Looking Forward

Reading so many posts in the last week or so about preparing for the new year ahead; several of the bloggers mention taking time to look back at 2010 to think about what worked and what didn't, and then they make their resolutions or plans for the year ahead. This is honestly the first year I've read this about looking back first. I guess this might be a good thing to do, but I'm not sure if I want to dwell all that much on what didn't go well last year. I pretty much take things as they come, deal with them and then move on...it's over after that.

This last year was a bit difficult; we joined the thousands of people across the US that went through a foreclosure, but we opted to do this, we walked away from our home that was way underwater. We had bought the house just a few years prior during a move across the state and thought this would be our retirement investment. Not to be. We thought it out, did our homework and proceeded with what needed to be done. We are now renting a beautiful little home in a wonderful community and are glad that we made the move when we did. We handled it, we did what we had to do and we moved on. No real need to look back.

Looking forward to the year (s) ahead opens up a panorama of possibilities and dreams. I am spending some time thinking of what I want to do this year, really giving it some thought. I've not been a person to make resolutions for the new year, but now I will write a "to do" list of what I want to accomplish; not so much  resolutions, but goals.

I guess I am getting older...I've never liked setting goals, it felt constrictive to me, I just did what I needed to do; I guess I was reactive. I now begin to see things a little differently.

"A good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving." – Lao Tzu

We've been back from our most recent vacation for just a little over a month now. It feels more like a year. Having to work to pay for vacations sucks. And now that we're talking about it, I hate the word vacation. I like the word lifestyle....that's how it should be, don't you think? This working thing can get old.

I've always loved travel, always will. The husband and I love to get away alone, no hangers on, no agendas imposed upon us by others, going when and where we want on a whim.

Planning for the next trip is starting to percolate.

Cooking From The Past

Getting back in to the kitchen to do a little more cooking over the last few weeks has felt good. Preparing a meal isn't usually something I enjoy, but at times the mood strikes and I get in there and actually have fun.

The Thanksgiving meal this year was my inspiration, that's my favorite time of year to slice and dice and bring the meal together. The turkey stuffing I make is a recipe handed down from my grandmother to my mother to me. My Mom was one of four sisters, but she was the only one who ever made that turkey stuffing; everyone loved it, but she was the only one who took the time to make it. 

This year as I stood at the kitchen counter getting things ready for the stuffing, I could almost feel my grandmother and my Mom in the room nodding in approval. I thought of their hands over so many years doing what my hands were doing now.

Passing Knowledge On

I gave my first lesson yesterday to a young new daughter in law; this comes, I had heard, as part of being a woman of a certain age. It helps to have a daughter in law who asks for a lesson and is open to receive. I wouldn't offer otherwise.

The afternoon presented itself rather serendipitously when our husbands and grandson decided to venture out to do some guy things.

The lesson was simple, but the bonding it provided was comforting to my soul. We spent an afternoon together preparing a turkey for the oven; this was a simple process to be sure, but one the daughter in law wasn't too sure about and I was happy to demonstrate.

Cleaning out the turkey cavities was part one of lesson number one that included a retelling of the story of an aunt long since gone who cooked the turkey with everything on board. This is a story my mom told me, and I now passed it on. A great thing about passing on lessons is passing on family stories.
We finished our family's method of the turkey prep, popped it into the oven and then watched a movie together.

The guys were back soon enough to break our quiet reverie and give us grief about the chick flick we were watching.

The daughter in law's parents were coming later for dinner. I hope they were proud of their daughter and enjoyed her meal. We took a final look at the turkey roasting in the oven, gave some final pointers about basting and tenting, if needed, and made our departure.

I can't help but think about the lessons learned from my mom and this wonderful feeling of being able to pass it on.

Our son and daughter in law sent a picture of the turkey right out of the oven, and it looked beautiful.

The First Trips

Travel. I've always loved it, seeing new places, seeing how other people live. The anticipation of change.

My family always took summer vacations to Mexico to visit family; my Dad preferred driving down, but occasionally we took the train which was just another crazy kind of adventure.

Trips started out with loading the car (a baby blue Hudson) with the suitcases, and then all of the "encargos" (things not available in Mexico that relatives had asked for) and then my Dad cursing because it didn't all fit. For some strange reason seeing his craziness in trying to stuff everything into the car made me laugh, and usually until tears ran down my face, the more he cursed the more I laughed. I used to get in so much trouble right off the bat before a trip.

And then we were off. Days of adventures; crossing the Texas-Mexico border, driving through all the little towns, down dusty cobblestone streets. Kids selling Chiclets or wanting to wipe the windshield while we were stopped at a red light. We would stop by a local grocery and buy ready cooked meats and tortillas and then find a place along the road with shade and have a picnic...most often followed by Montezuma's revenge.

Enjoying Life A Little More

I sit here next to the fire on a rainy, cold Northern California evening thinking about life. A friend's husband died yesterday; he'd not been well for some time and I had been told he was going down hill, but I didn't expect that he would die yesterday. His wife, my friend, knew it was coming, only not when, and said she was frantic when she found him; he was found in his chair where he had fallen asleep the night before.
It's just so strange. I mean, one minute someone is here and then they're not.

So many people live like there is never going to be an end. Wasting time, wasting days, wasting precious moments not enjoying all there is to enjoy right now.

A couple of months ago something in my mind changed ever so subtly, I can't quite put my finger on it. I just started doing little things I don't normally do, eating things I don't normally eat...enjoying life a little bit more.
I guess it all comes with understanding that I am a woman of a certain age.

I look up at the title of this blog and am taken aback. I've changed the title a couple of times since starting this site and have settled on this one quite happily, or so I thought. Now I glance up and wonder who is writing this. Is the author talking about me? A woman of a certain age? I almost envision a bustle on the back of my dress. But no, it is me; and yes, I've reached that certain age. All of a sudden it's pleasurable and I feel peace and contentment. I don't want to be 29 any more.

So let me introduce myself. I was born in San Antonio, Texas some years ago (you don't expect me to actually give you my age, do you?) and spent my preschool years staying with my grandmother, Mercedes, who owned a hamburger joint across the street from San Pedro Park. I learned the business and how to lure people in (throw chopped onion on the grill and the aroma draws 'em in, and don't forget to sprinkle holy water around the perimeter periodically). It worked like a charm. Grandma Mercedes was a wonderful woman.

Catholic school snarled me up for 16 years, but I'm over it. I spent idyllic summers growing up in Mexico with aunts, uncles, and cousins; I also spent my fourteenth year at a Mexican school in Guadalajara to once and for all learn Spanish. Not being taught to speak Spanish before that is a whole other story for another time.

Hasta entonces.

A Quiet Space

This is such a nice quiet space; away from Twitter and facebook. No comments, no likes, no retweeting. Room to breathe and think about thing for awhile.

Getting my life back in order after a tumultuous three months at a new job outside my home, and a miraculous return to a job that I had working from home that initially was thought to be over. It was a contract pulled back from the edge, in fact it was over the edge and gone, and somehow pulled back. I can't help but think that the Universe was looking out for me.

I have found over the last several years that asking for a good outcome and then letting go of difficult situations is my best path. I had a very hard time in the beginning with the letting go part, I kept telling myself that I didn't know how, and then it crystalized mysteriously and now just seems to happen.

Let go, breathe, relax.