Age is Just a Number

On Lifeology Professors

life    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (lf)  n. pl. lives (lvz)

1.   The property or quality that distinguishes living organisms from dead organisms and inanimate matter....no no no, not that one.

2.   Slang. A sentence of imprisonment lasting till death.....eeek, not that one either.

3.   Using a living model as a subject for an artist: a life sculpture....done that, but not quite...

4.   for dear life  -  Desperately or urgently: I ran for dear life when I saw the tiger...well, that doesn't quite fit...

5.   Human existence, relationships, or activity in general: real life; everyday life....YES! That's it!  That one fits.

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-logy or -ology   suff.     Science; theory; study

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pro·fes·sor    ( P )  Pronunciation Key  (pr-fsr)
n.

1. 1. A college or university teacher who ranks above an associate professor.
   2. A teacher or instructor......
      
      I'm liking this....
      
      
      Where's my hat?
      
      

On Vay-Cay

Greetings from Kalispell, Montana!   I just had to sneak in here, late, to blog - I've lost touch.   This evening at 10:45 there was still light in the sky, so it's easy to get faked out and stay up way too late for my own good.

There have been some good bloggable moments lately and I hope to be able to remember a few to create a good story around;   like the antelope in Wyoming and their babies - some even with Twin-kies, or the mule deer in the campground, and Custer's Last Stand, or sailing last evening on The Flathead, and the 4238.72 calories I ate today for no good reason and then there's cinnamon rolls tomorrow morning....sigh...and not to mention Murray's Potato Gun....

It's good to be around family, however overwhelming it gets.   As my brother said, "We eat and barely finish before we're planning or shopping for the next meal!"

I'll be in touch.

At The Airport

We picked up my brother and sister-in-law last evening from the airport – it’s fun going there…images of travel waft in my general direction.   They are fun people;  sunshine seems to follows them.   We waited an hour for them to appear even though the flight monitors insisted they were "On Time".   So we had time to kill - and we know what happens to idle hands and idle minds…we came up with some names for cell phone users…

We have:

The Shouter, aka "Deaf Guy" – the guy who can’t find the right place for his ear and since he can’t hear you, surely you can’t hear him.

The Tour Guide – "Okay, now I’m walking through the terminal.   There are escalators.   Now I am on the escalators…"    They are probably talking to their friend in Saskatchawan.

The Lost One, a sister to the Tour Guide – "Okay, now I am on the escalators, but I don’t see you.   Where are you?   Oh, there you are.   Talk to you in a minute.", as they wave with the other hand, then hang up.   What did we do before cell phones?

The Oblivious One – these people put a cell phone to their ear and lose all contact with the rest of the planet.   They have a Mission and there IS a straight line between A and B.

Introverts – These shy folks have found another band of protection between themselves and the rest:   keep a cell phone to your ear and you won’t have to interact with real people.   Like sunglasses.

The Socialite – Usually women, they call someone and chat for two minutes.   Hang up, call someone else, and repeat over and over until they absolutely have to deal with the real planet.

The Quoter – We’ve heard them:   "And he said…and she said…and I said, It’s like, you know, and then he said…"

The Venter – a second cousin to The Shouter, only really angry.

The Borg – The Collective have implanted ear phones on their heads.   They may or may not sleep with it.   I still can’t figure out how they dial out…

The Beach Dude – He steps off the plane in surfer shorts, flipflops and a cell phone.   Uses it for 3 seconds to make contact and it goes back into the pocket.   No luggage, no backpack.

We had some fun.   Then ate Mexican Food.

Summer in The City

Remember these?  Watermelon is THE BEST!  I don't how many times I frustrated my mom when I left a stick in my jeans back pocket as a teen to have it laundered.  The little candies that are in the big bag of multiple flavors just aren't the same as the sticks; the sticks are the best.  My husband remembered these last evening when recalling going to outdoor movies.

So today is the first day of summer - Summer Solstice, the longest day and shortest night of the year.  I think the peak of summer should be about the middle of July, right between school's out and first day back to school.  The planets weren't arranged that way, so we peak early and then the days start getting shorter, even though the evenings are warm and you want to be outside... with your Jolly Rancher Watermelon Stick.

