Beauty regimes through the "ages"

This morning I was going through my morning beauty regime and my mind began to wander the way it does, you know, "where's my blush applicatior?  There it is, the brush bristles look like horse hair, I wonder if horse hair brushes are made from the horse's tails, Paige loves horses, her birthday is next month, do I have a gift for her, I need a gift for a wedding reception next week, I need to go shopping, oh I'm out of lemons I better put them on the list, ooo, I love lemon in my diet coke, wow, I'm thirsty".  and then I go in the kitchen to get a diet coke and standing in front of the fridge I think, "what was I doing?"  But, I have wandered off the path of my subject, so let me turn this jalopy of a brain around and see if I can get back on path.

When I was in my teens, my beauty regime consisted of picking the sleep goobers out of the corners of my eyes in the morning, brushing my teeth, and combing my hair.  There, good to go.  In my early twenties I may have added a bit of mascara and the slightest tinge of blush.  In my thirties, I finally grew up and discovered eye shadow and lip stick and increased my regime from 30 seconds each day to about 15 minutes and I felt like I looked respectable.  Then, this morning, I am assembling the massive array of products necessary to achieve that somewhat acceptable look and wondering what happened.  At what point did my routine go from a little wisp here and there to the following:  1.  scrub face with industrial strength cleanser containing crushed lava rock to shock the skin cells and capillaries back to life.  2:  slather gobs of expensive rehydrating cream all over my face and watch the cells suck it in like unprimed drywall.  3:  Scan the entire surface of my face with a magnifying mirror to remove hair growth in unwanted places such as the middle of my forehead, upper lip, chin, nose and any other bizarre locations the hair has decided to grow on my face.  4:  apply cover up to the various patches of skin that can't remember that I am caucasian and should not have dark brown patches of skin on my face.  5:  Now that I have shaded the brown patches to match the rest of my face, I apply an all over cover up to change that color from something resembling a rotting corpse to something more in the range of a living, breathing person.  Now that the basic canvas has been created I can apply some color to my eyelids, a touch of pink to my cheeks, and attempt to make eyelashes that look more like the 5th day of beard stubble, appear instead to be long and wispy by applying overpriced mascara.(I don't think I have really perfected this process yet.)  That being done, I now color in the eyebrows that are barely exist due to the fact that the eyebrow hairs have forgotten where they are supposed to grow and have appeared in other, less desirable places on my face, thereby necessitating their removal in item #3 above.  At last, I have managed to apply, through the gift of modern cosmetology, a face that somewhat resembles a living human being.  Now, I carefully shellac the whole thing with a little sealing powder to assure it remains in place for at least half the day.  I smooth on a bit of lipstick for color (it will be gone in 2 minutes when I remember that half finished diet coke on the counter and I go in and finish it) and stand in front the mirror to give my stamp of approval.  Sadly, as I stand and stare at the thing I have created, all I can think is, "who is that old lady in my mirror......oh ya, I have a bunch of episodes of Hot in Cleveland on the DVR I need to watch,  where is my watch?, what time is it......................

Crappy ending to a great vacation.

Today the vacation was over, and it was a crappy ending to be sure.  Not because the fishing was bad.  Not because the weather was bad.  Not because the company was bad.  No, it all had to do with buying a new RV less than 24 hours before we left.  But, let me go back to the beginning.

