Do you have a Gladys Kravitz – that neighbor who loves to know what’s going on?
Do you have a Gladys Kravitz – that neighbor who loves to know what’s going on?
So, what do you do when your day blows up in your face? You know what I’m talking about – those times when everything you touch is an automatic disaster, and everything you once enjoyed has become insipid, and everyone you know is temporarily stupid. It doesn’t happen to me very often, but one day last week I came down with a bad case of the Crappity-Craps.
Not a worrier by nature, I somehow let myself believe that I personally had to come up with the answers to the 78 perceived problems that were clamoring in my brain, many of which belonged to Other People. That was part of it right there. I can do 77 problems, but that extra one put me over the top, and it was too late to effectively distract myself. I tried, though.
My go-to distractions are to create and organize, so I decided I would put a shelf up in my office and get rid of the clutter. I went downstairs to get the things I needed. I couldn’t find the drill I wanted and got mad and yelled, “Where are you, you stupid tool?!” and picked up the box of tools and hardware and dumped everything out on the basement floor. I should have stopped right there when I became possessed, but angrily carried on instead.
Up in the office I positioned the brackets, but was short one wall anchor. I went back downstairs to where I dumped out all my tools and hardware to find another anchor so the shelves would be strong enough to support my books and my ire. In that time I had been diligently working, Grace Kelly had decided the tools were invading her cat space and had peed all over them. Really? Now I had 81 issues: tools I had to pick up that were now whizzed on, no wall anchor I was going to touch, and a floor to disinfect. I should have stopped right there, but angrily carried on instead.
Got the brackets up, screwed the shelf into the brackets like Tom taught me, and breathed a sigh of relief and accomplishment. It looked pretty good, I must say. I arranged my books and Important Things on the shelf and went to make myself a cup of coffee and have some pie in celebration. I had just pressed the Keurig button when I heard a crash in the office. This isn’t hard to guess, right? Right. I needed that extra wall anchor after all. The weight of the books had partially pulled the shelf out of the wall and everything was all over the place and the lamp was broken. I should have stopped right there, but angrily carried on instead.
In a fit I dramatically swept everything from the desk space to the floor, yanked and twisted and pulled the stupid shelf the rest of the way out of the wall and yelled, “There, you stupid thing! That’s what you get!!!!” Well, that’s actually what I got and now had 86 issues: books and papers to reorganize, damaged shelves and brackets I could no longer use, big holes in the wall created by pulling out the anchors, a lamp to fix, and a mess in the kitchen. It seems in my distracted state I had neglected to put the cup under the Keurig and coffee was brewing all over the stove. I stopped right there.
By that point I had spent more than half my day angry and unproductive. I cleaned up the coffee, but left everything else where it was and went to Little Dippers for butter pecan ice cream. In that walking-away space I dropped 54 perceived issues that were Other People’s Problems and not mine to have to fix after all. I would like to say that I cheerfully returned and righted every peed-up thing that happened that day, but I didn’t. I shut the door on the tools and the office, picked up a book and a glass of wine and sat on the porch to read. I straightened everything the next day after I had taken some time off and returned to a state of Normal.
Here’s my point:
Take a breather. I am wishing you a week filled with grace and understanding and projects that work out. And drop me a response – I would love to know how you deal with a case of the Crappity-Craps. I might need some new techniques some day.
A couple days ago I was bidding safe travels to Jennifer and Mark who had stayed with us for several days. Jennifer commented, “We’ve stayed at B&Bs before, but they were always out in the country. I just didn’t know how this would be in the middle of a little town, but I LOVED it! We’ll be back!”
They loved that they could walk to restaurants. They loved that they could enjoy the pool, and that the Inn had lots of little places outdoors to sit and hang out. They loved that the town had sponsored a car show. They loved that everything was so close, but that the Inn was like their private oasis.
This place feels like the little town of Griffith where I grew up. People ask me what they should see while they’re in Mount Joy. There’s nothing to see and there’s everything to see, but next time you’re here, take in these tiny treasures that make Mount Joy, well…Mount Joy.
What are some of your favorite things in Mount Joy and Olde Square Inn? It’s time to come out and enjoy!
You know how you can be calm one minute and everything goes smoothly, then the next minute you can’t keep your head in the game and you’re like someone possessed?
This story is from last summer titled “Sometimes I’m Gordon Ramsey.” Surround yourself with positive people and refuse to be sucked into Other People’s Problems. You down w’ OPP?
