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Retreadment

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I don’t like the word retirement in any of it’s many uses.  Retirement community, retirement savings, retirement income – to me they all sound a little too final, like something that happens just before one dies. I do like the thought of a retread, you know, the thing they do to tires to give them a new exterior and more useful life.

I’m kind of in retreadment now.  Since November I’ve traveled a lot (no financial income), left my nearly full-time employment (no financial income) and have been sampling life at home (no financial income). I’m spending a lot more time thinking about, you guessed it, no financial income.

My thought going into the grocery store is now “how can I get in there and out again with only the things on my list?”.

My thought looking at the phone bill is “maybe I don’t need to pay to read email on my phone all the time”.

Thinking of the next meal “there’s probably something in the freezer that I need to use”.

At the gas pump I’m thinking “thank you Lord that I have a tank that only costs $35 to fill and gives me 500 miles of travel.”

At the first of every month I’m thinking “is there enough in the account to make that car payment?”

I’m not exactly to the point of worrying, because I do believe in God’s promise to supply my needs. However I am used to having a lot more than what I need. I’m realizing that the retreadment life is going to be a combination of creative saving, creative spending and creative cutting back/cutting out. And I need to think about what new work (the retread part) will fit my energy, ability and calling.

Till Death Do Us Part

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Forty-one years ago we said those words, the husband and I.  I think we had a better than average understanding of what that meant, and here we are, still not parted by death or anything else. I cannot speak for both of us, but for myself, I have learned many useful things about marriage. And about men. And about the husband in particular.  

The most interesting thing is that we are still changing, and there is more new stuff to learn as that happens.  For our anniversary we are going to start a program called Prepare/Enrich (prepare-enrich.com) and our first task is to answer online questions about ourselves.  After all these years of living with the husband there are still things about his early years that I probably don’t know. And there are things about my early years that have formed my ways and views that I might not be aware of either. I am warned that there are about two hours worth of this questioning to wade through before we start the next part of the program. 

The next part is called “dating”, something we haven’t done regularly since being married.  Actually, it’s going to be double dating with a mentoring couple, and it’s supposed to be fun.  This whole concept is intriguing to me because it sounds very personal and potentially helpful.  It’s not a roomful of people at a marriage conference where no one knows what you’re thinking, it’s just the husband and I with two other people kind of like us but capable of objectivity and insight into our natures (because they get to see our two hours worth of answers from the online portion). We’ve never worked on our relationship intentionally like this before (yeah, it’s about time…) but like I said, forty-one years and we still haven’t killed each other.  Isn’t that what it means when you say until death do us part? 

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God Bless South Korea

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We are at  Incheon International Airport in Seoul after a safe flight from Phnom Penh.  The  Koreans are so … I’m not sure how to say what they are.  When they do something, they are so determined to do it really well. I’ve always been impressed with Korean Airlines. For example, I think most of us getting on the flight leaving Phnom Penh came from the same time zone where it was midnight.  They could have let us sleep the whole six hours in the air, but no. They wanted to give us a meal so breakfast came, at 3 am.  And I ate because I’m  in obedient mode (having just been on a mission trip).  And somewhere in the six hours they passed snacks and drinks twice. 

Ok, and as I mentioned we are now having a short layover at Incheon in the Prestige  KAL lounge, thanks to the Hunsader’s many miles on this airline.
I am grateful for warm water to wash my face for the first time in ten days. And that’s not all that’s warm.
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A tired person could easily fall asleep on the heated toilet seat with separate flushes for adults, seniors and  – I forget all that the controls had options for, but it was so extensive that they had to put a separate label on so people could actually flush the thing. Awesome.

And now I’m off to the food bar for a cup of coffee before we head out for the long flight.  Still thinking about all the people who came to the airport to see us off, the 45 minutes of hugging and gift giving, the hands pressed against the windows and the heart hand signals pointed in our direction.  What precious people they are. I’m just sayin’, it’s impossible not to love them.

Half Way Around the World

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I would say that I can hardly believe that I am here in Cambodia, were it not for the fact that the 20 hours in an airplane seat were all too real.  Every year the padding seems a little thinner (on the chair or on me – not sure which). 

But as time goes by I am a bit more appreciative of the work it takes to get an airbus full of people half way around the world safely and in relative comfort.  I need to qualify “full of people” because we noticed that although economy coach was full, there was no one in first class.  Those beautiful chair/beds were empty and what a waste it was. 

On Korean Air there is always a flight attendant within sight and paying attention.  They communicate clearly and are efficient in serving everythìng from beverages to hot towels.  They fed us, turned out the lights so we could sleep, woke us up and fed us again.  I’m not sure, but I think part of their schedule was an attempt to reset our internal clocks to the time of our destination. And it works… kind of. 

So we are now at the end of our first day in Phnom Penh, the sights of which are getting to be familiar to me. I’m wondering what I will notice this time that I have not noticed before.  I find that I am looking less at the garbage, the crazy wiring overhead, the ornate buildings and looking more at the faces of the people I pass on the street. And I wonder where this will lead. 