For 56 days Jays has been working 12 hours a day, seven days a week.  Every night when he went to bed he would dream of spending 12 hours a day, seven days a week on the lake casting his line and reeling in the fish.  He would have visions of sitting around a quiet campfire after dark and sipping on his coke.  Finally the time has come.  He has made the long journey home, all the preparations are made for us to leave when he notices that the fiberglass shell on our RV has started to delaminate.  Now, you have to understand that we have had nothing but problems with this RV since we bought it 4 years ago and this was the last straw.  We drove straight to the dealer to discuss this issue and before we left, we had traded it in for a much better model.  But, it was after 5 and we couldn't get the paperwork done until the next day.  So, Jay and the boys left at 5 a.m. and went to Henry's with the boat, whilst Kate and I stayed behind to tie up the paperwork, move all our junk from the old RV to the new RV and then I pulled it up to Henry's.  This is where the trouble began.  First, let me say, that the dealership had the RV in their shop for 3 hours to make sure it was "customer ready".  Riiiight.  Upon arriving at the campsite and getting it all set, I attempted to fill the water tank, but instead heard water gushing from the drain valve.  The cap was missing.  When I contacted the service manager, he apologized and explained that sometimes they vibrate off, but we could get a replacement at the local hardware store....tomorrow morning.  Since we really needed water now, that was a problem.  It was against the rules, but we had no choice, so we connected our hose to the community water pipe, just until morning.  Now, Jay was filthy and hot and just wanted to take a shower.  But, now the water heater would not light.  Once again I called the service manager.  He explained that maybe (sometime during that 3 hours it was being made "customer ready") they had forgotten to close the water heater bypass valve when they dewinterized it.  Wow!  Shouldn't that have been the first thing on the "customer ready" checklist?  But, sure enough, after taking off the access panel, we discovered the bypass valve had not been moved to the summer position, so we moved it.  The pump came on and began to fill the water heater, but unfortunately, we heard water gushing outside and ran out to discover water pouring from the water heater compartment door on the outside.  I quickly shut off the pump and we opened the compartment door.  Good news, we found the cap for the fresh water tank drain.  Bad news, the plug for the water heater drain was missing and the water was just pouring out.  Upon closer inspection, Jay discovered that the water heater element had not been screwed in to the water heater, also a major part of the dewinterization, "customer ready" process that they supposedly spent 3 hours doing.  Jay screwed in the element, we turned on the pump, and the water heater began to fill.  But, the element was leaking because it needed plumber's tape on the seal.  This required a quick trip (5 miles) in to town to try to find plumbers tape.  Luckily, we did find some.  Returned to the campground, and as Jay unscrewed the water heater element to install the plumbers tape.....you guessed it......water gushed out of the hole and drenched us both.  Plumber's tape installed, water heater element screwed in, water heater filled, and at last!  Hot water!  Now, from here forward, all went as planned and the vacation was great.  Fish aplenty, weather was great, slept like babies.  Now it's time to go home.  The RV is ready.  Everything is locked down.  It's hitched up and we are headed for the dump station.  Jay dons his industrial grade rubber sewage gloves, squats down by the dump valve, turns the cap to remove it so he can attach the sewer dump hose, when.....WHOOSH!......he is slaughtered by a gushing stream of poop!  Yes, the genius's at the RV dealership, who spent 3 hours getting our RV "customer ready" had neglected to close the dump valves on the unit and Jay got sprayed by poop!  Thus, the "crappy" ending to an otherwise wonderful vacation.  To see him fly out of the way, and see me shouting 'HOLY CRAP!"  (literally) was indeed a sight to behold.  It's a good thing we had 2 hours to drive before we could get to the RV dealership, or I think they would have found our brand new RV backed right through their big, plate glass, front windows.

Jay, bless his heart, took it all on the chin.  We actually laughed about it later.  But, it was a typical Shaw Family Adventure to be sure.  Like he pointed out, at least we didn't wreck the RV this time out.  (Knock on wood.)

My Children, my friends

Time has a way of taking everything it touches and molding it like play dough.  To time, nothing is rigid or solid, but everything is soft and pliable and can be, and most often, will be changed and transformed into something different.  I spent the evening yesterday with my grandchildren.  I watched them  play in the backyard.  I heard them giggle as they tried to ride Tater like a pony.  I watched them argue over who's turn it was to swing in the hammock chair.  I followed little one year old Lincoln as he toddled around the backyard and squealed at the chickens and played with the dogs.  It was all so precious and delightful.  I caught myself slipping back in time and remembering those days long ago when my own children were just like them.  They would run through the water on the front lawn when we irrigated the grass.  They would chase each other around with BB guns.  They would see Mike Marshall drive in the yard to feed the cows and off they would go.  It was usually Kate and Steve running as fast as their little legs would carry them out to the haystack so they could "help" Mike feed the cows.  I remember Scott and his friend, Jake Bowen, cleaning the hen house for a few dollars.  Paul and Zach climbing the trees.  Brad, well, bless his heart, he was probably doing the dishes.  As I wandered down memory lane I wondered where my babies had gone.  What terrible thing had time done to take them and those wonderful, seemingly carefree days away?  Then I realized that time had done what it does best and molded things and changed them in to something new and now instead of children,  time had given me friends.  For my children have become my best friends.  After all the years of diapers, bottles, nose wiping, boo boo kissing, chauffering, cooking, cleaning, teaching and loving, time had increased my investment by a thousand fold.  Now I have friends who will come at the drop of a hat (or the key stroke of a text message) to help me do even the simplest things, like hold me up against the wall so I can hang a picture above the stairs.  They travel with me so I am not alone.  They invite to go on special lunches with their daughters and convince me that everything is more fun with Grandma along.  They cut my weeds, haul my dirt, care for my livestock so I can travel whenever I please.  They go on midnight pancake runs and bring me frozen yogurt.  Best of all, they share the next generation of future friends with me.  Someday, I hope to look at those precious little grandchildren as they become adults and appreciate how time has molded them into a new group of friends to keep me company.