My brother and sister-in-law arrive today.  They are on The Continent for the summer during summer break in Saipan.  They will visit us, then drive with us to Montana for a family gathering of sorts to gather around my mom for a nice family photo - it could be the last considering how scattered we all are and her age.  In Montana, near the Canadian border, it won't get dark till about 11 p.m.  That's fun!  I am looking forward to visiting, eating, sailing and hiking.

Burger and Flies

I was dusting this evening to work off the Good Times Burger and Fries with a small Vanilla Shake, when I remembered the May Fly that landed on my arm while sitting outside the drive-thru.  It was just a baby that was barely spared a good swat since I thought it was a mosquito.  You might remember that May Flies remind me of summer.  More specifically the sight of this itty bitty one brought back vivid memories of the screens on the windows at my childhood summer lake cottage on Diamond Lake.

The screens were always covered with these little creatures.  We had those yellow lightbulbs in the outside lights, and those too always remind me of that place.  So imagine the yellow light illuminating the wings of the insects.  They were beautiful. 
My bedroom was on the side of the house of the "lagoon".  We were on a corner lot, if you will, with the front facing the lake and the whole length of the side running along the lagoon.  So I would wake up to light pouring into the windows and the black screens covered with May Flies.

And there were good smells too.  We had stacks of towels and boxes of bathing suits.  We kept these around for any visitors who showed up empty handed.  The bathing suits were so outdated I cringed even as a little girl - happy to have my own!  So we always had the smell of "wet" and water, but not mildew.

And the sounds - I would wake up to water softly lapping against the seawall, as we always called it;  An entire sidewalk that ran around our "corner lot" that Dad put in.  Or the soft putter of the motor on a pontoon boat that belonged to one of the neighbors heading out for an early morning fishing trip.

We had a willow tree planted outside my window.  I always thought it was a baby tree, hardly big enough for me to climb under.  When I saw this tree 3 summers ago it was taller than the house!  At the end of the weekend, we'd close up the place for the week and hop in the truck to wait in line, with all the rest of the folks leaving the island on Sunday afternoon, for the barge to take us back to the mainland.  Then, to top it off we went to The ice cream place, a Tastee Freeze or something similar, and sitting in the back of the truck we'd get our cones and eat them quick before they dripped all over.  Guess that's why I am such a fan of vanilla shakes now, a little less messy, but with all the sights, smells and sounds that send me off daydreaming.

A Birthday

Today is my nephew’s birthday. Is it still a birthday, though, when you are no longer living? I always call my sister on this day and I say "how are you?", and we both know why.

The first time I saw him the form of his entire little foot was pushing out of the side of his mother’s belly. I’ve never seen anything so clear, precious and living, but not yet seen! He was born on this day in 1977, Antony Joseph Shiya. A new nephew, a new grandson, a first son.

He lived a normal, happy, healthy boy’s life in a busy household with 5 siblings. He was a mom’s precious son. He was a proud aunt’s nephew. He became a strong, handsome 6’4" man and went off to college, with his dad’s Lebanese looks, softened by his mom’s Swedish heritage. He graduated poised to be a teacher, but tasted the fun and adventure of surveying during a summer job. He moved to Denver to start his life, along with his black Chrysler K car that he paid $50 a month to his grandparents, and he lived in my basement. I felt proud and motherly, yet companionable and guiding. He eventually found his own way and - STOP! The phone just rang and it’s my sister! We acknowledged the day and I sent a hug.




My nephew soon moved into a house with his college buddy who also relocated here. He bought his first ‘real’ car, a 1998 Jetta (Aunt Donna had one too). They had many friends, had fun and did stuff. That’s what 20 something’s do. And one night on his way home from dropping a friend off from nightclubbing sans alcohol his car was hit by a Ford Explorer driven by a 17 year old at 2:30 a.m., exactly 5 months before his 25th birthday, 2 miles from his home. A life done. No warning, no symptoms. Future hopes gone.

I last talked to him the previous Monday when he called and said "Hey, Aunt Donna. I have 3 job offers, which one should I show up to tomorrow morning?" I replied, "The one with benefits!" And we chatted our last chat.

