Angi's blog

Sometimes, in some years, a person can get a chance to experience the change of the seasons in 24 hours. Today/tonight it is happening – summer is giving way to fall in Minnesota. I had an afternoon of leisure today, strolling and shopping in a beautiful, abundantly floral plaza. Although it was 80 degrees and sunny, it was obvious Mother Nature has grown tired of being lively, and has a little rest in mind. It was the wind – reminiscent of the winds of change in “Chocolat” – and the sleepy sunshine of a Goddess who needs a nap- that made me know I was witnessing a grand and privileged day. With this knowledge came a deep sigh.

Tonight, as I sit on screened porch I am aware this will likely be the last time for many months that I lounge here by the open windows. Despite the temperature, it smells more like autumn than summer, and sounds more like Halloween than 4^th of July. If I needed any more convincing about the seasons’ plan, Muffin, with her innate canine wisdom, has chosen to sneak off and sleep in her warm, soft bed rather than linger out here with me. But although my body too longs to go to bed, I can’t resist staying out here while it quickly grows chilly, listening to the trees creak and groan in the wind (trying so hard to stay green). I can’t quite close and lock the doors for the night, because tomorrow brings Fall and Winter – and with them glories of another kind, beauty with a starker halo. These Seasons-to-Come require far more faith and bravery, which begs the question, “am I ready?”

Let me just say this – “Yes, indeed”.

Posted by Angi at 21:58

The Nest has been emptied. I didn't write all summer in the midst of the all the chaos, the very, very full nest, and constant state of busy. But now Lindsey is a married woman living in another state, Daniel is a Junior in college living in another state. And Jim, Muffin and I are collapsed in our chairs wondering what to do with ourselves.

The house is an interesting new place. I am aware, as I "reverse-nest" around here that we have entirely too much stuff for two people and one ten-pound dog. I am extremely grateful that we never caved into our desire to move to a bigger house, seeing how one fills up as much space as you are alotted. There is a capacity challenge that varies with each individual. Jim would fill up each null space with books. I am partial to all-things-kitchen. We are both smitten with art and pottery - though our collection is comparatively paltry. Thank God we are limited to the petite rooms of our city house.

My heart right now is too full to know what will become of all these thoughts. But let me just say this, I promise to treasure this new life as I have the other phases of my life. I might miss my children, but I won't long to go back. I'll look forward to what happens next, and I'll try not to fill up the void of the empty nest with more stuff.

Posted by Angi in Family at 19:04

There are certain things for which I get a failing grade. There does not seem to be a learning curve. Being a smart person and a relatively quick study in most areas of my life, I have come to realize that I am simply an abject failure at some hopelessly simple things. I am sad about this, but I am at an age that its seems my best recourse is to simply admit my blank brain spots and move on. It is my greatest hope that someone else in my life will pick up and fill in where I lack so we do not look like collective losers at my hand somehow. Thus far, Jim is doing a pretty good job of protecting my secret. I think I have mentioned before that he is pretty much better at everything than me, and I really lean hard on him here. (He even pretends that it is mildly cute when I can't accomplish these things, but believe me, it doesn't feel cute and I would never be so lame on purpose).

My F's come in the following. Faxing, for one. Others: photography, being photographed, remote controls - all types, remembering wine labels, reading in bed (instant zzzzzzzzz's), finding or memorizing my credit card number, knowing the location of my cell phone, keys, reading glasses, and coffee cup, returning videos on time, and rinsing the dog adequately.

In my defense I must say I have improved over the years on some of these things. The use of cheat-sheets, hooks, beepers, and dog dandruff have helped, but let me just say this - There Is No Cure. Were these tricks to evaporate and the dog to die, I would be back to the pitiful, whimpering girl who can only watch one television channel (Please God - let it be turned to Food Channel). And, thank some wonderful Spirit of Capability, I have none of these short-comings at work. This just deepens the mystery and widens the frustration, however.

