Season of Giving

I love giving gifts. To be honest, I really get more of a charge out of giving that getting. I tend to ask for practical gifts when pressed for a list.
That being said, my spouse tends not to ask for a list from me and strikes out on his own to get me the most practical gift he can find. Past gifts have included feed buckets for the horses, a tiller, a Spotbot, upright vacuum cleaner, and various other instruments of household fun. These gifts do not offend me as they would most wives. I know they will be used and appreciated.
He does listen to my few frivolous requests though. The lovely royal purple jacket that cost way too much for me to buy for myself comes to mind. He has bought me riding breeches, even though he does not care a whit for things equestrian. Last year he completely surprised me with the winter white outdoor swing coat that I had been eyeing in the catalogues for months. The sad part about that is that is was not cold enough to wear it last year so it remains in the closet unworn. I am hoping to wear it this year, or at least have an excuse to wear it somewhere nice.
We chose to focus on our son this year for gift giving. Because of the economy, and perhaps the fact that we have everything we need for materialistic happiness, we decided to have a price limit on the the gift we give each other. I have found his gift this year. I found two, in fact, and still stayed below the price limit. I have given him one idea for me, and yes it is practical but luxurious. I even gave him the Target flier when it was on sale a few weeks back. So if he laments the fact that he has no ideas of what to get me for Christmas, remind him of the king size ultra plush Shabby Chic blanket that I am dreaming of. But don't tell him I told you.

The promise of a meteor shower

As I got back from my walk, I remembered that tonight was the night the Leonid meteor shower. I leaned back against my car and looked into the sky. I scanned the heavens not knowing what area to look. Suddenly in the south eastern sky, I saw a flash and a streak of light fall toward the horizon.

With that, and the promise of more, I hurried into the house, grabbed my Snuggie (my mother-in-law gave me one for my birthday)off the couch, turned off the porch lights and tried not to trip as I went down the steps to the yard.

I dragged an Adirondack chair across the lawn and settled in looking toward the south, but with a clear view of the east. The night was more alive with sound than meteors. Dogs barked and I tried to guess which direction they were coming from and who those barking dogs belonged to. The horses were blowing as they worked on the pile of hay I left for them to eat on this chilly night. Tree frogs in the autumn have a different call than in the summer, sort of a click, click, click but with the resonance of a wooden percussion instrument. I smelled Daisy's foul breath as she came over looking for a scritch on the ears. Time for a cleaning, I think to myself. Gatsby, the clumsier of the dogs, knocks into my knees as he comes looking for his pat on the head. Suddenly the two take off barking after some unseen prey. I wait to see if I hear the crashing through the brush that would mean deer were trying to settle in on the long grass out front. I don't hear it so I think it must be a rabbit or something small and quick.

It is quiet for a moment. I see another flash of light in the sky and a long streak of light falling toward the ground. Not bad, I think to myself, two sightings. I wrap the Snuggie around me tighter, and stretch out my arms to catch two furry dogs heads. They are planted under my hands enjoying a good scratch. In the distance I hear a coyote howl, then another joins in. Soon the whole pack is howling and yipping in a frenzy. They must have caught something for dinner. I continue to pet the dogs hoping they don't decide to join in. Soon it is quiet again. Dewey is running around the pasture. The cold must be making him frisky.

I keep scanning the sky for more meteors.

Nothing.

I am getting chilly and sleepy. The dogs trail along eagerly as go back in the house, like I am the meteor and they are my tail disappearing into the house.

Me and my crazy dreams...

Last night, or I should say this morning, I had a dream that Colin Firth ended our affair with an email that said something in French on the top line, the next line said "I am afraid it has to be this way but we both know we like the pink ones" there was a partial address (British) and then a photo attached that was him with a woman...maybe me? In this dream, I remember being surprised because I was not even aware we were having a fling. Could not even remember being with him at all..but there was this picture.....I careful composed an email back to him. I wanted it to be in French as well. I looked up on the internet how to say "easy come, easy go". I woke up before I could find the translation.

I always have the strangest dreams......

The Neighborhood

Does proximity of houses have something to do with how friendly you are with your neighbors? Or is it just that you have all chosen a neighborhood for the same reason and therefore have a common ground. I think about this quite a bit.

When we lived in a average neighborhood in South Austin, where the homes were about 20 feet from each other, we never really were social with our neighbors. We knew them enough to chat on the sidewalk at 11pm, let their cat play in our house, and knock on the door to ask why the hell they turned off our water from the main valve on the lawn. We did not know them well enough to ask them to watch the dog when we went away, to ask them to turn down the music so our walls would not vibrate or borrow a cup of anything. I did love

We moved to the country after four years of living in that 1300 sq foot home in south Austin. Our nearest neighbor for a long time was the one across the street, across the street and down a 500yard driveway, not so close. Basically neighbors are close for a walk but far enough away to not be heard in daily activities.

Last night I drove down the hill to Terri's. Dropped off the kiddo to play with her son. Her hubby was home to watch the boys so we talked horses for a bit and then went for a walk. A walk down the driveway, and across the street to Kellie's. We opened a bottle of wine, sat on the front porch, until the mosquitoes got the better of us, and chatted. We finished up the wine and headed back to Terri's. It was dark by then but we felt relaxed and happy. The boys were fed and happy as well.

This sort of thing happens all the time. I love it. We have impromptu pool parties, pot luck dinners, game night and you can always find someone to watch your kid for an hour or so if you need to get some work done. Then there are the planned events....wine and cheese parties, progressive dinners, food and toy drives, holiday parades and Halloween hayrides. Maybe it is because we all have our "space" from each other and maybe because of the isolation, we crave company. I have no idea. I do know when we were on top of our neighbors, we wanted nothing to do with them. Now I would not trade my neighbors and friends for all the money in the world. They make my life and my family's life infinitely better.

