The Mink That Made Its Way Home

   
    

    When I was five years old, my grandmother would care for me before school each day.  She would turn the stereo console on and play big band music from the 40's.  I remember dressing up in her mink stole as we danced around the living room spinning and twirling to the classics.  She told me that one day the mink would be mine and I hoped that I would be as beautiful as she was wrapped in luxurious mink.

    Time, of course, came and went and my grandmother passed away many years ago.  I have often wondered what happened to her mink stole and wished that I could wear it just one more time.  Little did I know, my grandmother had given the stole to her daughter and sometime during the early 80's when fur was not fashionable and we were wearing hideous things like leather pants and spandex, my aunt tossed the mink into the Goodwill bin near her home. She did not know that anyone actually wanted the mink and donated it to charity.  She told me she remembers looking in the rear view mirror of her station wagon as she pulled away from the collection bin and saw a man climbing in to retrieve what treasures he could. And that was the last we saw of the mink.... or so we thought.

   Move the clock forward thirty years.  I am now 48 and find myself thinking more and more about the wonderful memories of my youth.  The same week I told my family about dancing in my grandmother's mink as a child, my aunt went shopping in downtown Indianapolis.  She entered an antique store and there, on a mannequin, was an age old mink needing to go home.  My aunt stopped in her tracks and told her friend, "That's my mother's mink!"  One would never believe this as there are certainly plenty of mink stoles in this world, and how would one ever really know if that was theirs from so many years ago.  But... she turned to her friend, knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was her mother's stole and placed on the table the one card that would clearly determine if this was indeed her mother's lost stole.  Her initials would be stitched inside the wrap.  As they lifted the mink from the mannequin, there in script embroidery were the letters T M P for Thelma Mae Pietrobon, my grandmother.

    After thirty years and a seventy five dollar purchase, the mink was back in the family and shipped directly to my door where I found a mystery box with my childhood memories tucked inside.  I carefully removed the wrap from the box and placed it around my shoulders once again.  Somewhere high above, I know that my grandmother has to be smiling down on me as she sits in Heaven spinning old tunes of Benny Goodman playing "How High the Moon."   The mink's return is proof that some things are just meant to be. 

   

Cooking While Driving

www.healthline.com

 
  As my son prepares for college, I’ve read dozens of brochures about career fields and all the great things one can be.  While I am a college graduate and do have a good career, I think the university may have failed in truly preparing me for my place in the workforce.  I understand the skills required for someone with my degree, but nowhere in the pamphlet about academic choices, did they include a picture of a woman racing into work with a bag of potatoes in one hand and a crock pot in the other.    While duty calls, so do the hungry bellies of our families and we have learned to do what we can, where we can and when we can.  My friend Kelly has figured out how to work and cook at the same time to meet the demands of the workplace and her family.  I’m certain when she chose her career path it didn’t include defrosting roasts in-between assisting clients.

  I remember the early nineties when mini-vans first came out and my friend, Hal, bought one that had a built-in refrigerator and a stove top warmer.  He was thrilled that you could heat a can of soup while driving down I-40.  Being single and unaware why that might have been a selling point to a man with five children, I could not figure out why anyone would ever want or need to cook and drive at the same time. Oh, I was so naive.

  Now, as I have gotten older and have children of my own, I fully understand the thinking behind such a wonderful option.  Of course, my kids, unlike their mother, would never eat Spaghettios out of a can and I would need a vehicle with a full Viking range and a Scotsman Ice Maker that dispenses nugget ice just like Sonic.  In fact,  If I could start dinner in my car, on my way to work, I may never actually have to unload groceries again.  Everything would be right where we need it.  This would require extra space for storage and a prep counter and possibly a separate hand washing sink, so the car would have to be very long.   We may, in fact, have to go up and design a double decker, fuel efficient, meals on wheels vehicle that could carry me to and from work.  If we could squeeze in a washer and dryer, I might be able to knock out some laundry while I’m working on next year’s business plan.  Tell me I wouldn’t be popular walking into the board room smelling of home cooked potatoes and Downy. 

