doing everything right, whereas the driver was not.

So now, just over a week later, there is a funeral for the student today and I am giving my first eulogy on Sunday. Our hearts are broken.

Mixology

Annually, I work to perfect a "new" (or new to me) beverage. It becomes the beverage of the year.

I start in late spring and work on proportions, ingredients and taste throughout the summer. By fall, it is damn near perfect. Most involve vodka, as gin and I had a bad evening in the late 80's and have not been close bed-fellows since. All involve some kind of muddled herb and/or produce, much to my sister's dismay. She hates "floaties."

I have made Cilantro Vodka Gimlets, Mojitos with Cucumber & Ginger, Jalepeno Gin & Tonic, Irish Mules with fresh Mint, and this summer I perfected a Jalepeno Tequila with Cucumber, OJ, lime, and chili/salt rim.

Projecting ahead to the summer of 2019, I'm considering a grapefruit something or other, or perhaps a lemoncello, sparkling wine, thyme surprise. Either way, by early fall, you'll want to stop by for a sample.

Yesterday I dabbled in a different form of chemistry. I took a class on the art of henna. We mixed, strained, folded, filled and practiced drawing with henna cones. Needless to say, I need continued work, but I did learn a lot and will practice on anyone who is a willing participant.

my work

not my work

If You're Offered the Senior Discount, Take It

I don't give much thought to my age.

At work, I primarily spend my time with junior high students. They spend 2-3 years in middle school and then they move on. They get taller, their voices may change, along with their desire to date, drive and be done with school. I have worked with this population for almost 30 years. Although they grow up and move on, there is always a new crop of students, again between the ages of 11-14. They never grow old, nor, would it seem, do I. I believe I am the same 22-29 year old who started so many years ago. I'm single, carefree and independent.

Years ago I made a reference to the singer Sting to a junior high student. Sting, mind you, not the band he's most famous for playing in, The Police, but Sting himself. The young man asked, "Who is Sting?"

I was stunned, crushed even. Yet, in a moment of pure self-preservation, I thought "idiot." Obviously, there was something wrong with the kid.

When I became a special education administrator, I met a new employee. When he walked in, fresh out of college, my first thought was, "Did his mom have to drive him to the interview?"

He looked so young. This summer I stopped by his home in Oregon, the one he shares with his wife, their kids, dogs, chickens, and in-laws. He is a bonified adult who drove me back to my Air bnb after an evening of wine and conversation.

Now I work in schools with parents, grandparents and Millenials as my colleagues. One of my colleagues said, "You were my social worker when I was in junior high." She is in her 30s with junior high and high school aged children herself.

Another woman is my age and a grandparent, three times over. There is no denying it, I'm aging. I can no longer get up and down off the floor as easily as I once could. After physically intervening with a student, I sleep on a heating pad for the next day or two.

No one knows who Norm Peterson, Laverne DeFazio or Major Charles Emerson Winchester III were. I wonder how long Anthony Bourdain will remain in collective consciousness and how many generations will pass before his envelop-pushing life fades. It breaks my heart to even think about.

This summer I looked and felt young. I was fit, relaxed, tanned and free spirited. I had 20 grey hairs and enjoyed my first summer in 18 years driving a convertible. In the past four months it has gone to hell. I've gotten way more grey and I've put on weight.

My younger sister has always had grey hair. She has spent most of her adult life dyeing it some unnatural color between magenta, red and orange. This past year she decided to let it go. It is a beautiful salt and pepper grey, although honestly, it's more salt. She has got a young face and a feisty spirit. To my knowledge, she has never been offered a senior discount. To date, I've been offered it twice since November!

If offered the senior discount, my advice to you is to take it.

selfie by Jill Wallace

artwork by Julian Schnabel