Smoking ghost

Last night...3am.... I woke up and smelled cigarette smoke. More like the kind of smell when it is on someone after they have been outside for a smoke than a fresh smell. It was a harsh smelling brand, like Camel or a hand rolled. It confused me. I don't smoke, my husband quit years ago and we don't live near anyone who smokes. As a matter of fact, we physically don't live near our neighbor's homes.

I got out of bed to see if maybe husband had fallen on old habits and was sneaking a smoke outside on the front porch. He was sound asleep in our son's room with him. Puzzled I decided not to go downstairs to check it out. I went back to bed. Then I heard to front door latch click. It sounded like the front door. Sometimes if the door is not locked or shut properly it blows open. I got up to see if that happened. Nope, the door was shut. Daisy, our border collie/coyote mix was sleeping in the hall by the door. Surely if someone was there, she would have barked up a storm.

Back to bed. I decided to meditate to clear my head. The smoker's odor still present. I tried to keep it out of my head. My mind started to form a picture of this spirit that I did not like. A man with an old felt hat and sneering, snarling grin, a nose that looked like it had been broken a few times, dark stubble from a day's old beard and eyes that had no real eyeball just a glow. Okay! No more meditation. Happy thoughts! My imagination is really too much sometimes.

I really an getting curious about this cigarette smell though. It has been inside my truck on many occasions. I thought a mechanic was an ass and left a cigarette butt in my AC unit or near a fan. Lately I have been noticing the smell in my car too. Only when I am alone though. There have been no smokers in my truck or car, not even as passengers.

Thinking back to smokers in my family and the only one I knew was my brother-in-law who died young. Why would he be hanging out with me? Why not my sister? Maybe it is someone I never met, maybe it is my imagination. I really have no idea but I really do not like the smell of stale cigarette smoke. That is part of the reason I don't like to go to places where folks will be smoking. I am open to all suggestions. Thoughts?

My Vision of Future Beauty Standards

If I were a BEAUTY fashionista, I would make some changes to make the average female, over 40 set, feel much better about themselves. First of all I would make laugh lines and forehead wrinkles cool. If you don't have them, you have no sense of humor and no life experience. Basically you are not cool, have no substance and live a vacant shallow life. The twenty something set would be clamouring for makeup to enhance their budding wrinkles, practice crinkling their nose when they smile and laugh at least 4 hours a day.

Next thing would be enhancing the black circle under eyes. Think of the possibilities, blue tones, purple tones, shades of gray. Under eye shadow I will call it. The average over 40 set will save a fortune on makeup because they have earned their circles trying to squeeze 50 hours of activities into 40 hours.

Lips will not be plumped. Thin lips will enhance the large eyes, that framed by the dark circles. Pillowy lips will not be a sign of youth and sexuality, more like a gross exaggeration. Thin lips, accented with a slash of red or plum lipstick. White teeth will still be vogue and with thinner lips, they can be seen much better.

Age spots will be known as freckles and be cute. That extra chin will be viewed as a sign of wealth and prosperity (much like olden times).

Now if you will excuse me, I am going to surf some plastic surgery websites....wonder how much Botox injections run....

The Beach Club part one

This past weekend I took my son to his Oma and Opa's house on Long Island. They live in a lovely town with large homes, old trees, manicured landscaping, the same ubiquitous floral wreath on every door and quaint shops in the village. Because it rarely gets hot, most older homes do not have central air, relying on window AC units when the mercury rises above 90 degrees.

This weekend the hydrangeas were in blooms in various shades of blue and purple. Black-eyed susans danced in the breeze and impatiens brightened shady nooks in flower beds.

We spent a good amount of time at the Lawrence Beach Club on Atlantic Beach this weekend. It is an old club that some families have been going to for years and years. There is a main dining room, an upstairs dining room and bar area forbidden to children, lockers with showers for changing and cleaning up, a pool, tennis courts, playground, shaded dining deck, and of course lovely beach access.

We attended a Family Dance Saturday night geared toward the kids. The boys wear blue blazers, or the occasional seersucker suit. Some have ties, most wear shorts and loafers. The girls are lovely in their Lilly Pulitzer dresses or other cute sundresses with jaunty bows in their shoulder length hair. All the children are bronzed by the sun and run wild with the confidence that this is a safe place to be. Younger boys wrestle in the sand in their blue blazers or climb the dunes. The older boys try to look cool on the dance floor in their madras shorts and aviator sun glasses. The girls, all the girls, are on the dance floor twirling their dresses or learning the latest line dance.

My son chose to stick close to momma. He made several trips to the buffet learning that there are several types of salami. At the dessert buffet, he learned that his eyes are bigger than his stomach,leaving one of his two scoops of ice cream to turn to a cold soup.

At the end of the evening he asked to leave, feeling exhausted from playing on the dunes and dancing next to his table. One the way home, he asked if he could take off his "costume". I tried hard not to laugh in the back seat of the car. I had spent quite a bit of time earlier explaining that kids in New York dress differently than kids in Texas. He was convinced he looked silly in his blazer. Later he referred to it as "the stupid jacket". Again, I had to suppress my laughter. I had tried to get him to wear the outfit his Oma had planned for him complete with sand dollar tie. He looked adorable. But like his father, he has definite ideas about what looks good and what does not. Maybe next year, he will remember that all the kids dress that way and he will submit. Somehow I doubt it.