  Until then, we will continue to thaw meat in our passenger seat, cook in the back rooms of our offices and tote bags of potatoes where they are needed. 

Put Your Left Foot In

 

    Morning should be quiet and peaceful and should not include hunting for one's own shoes that have disappeared overnight.  It amazes that I can take both shoes off in one location and yet, without fail, the pair separates sometime during the night when nobody is watching.   While hopping though the house this morning, wearing only one black leather boot, I mined for the missing mate in the closet, under the bed and in my daughter's room.  It's sad to report that I never found the other boot, but I did find a small collection of left footed shoes under my couch.   This begs the question, "Why?" and even "How?"  Why would anyone have a need for one shoe only and what would be the reason for a small collection of shoes, for the left foot only, to gather under my couch!?!  After turning the house upside down and slowly slipping into madness, I concluded that we had a one legged shoe thief who liked my shoes, but needed only one from a each set.  It's either that or there is a crazy game of Hokey Pokey going on after I fall asleep each night. 
    I left word for my daughter to please locate the missing shoes and oddly, without fail, she matched all the shoes and left them in my room.  She has an uncanny ability to find lost things and restores sanity to my world.  

    It is not uncommon for items to come up missing in my house.  It is usually after a complete meltdown on my part that the items magically reappear.  It is odd to me that a 10 gallon stock pot or a plunger can mysteriously vanish with nobody knowledgeable as to who removed the items from the house.  I've learned not to get too attached to material things as who knows when they will suddenly come up missing.  They normally return, but not until I've moved a few steps closer to madness. To this day, I'm still missing some right footed shoes, a very special wine opener, a three legged cat and a mop that must have walked right out the door.   

 Thanks to Ben Simo for the great shoe pic.  http://BenSimo.QualityFrog.com/
----------------------

Oddly, my concern over left footed thieves could be valid as I ran across this recent article...

Unfashionable Thieves Make Off With 50 Oversized Right-Footed Shoes

By Coburn Palmer Thu., Dec. 6 2012 at 1:50 PM
SFWeekly Blogs

If the shoe fits...

We're not kidding when we tell you that a San Francisco shoe store had some $10,000 worth of right-footed plus-sized shoes stolen Monday night.

Perhaps it was the work of some right-footed peg-leg pirates?

According to Johanna Nilsson, a spokeswoman for LLXLLQ (AKA: really large shoes for women), she parked her car near 19th and Valencia streets, leaving a suitcase of 50 right-footed shoe samples in her trunk. When she came back, the shoes -- and incidentally, her Christmas spirit -- were long gone.

The Palo Alto-based online store, which specializes in oversized Italian shoes, is now hoping that a good Samaritan who appreciates shoes will find the footwear and return it.

Yes, there's a reward -- no questions asked. Anyone who returns all 50 shoes can get either a free pair of oversized footwear (one right and one left shoe), or $150 Visa gift card. If you know what happened to the shoes, call Nilsson at (650) 516-7463.

Perhaps we shouldn't be surprised if now there's a sudden rash of left-footed shoe thefts around town.

   

    

 

 

Merry Christmas to All and To All a Good Night......

 When it snows after dark in a community that doesn't often get snow, kids will go to great extremes to have fun.  As the giant snowflakes fell on Christmas night, my kids raced out into the cold in an effort not to miss a good time.  It's a sure sign they are having way too much fun when your teenage daughter is towed home in her golf cart by "the cute boy" down the street, dragging a tiny wheel and more friends behind her.   

  My kitchen was turned into a staging area for wet boots, dry towels, frozen children and hot chocolate.  The kids beat a path back and forth to the hot tub until about two a.m.  With the steam coming up into the night air and nothing but the kid's heads above water, it looked like they were basking in a big vat of soup.  Leaving them to simmer, I made my way to bed around midnight.  I could still hear the sounds of giggling kids echoing through the house.   