Who doesn’t love those oldies tunes? I’m a sucker for a Bee Gees song. Around here, though, “staying’ alive” and “holding out for a hero” are more than just oldies tunes – they are our way of life. Here’s the thing: July 12 marks 4 years that my daughter Aimee went into renal failure and became a dialysis patient, and I’m on a mission.
Renal failure means her kidneys no longer function, and she relies on a machine to remove toxins from her body that ours eliminate naturally. The procedure takes seven hours every night, where a glucose solution is pumped into her abdominal cavity, dwells for a period of time, and is pumped out again for a number of cycles. It’s imperative that the body site where the tube is implanted is kept impeccably clean to keep infections at bay.
In addition to nightly treatments, it’s important that the foods she can eat contain a huge amount of protein, but don’t include things like nuts, seeds, dairy, and of course sodium. She also has to maintain certain mineral levels in her diet and has blood drawn routinely with her clinic to monitor the levels. All of this has to be structured while still balancing a diabetic diet that keeps tabs of carb intake, while making sure the meds she takes don’t interfere with one another. It has its challenges, definitely.
In the past four years Aimee’s had at least a dozen surgeries for various and sundry complications, 7 of which occurred within a 13-month period. She contracted Hepatitis-C from equipment at a dialysis center in Florida before she moved back here, but thanks to new drugs, that’s been eliminated. When we’re not at the doc’s or the hospital or the ER, life goes on pretty normally around here. Go figure.
What’s my mission? My mission is to find a living kidney donor for my daughter. Aimee is on a list to wait for a deceased donor, but the list is years long. People can live complete, full, and healthy lives with only one kidney, and you have two – one for you, and one to potentially share.
Here’s what we’re looking for in a possible donor:
Here’s how it works:
Here’s how you become a hero and completely change somebody’s life:
Even if you can’t donate, I’m shamelessly asking you to like this post and share it with everyone you know. Tell your friends, your church groups, your card clubs, your neighbors, your associations – whomever.
Whether you’re a brother or whether you’re a mother (Ha – do you get that bit of levity I snuck in there?!), you can be a hero! Ready? Share!
These are easy to make and your family will love them. What I especially like about these is that you can freeze the dough after you’ve patted into two 5″ circles and can pull them out when you’re ready to bake them fresh. Just thaw at room temp, brush with an egg wash and pop them into a preheated 400 oven for 10 minutes until they’re golden. We made a ton of these for our family reunion and every single one was snapped up!
In case you missed the list of ingredients:
Let me know how these turn out for you!
I’ve been friends with Karen for a long time. We’re about the same age, we are both homeowners, we consider ourselves successful career women, we both lead independent lives, and we both like antiquing and Cosmos. We like where we are in life.
But every two years or so when we forget how much we enjoy our independent lives, we go on eHarmony or Match or some such site and inevitably both have the same results. This is in no way a man-bashing story – we like men – it’s just a story about Adventures In On-Line Dating. It starts like this.
One of Us: I think I’m joining such and such dating site.
The Other: Really? Don’t you remember? Everybody is old but lies about it. And it’s the same people all the time.
One of Us: I know, but maybe there’s someone new who is honest. Besides, such-and-such just met so-and-so and seem to be working out.
The Other: It’s a waste of time.
One of Us: You’re right.
The Other: It’s dumb.
One of Us: True that. I don’t know what I was thinking.
The Other: Okay, so call me when you join and we’ll look at their pictures?
One of Us: Right. See you Thursday.
We got together Thursday at my kitchen table. The site gives you Hundreds of Perfect Matches, so you need to set up some solid elimination factors with solid reasons behind them. As hostess for this round, I did that before we went through the list. If you were a potential suitor, in my book you could be eliminated at first glance for these reasons.
Well, that wiped out 85% of the pool right there. Karen reminded me that with the remaining 15% we’d have to deduct at least 3” from their given high-school height, and add at least another 4 years to their ages. We were exhausted after the preliminary round. Further, the whole thing is a long, drawn out ordeal that sucks up your time when you could be doing other activities like pulling weeds, folding towels, or reading a book. It is painful, but we try to encourage one another to finish the process.