Santa’s White Christmas

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Lately I’ve been thinking about too many things that make me cry.
Syria,
my immobile car, my sick quadriplegic friend,
my missed deadlines, my unkept promises, the world, my indecision,
other people’s problems, a touch of loneliness,
the economy, occasional holiday self-pity,
things I’m longing for,
things I’m waiting for,
the grocery store checker who was sharp with me,
the things I can’t afford,
Syria again, Cambodia, China,
and more…

I hate to think ‘cause I just know I’m going to cry and my head is getting tired of crying.

Normally when I feel like this I put my hands in warm, soapy water and feel better immediately (washing dishes – try it, it works). Today there were no dirty dishes so I decided to cook something for supper instead. This was not the best idea for someone who has been crying a lot.

First, there is the problem of finding something to cook. What I needed to cook was the large bag of collard greens that had been keeping cool for, oh, maybe a week. I’m a Yankee girl and I know almost nothing about collards. I bought them because I know they’re nutritious and I should eat them. So I put them in the pan and turned up the heat, then started looking for a recipe. That is not the right order.

After the collards burned, I found just the right recipe. Collard soufflé. I had all the ingredients, in a manner of speaking. What that means is that I don’t have several of the ingredients but I have something I think will pass as a substitute. Recipes are for people who live in a grocery store and have a lot of weird things on hand. I only have whipping cream when there’s pumpkin pie to go with it. I never have Jarlsberg cheese. Fresh bread crumbs, is there such a thing? I had eggs, and collards so I went with it.

The mixture looked very soufflé-ish, which was encouraging, so I poured it in the soufflé pan. Well, I mean I poured it in the spring form pan which I thought was probably the size of a soufflé pan. Those spring form pans really aren’t liquid tight so of course the egg and milk started running out the bottom all over the stove top. Fortunately, I had a pan of boiling water ready in the oven to set it in. Evidently that is the way soufflés are cooked. We’ll find out. I’m afraid.

But I’m not going to cry. While rummaging in the freezer for something to cook I found an opened bag of Santa’s White Christmas coffee from 2009. I think this is the year to finish it off and I’m going to make some right now. I’m not going to cry. I’m just sayin’…

Cleaners and Neaters

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For me, one of the nicest things about travel is that eventually I get to come home. Home, after two weeks away, is almost like someplace I’ve never been. It is a familiar, but still strange sort of place.

I get to use a full size tube of tooth paste.

My friends and family say they missed me.

There is an abundance of meaningful work to do.

I don’t have to wear dirty clothes unless I want to.

And oddly enough, instead of responding to unusual circumstances that present themselves only on rare occasions, I have to think about and be who I need to be for the long haul, the majority of day to day living. More about that later.

As I reacquaint myself with the house where I live with the husband, I am suddenly able to figure something out that I have wondered about for years.  We are different, the husband and I, and that’s good and serves a purpose. Here is my newest definition of a particular difference.

Some people are neat and tidy but not necessarily cleaners.

Other people makes lots of messes when they work but they are cleaners when it’s done.

Neaters and cleaners, that’s it.  I can think of so many examples of how this works out – like our paperwork and files.  Everything is stacked or filed (kept) meticulously, but usually it is only one of us who cleans and throws out the outdated and unnecessary.  Bathroom stuff is on its shelf or drawer, but only one of us wipes out the drawer and cleans the shelf. The dishwasher is loaded and run, but only one of us clears and cleans the counters and puts stuff away.  

Now unless you begin to think that the cleaner is in some way superior to the neater, let me say that it’s not true.  I am the cleaner (in case you haven’t figured it out) and I am capable of what I call “creative mess” at any moment.  I am following a trail and can’t be bothered with neatness along the way. Besides, I know I’m going to have to clean it up eventually, so I get to choose when. There is evidence of my creative side all over the house but the husband doesn’t often mind (or notice) as long as his stuff is in the pile where he put it (neatly). We were meant to coexist.

Those of us who love our homes will probably admit that the cleaning and organizing that we do is part of the “love”.  The satisfaction of making a difference, even if it’s only to clean a counter or rearrange a corner of the living room, is like getting to catch up with an old friend.  Yep, that’s what I’m doing today and it’s good to be home… I’m just sayin’.

Airport perks

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I am sitting in the Lindbergh terminal in Minneapolis, Minnesota, land of 10,000 lakes (all of them frozen over at present). In some ways airports are similar to each other but there is usually something unique about each one. 

I have never noticed this about MSP before so maybe it is only the case at this newest gate, but they have iPads everywhere.  There aren’t the usual rows of plastic chairs with tables here and there. It’s like a computer bar everywhere – low booths, high bar chairs with counters and all with iPads on stands ready for use. Some are free but I also see places to swipe credit cards.  There is a restaurant and bar across the isle and all the ordering is done on iPads. The waiter is only there to ask if people know how to use the gadget. Some travelers are using their own computers, like me, but many are taking advantage of the tablets and watching movies or checking their stocks (probably, I don’t know…)

I’m just saying – the world is changing, isn’t it?