  About 2:30 a.m., my son woke me and said, "You know how you've always told me to wake you if something cool is happening and you don't want to miss it."  While I was referring to events such as  an alien take-over, a re-run of The Walton's Family Christmas special, or some child crafted crisis quickly spinning out of their control, I had no idea what "cool" thing was occurring in the middle of the night and had to get up to see.   With great detail, my son explained how the street lights were reflecting on the snow and everything outside was reflecting light making it appear to be daylight in the middle of the night.  At 2:30 a.m. I donned by still wet snow boots and a jacket and wandered out into the cold with my son expecting to see this great light beaming through the night.

  We walked outside and all appeared normal to me.  My son was in awe of the orange sky and the glistening trees all reflecting light across the neighborhood.  We stood there together in the middle of the night just looking out into the world.  I have seen the snow light up the night many times and it is beautiful.  I suppose my children have not seen this as much as I have and I am glad that they noticed.  As I stood outside with my son under the orange sky, by a steaming hot tub, looking out into the semi-dark street,  I wished that I could take him back to 1972 to the small bedroom window that I once peered out of, to watch in awe how the snowy night glowed and the streets lit up like Christmas. It is a beautiful sight to behold whether you are eight years old with your nose pressed against a window or you are 48 standing there in a robe and snow boots.  I'm glad my son noticed the magic.  I'm even happier that he woke me to join him.   

  So, it was a White Christmas in our southern town and that doesn't occur but about once a century.  We grabbed as much life from it as we could, and sometime before the sun rose, we all collapsed in our beds from our dreams of a white Christmas. 

The End of the World as We Know It

npr.org photo

    According to my husband, the Discovery Channel and a Mayan Calendar, long since given up for iCal or the Outlook calendar, the end of the world is scheduled to occur tomorrow, December 21, 2012. As luck would have it, a mighty storm blew in on the morning of Dec 20th.  We woke to total darkness and a primordial wind certain to be the messenger of prophetic things to come.  Had it only been Dec 21, a lot of people might have been asking a few more important questions….  “Why didn’t I believe my husband?”  “Is this really the end?”  “If I’m leaving, should I turn the iron off?”   

    With the world shrouded in darkness, I headed out into the unknown and knew this could be the beginning of the end as I got stuck in the early morning double drive-thru lane of McDonald’s, unable to move forward and unable to let those behind me place their breakfast orders.  I had become a place holder in a line of coffee crazed people, all watching the skies and waiting for the cash register to reset as the power grid faded.   As I sat there, I wondered what would happen if I had only one day left to affect great change in my life and assure the wellness of my soul.  Could purgatory possibly be a never ending drive-thru lane with 70’s music blaring for eternity and the smell of coffee just out of reach.   What if the entrance to heaven was blocked by a giant SUV that I simply could not get around, no matter which path I choose?  This was not a place I wanted to be.  What if I had missed the opportunity to do good for others and the end was now here?  Was my grand finale going to be simply me with my head on my steering wheel waiting for a cup of joe?  A new realization hit me that there was still a lot of work to be done and this could not be the beginning of the end.

    As the skies of gloom swirled overhead, and the smell of breakfast treats filled my car, I drove on mapping out a new plan for the end of the world that had nothing to do with December 21st.  My emergency preparedness stockpile of peanut butter and silver nuggets weren’t enough to survive a cataclysmic change in life as we know it.   It would require more than a package of non-hybrid survival seeds and fleece lined mittens. What is needed in the end of times is not a hoarding of food product and weaponry, but a change in culture where the goodness of one becomes contagious and spreads like a virus.   A stranger sitting in a diner, anonymously paying for dinner for others, or a retired lady giving an extra tip to the car hop could affect small change that they may carry forward.  Countries are not going to lay down their weapons and I don’t expect them too, but the goodness of man still holds great power and great promise and we can’t forget that we have the power to help one another even in the smallest and most anonymous of ways.   Kindness is more powerful than the greatest destructive force.  It is a tool we can all claim without a permit, a license, or a real understanding of it's long lasting affect.