With that in mind, the next step at some point would be to begin typing messages back and forth to someone you chose to contact or who contacted you and appeared to have friends, was wearing a shirt, lived within wine distance, etc. My short correspondence:
Potential: Hi, I’m Michael! I loved your picture!! I’m looking for someone I can bring home to my two adult sons who live with me! I want someone I can snuggle with who will be my lifetime companion! What do you want in a relationship?!! What are you looking for?!!
Me: Umm. Wowee…I’m really just looking for someone to help me take the cover off the pool….
Michael: Hahahahahaha! You’re a kidder, I can tell!! When can we get together?!!
Me: Oh, well…we can’t, sorry. I just noticed that you’re outside my 20-minute wine radius.
Michael: Oh. They say love has no limits, but I guess they were lying.
I know many of you have met the love of your life on line, but I think my tolerance for serial dating expired a long time ago. So many other things to do – I have a business to run, people to see, contracts to sign, wine to drink, grandkids to play with, and books to write. There’s not a lot of extra time I want to forfeit.
You know how that goes, though. In a couple of years either Karen or I will come up with the brilliant idea of testing out online dating. By that time it’ll be her turn to host and we’ll be reporting from her kitchen table. Check back in 2019 for the surprising results!
Yes, the pool is open, and I’m ready for whatever phone calls might come my way. Don’t worry, though, we’ll keep the crazies at bay!
Just click here to make your reservation. I’ll save you a spot by the pool!
When my sister Jo and I were kids, maybe 9 and 11, we disobeyed our parents so we could sneak over to Topps Discount Store and buy the most beautiful gift a parent could ever want. I’m pretty sure it was a Mother’s Day because we had some walking to do and I don’t remember the weather being bad, but it could have been Easter. I just know that it was such a grand purchase and it was a very special celebration.
Topps was kind of like a Kmart, and back in the ’60s is was a pretty great thing. It was within walking distance of Community (kind of like a Walmart) where my parent were driving out to do some shopping. Jo and I had saved a couple of dollars between us and wanted to buy something big to help express our Mother’s Day love. We were allowed to walk through the store by ourselves, but warned not to leave the place. That was great, but Community didn’t have what we wanted, so we took the hike to the better discount store.
That’s where we found the beautiful snake. It was six feet long, yellow and fuzzy, and stuffed with some cheap scrunchy stuffing that would allow the proud owner to coil it up, stretch it out, or even shape it into a heart. It had big white plastic eyes with painted on pupils, and the snake had a blue bow around it’s “neck.” It was so big and fun – we had enough money to get it.
After paying, we lugged it back over to Community where our parents were. Since we weren’t supposed to have been sneaking out of the place, we asked the cashier for a store bag and ditched the one that had Topps printed on it. Now they would never know we’d left the store. So clever of of us! Don’t ever think your kids aren’t devious.
On the Great Day we put the beautiful snake of their beautiful bed and waited for my mother’s cries of happiness. I’m sure she thanked us, but I was to too wrapped up with petting the snake and adjusting it’s bow and straightening out its eyes to and wrapping it around me to really notice anything. I do recall my father, though, saying something like, “I think you bought that for yourselves,” which I vehemently denied. It did eventually find its home in the room my sister and I shared. Don’t judge: I know there are many of you out there who blessed your mom with gifts you wanted!
Here’s the thing. If you’re old enough to read this, you’re likely old enough to get your mom something better than a snake or a Fidget thing for Mother’s Day. Really. Go get some flowers, or a gift certificate for dinner someplace so she doesn’t have to cook (that’s like money in the bank!), or tickets to a show, or a massage, or my favorite pick – some time by herself, a night away! I didn’t remember how refreshing it could be to leave everything behind until I had that little stint in Dallas. To step away for even a night or two was a total reset.
It’s not too late to book this weekend for your mom at Olde Square Inn. I had a gentleman call to reserve a room for his wife. He asked if there was a special Mother’s Day breakfast or if we just served bagels. ??!!! What?!! If you’ve ever had breakfast here, you know he won’t be disappointed. (And of course we’re serving mimosas for Mother’s Day, but don’t tell him. It’s a surprise!)
If Mom can’t make it away this weekend, you can get a gift certificate on-line and she can choose the room and the weekend she wants. If you prefer, you can call me at 717-653-4525 and I can help you with that. Either way, I think you’re past the point of fuzzy yellow snakes. I’m looking forward to welcoming your mom – or your lovely wife – for a snake-free, relaxing and refreshing stay. Happy Mother’s Day! See you soon.