I went to the horrible wreck to retrieve his rosary and personal effects. No one was with me to help wheel the stupid shopping cart across the Police Impound/Wreckage repository’s gravel yard to my car. I found one of his favorite shirts for him to move on with. I collected his belongings from his roommate. I wrapped a silk Columbine, Colorado’s state flower, in ribbon for his physical body to rest with. And we buried a sweet boy. A mom’s precious son. A proud aunt’s nephew.

If you visit Red Rocks State Park in Morrison, Colorado, and climb to the top of the amphitheatre on the left side, you will find a survey marker on the top level; a control point. Please say a prayer when you stop by.

Classic Antony

 

The Article written about Antony in a Surveyor's magazine called Side Shots:



And, a Healing Mom

On Nothing

Where I work there is a kitchen with all kinds of snacks - mostly salt and sugar.  The only protein is the half n' half in the fridge for the coffee drinkers.  One of the luxuries we have foodwise, that us women know about, is a secret stash of Dove's Dark Chocolates in one of the drawers.  Although, I don't think it's secret anymore since I saw one of the women open the drawer and grab a handful in FULL VIEW of one of the men; it's tragic.

So I got this one the other day.  It tells me that I am allowed to do Nothing.  What would I do if I did Nothing?  I immediately came up with a list without too much pondering: 

I'd grab a book
I'd head outside
I'd pet the hairless cat
I'd sort a load of laundry
I'd call a relative
I'd call a friend
I'd dust
I'd get my bike out
I'd read blogs
I'd find a snack
I'd paint my toenails
...to name a few

How can a person do nothing?  It's like the inverse of Bored inside out.  I don't do Bored either.

Hummer Delivery

 

I cracked up tonite.  On the way home I passed a Hummer with a Domino's Pizza Delivery Magnetic Triangle, Rooftop, Sign Thingy on it's roof. What's wrong with that picture?!

Sunday Morning Rebuke

When you are caught off guard is your response your true nature, or is it circumstantial?  Still thinking about that.

This morning at the hour that is entering into the luxury of sleeping beyond weekday alarms, I was called awake by, again, the neighbor's relentlessly barking dog - that bark where they've treed a squirrel.  This happened last Sunday too.  They are moving; I won't complain since I think they are in that "don't care" mode.

But, I drift....about that time the phone rings.  There is usually only one household who doesn't seem to have the concept of "quiet hours" when it comes to dialing our number.  The other household.  But the parents are out of town camping, I think.  Skipping over details that only serve to prove how irritated and intolerant I was, I saw that it was my oldest stepdaughter calling.  ~ We heard from her last week too, when she exclaimed that as soon as her mom left for camping, she went grocery shopping and bought what she liked:  veggies and makings for homemade chicken alfredo, saying she learned something from us. ~  So now, forgetting last week, I spoke to her, and I said "If you are going to call this early, then have the decency to leave a message or let us answer".  She said "I was hoping to go to church with you".

Really, I should end right here.  Point made.  I think I will.

An Odyssey

We have an exhibit at the Museum of Nature and Science called Space Odyssey.  I have not been myself, but my husband and his girls have been there.  His report was that it was "disappointing and boring" (excuse me, Dear, if I didn't get the right words, but you get the gist).  I have been wondering why an intelligent person would find boring or disappointing something that some committee somewhere put their heads together to design, lobby for $, and build for the cultural community and public entertainment (we're not talking Six Flags here).  You'd think we'd hear about it in the newspapers.

I have a friend who's entire family volunteers at this museum, particularly at the Odyssey; they've been trained and have been doing it for years, just about every weekend.  She said "Were there volunteers there running the exhibits when they went?  Did they interact with the exhibits?  If not, then it would be boring!".  Here's my perfect segue to my point...how predictable was that?

Bored, boring, being bored is not of my vocabulary, I truly don't comprehend "boring". 
I see folks at church who don't appear to like to sing, they don't appear to show deference in bowing a head or closing an eye during prayer, and they seem to find interest for a long time in the bulletin.  I know some of them.  I wonder; if they appear so bored, then why show up?   Now I may be a bit judgemental here...these are my observations.  How can this Planet be boring?

I have found that when you make an investment, interact, be curious, ask questions, step out of your box or in any other way put yourself out there you begin to sense ownership and that means being a part of something; belonging.   For me, that's what life is all about.