    So, the world didn’t end today and I don’t expect it to end tomorrow, either.  Those are things we have no control over and they aren’t worth the time we take to worry about them.  I’ve checked my soul, checked my lists and checked out of the double drive-thru.  It is time to move out and do something good for someone else before the end of days actually does arrive or I am blocked from doing good things by another roadblock or giant SUV in my path.
 
Note:  It is already Dec 21 in Japan and the world is still kicking!  wooohooo

The Hanging Santa

 

  Christmas tradition is important in our household and each year we attempt to drive around town to see the holiday lights.  I often fail at doing this in a timely manner and on New Year's Eve, the last night of the local park's "Tour of Lights", my children and I are known to fly into the park, right at closing time, in one final attempt to capture a look at the elaborate light displays. As we are driving past, in a last minute holiday panic, the lights are going out and stakes are being pulled up as it is long past time to go home.  I feel successful if I can stay just two or three lights ahead of the crew breaking down the holiday display.  In my rush, I always forget about the volunteer at the end of the tunnel of lights who is waiting with a festive bucket, in hand, to collect donations to support this attraction.  It never fails that there are no one dollar bills in my purse and I'm forced to decide between a twenty dollar bill, a box of Altoids, or a prescription for some pain killer that I never filled.   While I personally would prefer the latter, I reluctantly hand over my twenty dollar bill and drive out of the impending darkness that is quickly closing in on us.  

  The Christmas display, however, that my children and I love the best is the Hanging Santa in a very upscale neighborhood.  It is a marker of the holiday and Christmas would not be complete without it.  In a beautiful two story home, the owners have proudly displayed a life-size Santa Claus in their upstairs window.  The problem is the fact that Santa's head is cocked over to the side and if you are positioned just right on the street below, a light fixture behind Santa creates the illusion of something rising up from his head, or possibly neck, creating a disturbing image of a hanging icon.  But because we have a twisted sense of humor and we know this is not intentional, we love the Hanging Santa and look forward to his arrival every year.  I do hope they don't ever forget to display him at Christmas.  It's better than the "Tour of Lights" and brings smiles to everyone in my vehicle and those hanging out of the sunroof, trying to capture photos of this jolly elf.  

  The grand prize for holiday decorations, however, goes to a small tattered home off the main highway.  It sits in the middle of a row of forgotten houses, some condemned and some simply still trying to provide refuge to any family that lands on its doorstep.  A strand of garland has been draped over a chain link fence and a string of lights lays across the front steps.  A cardboard nativity scene has been placed in the back yard clearly telling all that this family still believes in a higher power when material goods are few and far between here and blessings may be harder to understand.   It just goes to show you that joy can be found in the most unlikely of places.  Sometimes, you have to simply open your eyes and look for it.   While the path to happiness is not always marked with a string of lights or flashing arrows, the path is there and some times we all need to set down our burdens for a minute and enjoy the view.  




  

  

Peace, Love and What???

  There is nothing more precious than child innocence.  While it appears that this message may, indeed, be upside down, it seems that an upended pink ribbon is a call for better testing for earlier detection of breast cancer.  Who better to deliver such a message than a group of young girls with bright futures ahead of them?  While my daughter actually has no idea that she is holding the poster upside down, her mistake quietly sends a much more powerful message across this field. Who knows, but any one of these young ladies, excited about their part in participating in a campaign of hope, could go on to be the one to discover just such a test or cure.   So even if the symbols are upside down, or even fall to the ground, our youth are learning to be a part of something bigger than themselves and might just one day deliver this message exactly as they innocently displayed this Fall day in their youth.  

Picture by Kathi Kolb
www.accidentalamazon.com