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Hair

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Hair adorns the top of our heads, most of us. And even if it doesn’t, it probably has played a pretty dominant role in our lives as one of those things we spend a lot of time on, but still take for granted.  We get it cut, curled, pulled, washed, and we put products on it.  We care about how our hats look on it, and have preferences as to whether it should hang in our eyes or not.  We have stories we tell about Rapunzel (“let down your hair!”), Samson and Delilah, and Absalom who had such ridiculously out of control hair that it got caught in a tree he rode under and literally was the death of him. We have people who support themselves entirely taking care of our hair for us.  

We make statements with our hair as, for instance, when our dreads hang out the back under our football helmets, or when our hair turns pink, purple, green or blue. We all refer to common sayings and know what we mean by “bad hair day” or “hair raising experience”, “get out of my hair”, “a hairy situation” or “turn it down just a hair”.

Our hair keeps us warm.

We cry when we get sick and our hair falls out.

Personally, hair has figured largely in my past.  In addition to not smiling in most of my grade school pictures, I can look at them and tell whether I was in my pin curl stage, my sleeping in rollers stage or my dry the hair over the furnace duct stage. I have longish, white/gray hair now and I can find a barrette, or an elastic hair band in nearly any purse or pocket of mine. I confess, almost any time I look in a mirror, it has something to do with my hair.

I lived with two daughters who have always had nice hair, although one of them was scarred emotionally by a perm I once gave her.  Okay, so maybe I gave a couple bad haircuts to the other one too.  And my husband has had the same barber for the last forty years – me.

I’m thinking about hair this week more than usual because we have had a three generational hair week up here in Wisconsin.  Not mentioning any names, but some of us just don’t have time during our normal lives to take care of hair. A vacation turns out to be a good time for some fixes. 

On one of the first days here, sitting around with my daughter and mother, I offered to take them both out for the procedure – if we could find someone trustworthy to handle our locks.  Mom told me about a relative in town at Salon Soleil who had done a good job for someone so I looked the person up.  I felt confident she was skilled when I found out she had no openings. My daughter and I went on her waiting list in case there was a cancellation, and thanks to the blizzard this week there were two of them.  (Do you wonder how some committed professionals make it 25 miles to their job in a snowstorm and count it as “just another day” at work? I do.) We caught up on family news in addition to having a pleasant time getting a head massage and being made lovelier.   

My mom had a regular stylist and today we spent a couple hours in her home salon getting her permed and styled. She had chosen a good name for her business, A New Creation.  I like the way all three of us look with our recent changes. It kind of does something for your confidence when you look taken care of and current. I think it was a good move and money well spent. And I’m just sayin’ it was a fun thing to do with my mom and my daughter. 

Serious Snow

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20131205_154355I hate to go on and on about weather events but this time spent in Wisconsin has been such a wonderful reminder of winter that it is worthy of remarks, lots of them.

First, I have to say how noticeable it is that it’s dark at 4:30 pm. And it’s still quite dark at 7:30 in the morning – the automatic yard lights are still on.

It snowed for two days. Travel advisories were issued. We decided not to have my daughter drive the three and a half hours to the airport on slippery, wet roads. We had to make other flight arrangements. There is a great deal of anxiety in trying to figure out what the weather is going to be like and how it will affect the plans you’ve made. It is much easier just to give up and enjoy being snowed in.

At one point during the second day it began to rain.  Ice formed on the roads and sidewalks that had been cleared. Tree branches that had been heavy with snow got even heavier with ice. Toward the end of the snowfall the temperature began to drop and the wind began to blow. Snow drifted over the icy surfaces, and more of it fell.  The snowplows were out as well as the salt trucks. After dinner, my brother plowed the roads and driveways in our subdivision. The children went out to shovel the walks. The snowmobile was brought out of storage and they all took turns packing trails for skiing on the neighborhood green-space (white-space?). It was dark and cold, but strangely exciting as well.20131204_22495320131204_225002

There was the strangest light in the sky – not from the moon, but from every light in town that was reflected back and forth between the cloud cover and the white landscape. The appearance was kind of “other worldly”.

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This morning it was about 8 degrees F. and the snow had stopped falling. However, the wind was still blowing it off the roofs and drifting it on the roads so it seemed as harsh as before.  Common sights around town – icicles hanging off the eaves, cars and trucks with white snow caps and  ice covered windows, slush and salt on the roads. And cold, cold, cold…  Away from town, all was white. Snow is whiter than you can imagine when it’s clean and fresh.

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Do you know how carefully you have to walk when outside in this kind of weather? Seriously, every step has to be tested because a fall can be more than just awkward. It can be dangerous. To go out, you have to consider what kind of boots to wear,and how many layers of coats/jackets to put on. You have to keep track of your gloves, a scarf and a hat or you will freeze.  And every time you go back in a building all these things have to be taken off and stored. Wet things have to dry. It is time consuming and tends to inhibit going outside. You watch a lot of TV, particularly the weather channel.

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All this amounts to a culture of sorts.  People who get used to this are proud of their ability to last through the winter, and they would probably admit that there is something about winter that they like. I like it too (but I only have to like it for two weeks. It lasts for… oh, six months? Yeah.)  I’m just sayin… glad to be here. Brrr…