This weekend, after I retrieved my credit card from Lee Ann Chin's restaurant where I had left it on the table  Friday, I realized how much I depend upon the kindness of others. Jim - well enough said - the man married me despite proof positive that my personal report card was humiliating. But imagine, all those people who hold the pose until I can get the lens cap off the camera, the angels who e-mail when my coffee cup is abandoned on their kitchen counter, those unnamed heros who find my glasses and tuck them in a safe place until I call, the kind souls who gently reach over and turn my fax papers in the right direction.

All the magic is in the kindness, the tender patience of those who render my tiny blessings. I deserve none of the protection from my failure, yet I am offered it almost daily. If one were to say to me there is no God, there are no angels, the world is only a cruel place, I would simply have to say "I don't think you are paying attention."

Posted by Angi in Spiritual Stuff at 02:00

When Robyn called to tell me she had "little heart attack" on Saturday and was in the hospital, I'm not sure I said this to her, but I certainly thought it... "YOU DID NOT". Of all the totally lame jokes she has told me in our 35 years of being best friends, this one was - well, too horrible to be a freaking joke. So I knew it was true - horrible and true. Really horrible and really true. 

You see, Robyn and I are little more than children at our ripe old age of 46. We sang, drank and cursed our 30's when we changed decades - we were SO GLAD to enter our 40's! We went on a cruise, for heavens' sake! (Granted, the cruise from Hell it was, but that is of no real consequence). We did our duty - we rang in the best decade of them all - old enough to avoid the pitfalls of youth, but still young, spry, healthy, and can stay up pretty late if we are really motivated. 

They called it a "shot over the bow", she "dodged a bullet", she is a "lucky woman". The major artery was 80% blocked, and the MINI heart attack was just short of a MAJOR heart attack. Surgery, hospital food, an 86 year old roommate who sat on the commode by her bed all night.  "YOU DID NOT!" I say. Today I really said it. We sort of laughed gently, as she is still weak from the stint procedure.

I know she is okay because she is complaining about her mother and her husband who are driving her crazy in the small room together. (when those two call me after the surgery, they are like old people telling each other what to say to me - leaving all the details on my message machine, "don't forget to say what the doctor said!" - "oh, and he said she can go home - wait - Bob, is it tomorrow?" - "Sorry, Bob is messing me up - WHAT?"). Robyn and I remind each other that we love each other - not our usual "Love ya, Gurl...." but, "I Love You" - no lip, no sass, as is our usual routine.  I get off the phone and cry because I am so scared.

Let me me just say this - I have been strong and brave these past couple of months. Our business is closing, Mom has had a health scare, a weird alcoholic friend has created some interest, Lindsey is getting married and moving to NY. I'm thinking I am ready for a little boredom - a little prayer. I'm sure of it.

Love ya, Gurl... 

Posted by Angi in Family at 17:46

Today I heard a sound I love - Jim whistling - and that got me thinking. I should really follow "words I hate" with somethings I love, so I present my balanced self. I think in general I praise more than I rant, so in that spirit here are some other sounds that I love.

A little baby giggling. Jim singing bass in the shower. Lindsey and Daniel talking with each other. Being called Mama. Muffin's doggy-purr - kind of a soft urh-urh-urh when you scratch her ears. Songbirds. Water gurgling in the pond out back. The key in the lock telling me the last kid is home for the night. The "Happy Birthday" song. My mother calling me "Angi Bug". Any child calling my name, eager for my attention. Music at the start of a dinner party. A crackling fire. Jim's footsteps coming up the walk. Dan singing in his Louis Armstrong voice. Rain in the night. Wind in the night. Christmas carols. The beep of the coffee maker saying it's done. Lindsey and Dom singing Indigo Girls. Neighbors shoveling snow.

There is so much to love - once you start listing things, let me just say this - it's hard to stop. Muffin is gently snoring beside me in the chair just now <sigh>. Yet another one for my list.  

Posted by Angi in Spiritual Stuff at 19:40

I have to say "blog" is at the at the top of the list of words I hate. Who thought this word was a good idea? the B, L and G sounds do not go together well with only one vowel - it sounds like an unpleasant bodily secretion of large proportions - like smegma - another blasfeme of the English language.