Retraction

You know how the other day I said, "We'll never be too old for adventure, and we will never be beaten by Mother Nature."? Well, I think She heard me and like any good Mother, She set out to prove me wrong. When my boys were small, I used to put on my angry face and tell them, "you may grow up to be bigger than me someday, but just remember this, you will never be meaner. " Then I would pray they never tested me on it because everyone knows, the truth of the matter is, a fluffy white bunny looks like a vicious killer next to me. I learned very quickly, though, that Mother Nature does not rely on the art of intimidation. She is true to her word. And so, I offer a modification to my previous claim based on the adventure de' jour.

We checked the weather report and learned, it's unreliable. But based on the report we received, and due to the encouragement of my son, we decided on this: Jay's last day before heading out to the red sands of the North African desert, we would take the Jane Louise and test her out on the waters of the American Falls reservoir. I grew a little anxious as the winds started to increase, but driving along in the shelter of the cab of the truck, they didn't seem too bad. As we pulled in to Seagull Bay to launch, the dock master met us and talked to us about the best places to fish. I think my concern started to increase about the time he told us to watch the weather and the waves, gave us his phone number, and told us where to beach the boat and wait for the sheriff's department to rescue us. But, we launched anyway and headed out. As we were motoring into the main reservoir at high speed and the boat started to bounce sideways, I started to hyperventilate. I hung on for dear life and thought to myself, "I don't think we are supposed to fly three feet in the air and bounce across the lake from wave to wave." When my kamikaze, 32 year old, little brat, son said, "it's not that bad, let's troll awhile." I think I actually shouted, "shut up!" but no one could hear me over the crashing waves. When the rolling swells started to splash over the side of the boat, I put on my life jacket and thought, "at least they will be able to find my floating body." Now, I'm not sure what it was that made Lieutenant Dan and Forrest Gump decide maybe we should get off the lake. It could have been the fact that I had left indented finger marks in the dashboard where I was hanging on. It could have been my continual mumbling, "please God, don't let me die today." It could have been concern over whether they would be able to pull the seat cushion out of my butt cheeks if they didn't leave soon. Whatever it was, I couldn't have been happier. Once we had the boat on the trailer, safe from the icy depths of that hideous reservoir, I knew I would have to rescind my previous claims and say instead, "we will never be too old for most adventures, and we have a deep respect for Mother Nature." So, tomorrow my partner in craziness will make his trek across the North Atlantic and then the Mediterrean Sea, all from the safe confines of a large airplane, and for the next 56 days I will try to rest and prepare until we do it all over again.

Portrait of a die hard fisherman.

The sky was dark and ominous with howling winds and snow clouds threatening to burst. He looked out the window and eyed the horizon, first East and then West. "I think I see a little patch a blue sky to the East." He said. "I think it'll be okay, I'm going to hitch up the boat." With a sigh she donned her sweatshirt, thermal underwear, hooded parka, knit cap, and insulated gloves. She filled the thermos with piping hot chocolate, made two sandwiches, and popped her camera into the plastic carrier to protect it and off they went. They relentlessly trolled the boiling, dark green waters as she faithfully watched the fish finder searching desperately for the elusive trout in the depths of those cold waters. Meanwhile, he set up his poles, first one lure, then another, then another. They trolled to the East, then the West, then the North then the South. The winds blew harder, but still they trolled. The rain came down, but still they trolled. He climbed onto the front of the boat and took control with the little putting trolling motor and he crawled along the shoreline. They trolled up and down the narrow confines of the infamous "Kenny's Cove", the last place he caught a fish. At last he motored carefully up to a floating dock and tied the boat to the dock. For just a moment they enjoyed a sandwich and hot chocolate while the wind howled through the open door on the windshield. He then threw out a sinking Rapalla. He snagged up and he was forced to break it off. "Shoot" he cried, "there goes seven dollars." He reeled in that pole and threw out another. It snagged on the rocks. "There goes six dollars." he shouted above the storm. "Thirteen dollars, gone in 10 minutes." He quickly tied on another lure and cast it towards the shore. Success at last! She jumped from her seat and ran for the net to scoop up the catch of the day. But, too late, he already had the little Cutthroat in the boat. They smiled at each other like a pair of fools, and he quickly returned the slimy creature to the depths. As he threw his lure into the water again, the storms came in earnest. The wind blew harder and the clouds opened up and dumped the snow. It had been five hours and he had caught a fish. It was enough. Quickly he stowed his poles and they motored for the docks. The snow collected on the windshield and filled the skies. He could barely find the docks through the storm. He finally reached the shore and jumped to the dock. She idled in the torrent until he had the trailer in the lapping waves. With great trepidation she wiped the snow from the windshield so she could see and carefully guided the boat to safety aboard the trailer. At last it was secure and with shaking hands and shivering teeth she hopped into the truck and they headed back home. As the heater blasted them back to normal temperature, they looked at each other and laughed out loud. "We will never be too old for adventure, and we will never be beaten by Mother Nature."

And so the choice is made

A couple of months ago I had a post entitled "fork in the road". On that day I found myself standing at a fork and wondering which way to go. I should reveal something about myself. I don't care for change, and yet ironically, change is the only constant in this life. However, that doesn't alter the fact that I don't like it. I especially don't care for it when it is forced upon me through the actions of other people. But, there I stood all the same. Today, that choice has been made.

"One should rather die than be betrayed. There is no deceit in death. It delivers precisely what it has promised. Betrayal, though ... betrayal is the willful slaughter of hope.” Steven Deitz

Melancholy? Maybe a little, but true none the less. All my hope in the electrical industry and the politicians who have control has been slaughtered. I am betrayed by politics, money, egos, and the very career I worked so hard to aspire to. Betrayed by my own principles, ideals, values and sense of justice. In the end, the electrical industry belongs to the male gender and regardless of my efforts, skill level or commitment, I will always just be a girl trying to force my way in to the boys' club. Those who would employ me will weigh the cost of my credentials against the value they place on them and determine that I am not worth the cost. My sense of justice and decency and what is right is nothing more than a burden that I carry that holds no value with those who hold their power so dear. So, as I look down the road ahead and choose the direction I will take, I choose the path that puts the electrical industry far behind me. I am thankful for the knowledge I gained, for the time spent learning a trade, and the living it provided me when I needed it most. But, all good things must come to an end and so I choose to follow a different road. There is always more to learn and new things to try. I find I can no longer waste my energy being passionate about something that those is control have complete apathy towards. Another quote, not my words, but I share them because they speak my thoughts. "No one cares. Apathy is a disease and some days I long for it."

I think I will choose to infect myself with this disease, as it may be the only way to find peace with the bitter pain of loss and betrayal by those I served and the things I cared so much about.

I really don't mean to sound bitter or depressed, but I also tend to have the disease of speaking honestly, and that ailment often gets me into trouble sometimes too.

I try not to think of this as an ending, but just the beginning of a whole new road filled with new vistas and new adventures. And so, today I will abdicate my last foothold in the industry and resign my position with the Association of Electrical Inspectors, and tomorrow I will tear off the rear view mirror and drive top speed down a new road. I'm off!!

Spring planting update

The saga of the seeds continues. First to Mel, my beloved daughter in law, who finds comfort and fondness in the bleak, overcast days. May they gently rest upon your little plot of land. As for myself, I should have been a lizard, lying on a sunbaked rock somewhere in the dry desert sun. But, such is not the case. So, no, the rain, gray skies and particularly the wind, are not welcome guests at my house, but instead uninvited thieves who steal my smile and good nature. So, on to the seeds. My little jiffy garden is so far thriving nicely in front of the bathroom vent. Carl, the cat, has not yet turned it in to his litter box as there is a lid on top of them. I was ecstatic when I checked on them after only about 3 days and found they had begun to sprout. I figured it would be safe at this point to move them from the direct warmth of the bathroom vent and onto the top of the kitchen table. There they would still be relatively warm and their little peeking heads could drink in a small taste of sunlight. Thankfully the kitchen table is never used for the consumption of any meals, but is a mere decoration meant to give the impression that we are a civilized family.

Today, they had grown so big I decided it was time they were moved to larger accommodations, so I drove to the local nursery where I secured a plastic tray and planting cups that were way bigger than their current accommodations. For some strange reason I caught myself humming the theme song to "the Jeffersons". Movin' on up....to the East side. Anyway, I removed those little seedlings that were so very precocious as to have already outgrown their environment and carefully placed them in their new homes. I then filled in the open spaces with fresh, brown potting soil and dribbled just enough water over them to turn the dirt to a soft, spongy goo. I moved this little tray to the kitchen table to join the younger seedlings so they could offer encouragement and support. I know as I walked by, they raised their little heads and smiled a little plant smile.

Now, time to see if the other plants do as well, if the sun will ever shine, if the wind will ever quit blowing, and that long awaited day of hope when tender little seedlings can make the move outside will ever come.