I also hate "nee" that you see in the obituaries all the time. It kills me (so to speak) that when I die someday it will say "Hooker, Nee Kibler, Angi" atop my photo. Put a frowning one in, will you - to denote how much I hated the word "nee"?

"Bling" - again the B. L & G sounds. I'm certain made up by the same person as blog. I don't want to imagine what that person's life is like - the over-the-top-overstimulation. I imagine him/her awash in bad sitcoms and text messaging while bathing.

"Papal" - sounds like you can't pronouce your "r's".

"Endive" - no matter if you pronounce it phonetically (en-dive) or with a french lilt (on-deeve), someone criticizes or giggles. Let's just say "cute little tightly packed lettuces" from now on. shall we?

Let me just say this - Tirade over.

Posted by Angi in Rants at 18:57

This is not an admission I would have made many years ago. But I've been pondering this for awhile now, and after 25 years of marriage, I am ready to admit it. He whups me in every game and crossword, he reads more and better literature than I do, he can debate without crying, he has a perfect sense of direction, he can draw great cartoon animals, he can fix or build anything, he's an amazing cook, and he cleans so thoroughly you can eat off the surface of said object. I could go on - oh, and wait, he does math problems for pleasure.

I had this discussion with my brother-in-law, Hal, at Thanksgiving. At first, being one to always bolster my self-confidence, he reacted skeptically. But then after hearing my arguments he relented, and added stoically, "your sister does pretty much everything better than me too." Having a partner in second fiddle status lit the fire under my bravery to admit my shameful secret. 

So what does one do when one's spouse is pretty much better than you at everything? One's ego might go two ways - let them do everything - or deny it and compete. Neither of these does much for a marriage, but I admit I have done both at times. However, these days - the glory days of the almost-empty nest - I find it no longer anything but useful and fun, plus genetically advantageous (our kids are smarter and better at pretty much everything than me too).

And, let me just say this - it's fun to go around with a smart guy. Lucky me.

Posted by Angi at 18:52

Something is bugging me, and it's bugging me that I'm bugged about it. I seriously don't want to be Mrs. Crabby Neighbor. But I walk the neighborhood a lot, and it seems to me that people don't care very much about their neighbors who walk. It seems that fewer and fewer people shovel. Well, okay, that may be me projecting, but humph.

One night I counted all of the corner lots that weren't shoveled on my two mile walk. 12 - yes, 12! These are, of course, worse than your average non-shoveled walks because they affect walkers in two directions. It is the prime example, in my obsessive mind, of nose-thumbing your plot-sharing companions on the earth.

There is this house that I walk by that cracks me up. Not only do they not shovel, but their Christmas greens (lovingly draped along their long, beautiful wrought iron fencing) are still up, nicely dead. And then last week there were balloons and crepe paper added to the fray. Now the balloons have wilted and have joined the dead greens, and the crepe paper is wet and falling off and melting into the ice where they haven't shoveled. I seriously cannot wait until spring to see what all this stuff does in the traditional spring melt soup.

"So what does this mean?" I say to myself. "Calm down", I guess. Take a breath. Walk in the street. Greet the dog walkers and the hockey players unloading their gear at the park (okay - that is a sport that I do not appreciate). But appreciate getting outside, be understanding of whatever keeps your neighbors from shoveling, don't waste your energy obsessing on stupid stuff.  Let me just say this - fairly simple and sooooo hard to do sometimes.

Posted by Angi in Spiritual Stuff at 16:49

I thought of this title this morning because I pretty much wear my sandals, affectionately known as my "birkies", year round. No longer cute, no longer age-appropriate, definitely embarrasing to my grown children, I schlep around all weekend and most evenings strapped into my beloved leather-and-cork buddies. I like to think it's kind of like Jesus, you know - feet all comfy and cool and caring nothing for what others think of our fashion sense. I even think Jesus wouldn't mind that I wear mine with socks although my friend Al says this is almost unholy in its lack of coolness.

Well, let me just say this - some days this is about as close as I get to spiritual.

Posted by Angi in Spiritual Stuff at 11:16