Category: perception

Moving … in the cold

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Several years ago my son and his family moved to Chicago.  It was winter when they were moving back.  My son’s father-in-law was planning on driving the rented moving truck with the cat.  My son and I were to be in his car with the dogs. His wife flew back with the kids.

It was cold, very cold.  We didn’t get too far out from Chicago before we stopped for the night as the weather wasn’t so good.  We’re all from snow states so we’re used to nasty winter weather.

The first morning, the rental truck wouldn’t start.  We called the company to send someone out to get it started for us.

I can’t remember what day it was or how far into our travels, however … once we were in the middle of nowhere, the transmission in the rental truck started acting up.  We saw a gas station at an exit.  We parked in the lot of an abandoned restaurant, next to the gas station.  We called the company again.  Since we were in the middle of nowhere, they said it would take awhile to get someone out to us with a replacement truck and crew to switch out the contents.  

In the meantime, it was 6° outside so we sat in the vehicles, heaters on.  Thankfully the rental truck only had transmission troubles and not engine troubles so that the heater could run.

Every once in a while, one of us would run into the gas station for a hot drink or a snack.  I’m not a coffee drinker so I’d get hot chocolate.  It’s usually not my favorite yet this day, it was perfect.  My first cup was way too hot to drink so I set it outside for a minute (it may have been a bit longer than a minute).  When I got it, it was no longer hot, in fact it was barely warm. 
From then on, when I’d get my hot chocolate, I’d only leave it on the ground outside, for a moment.  

It took over 5 hours for the tow truck to come.  Instead of waiting for the rental truck company to  swap out trucks, he told us to stick the keys of the wounded truck, under the mat and he’d come back for it.  Thirty to forty five minutes later, the rental truck company guys came to swap out the contents of the truck.  

It’s funny how sitting around for hours, with nowhere to go can feel like such a long day.  I couldn’t have more grateful for this trip. My heart was so full that I got to spend 24/7 days with my youngest son. As they grow up and work long hours and are busy with kids, I don’t get many opportunities like this. It may not have been the ideal trip, but it was ideal to my heart. My son even teased that I sabotaged the rental truck so that I could spend more time with him. Ha ha

My first cold, winter move was New Years Eve 1983.  Snowy and with our six month old baby.  It seems like we move when it’s time to move, without planning for weather.

When I’m smelly

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I’ve mentioned this before, years ago I rescued 3 feral cats. One of them got diabetes and passed at 9 years old. She was queen bee of these cats. (The other two lived to be 15 and 16 yrs old.)

She had so much personality. She played fetch and I was shocked how quickly she learned it. As sweet and playful as she was, she was equally as disgusted by the other cats and myself at times. After all, she was a cat. 

When I would get gassy, she would look at me with such disgust. I could imagine what she was thinking by the tone of her look:

  • You disgusting human
  • Go in the other room, you smell;
  • What do you eat?
  • Did your mother not teach you anything?
  • If you know that makes you smell, don’t eat it;
  • I love you but geez;
  • I tried to escape but I could smell you in the other room too;
  • OMG, it’s in my nose so it’s with me no matter where I go;

You get what I’m saying. This sweet little cat would just continue to look at me with disgust until the air was clear. Ha ha ha

When I was a kid I needed ouchless ….

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I shouldn’t admit this but for the sake of this bit, here goes ….

When I was a kid they didn’t have the ouchless band-aids yet.  I never let my mom rip my band-aid off and I never took it off myself. If my mom tried to take it off I would cry bloody murder, as though she was coming towards me with a machete.

Yes, I was one of those kids that would have a dangling band-aid rather than the momentary not-quite pain of ripping it off.  At times I would cut the dangling parts off.  I’d wind up with the tiniest little bit of band-aid still attached. 

Who knows where that fear of ripping it off came from.  In the summer I now have all sorts of band-aid less wounds when I’m out in the mountains roughing it. Yet, when I hear the term, “Just rip the band-aid off”, yikes do I empathize. 

I’m over 60 yrs old and well …. still use band-aids until I’m sure I don’t need it anymore.  The other day I cut myself with a knife.  It wasn’t a bad cut.  It looked and felt like a paper cut.  My point is that in that sliver of cut there is a teeny-tiny flap of skin that catches on fabric and THAT is the part that hurts.  It’s ok.  I roll my eyes at myself sometimes too.  Ok, a lot.

Yesterday I thought was the last day of having a band-aid on the cut. Last night I …. “Ouch” …. caught that bit of skin on my clothes.  I looked at my hand and thought, “How can that be”?  I see my band-aid,  I then realized that I had the band-aid on the wrong finger.   

Argh!  Ugh!  Thank goodness I can laugh at myself, and often!  

Skin Care

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About 25 years ago I was at a friend’s moms house.  I was at the counter talking with her while she was in the kitchen. 

She was about 65 years old at the time and I was in my 30’s.  We had a unique relationship as her kids knew not to talk back to her or challenge her.  I think we got along so well because, well being sassy is kind of, in my nature.  

She started raving about this new hand lotion that she got.  She said that it was a bit gritty and took awhile to soak into the skin but after it did, her skin was so smooth and soft.  


The container was on the counter.  I looked at it and began laughing hysterically.  I told her that it wasn’t hand lotion after all but a facial scrub.  

I teased teased her about it for years.  It’s one of those things we do that we’ll never hear the end of it.  This is one of those memories that makes me chuckle every time I think about it.  

My internal auto-correct

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As with most people, auto-correct is often frustrating.  For years I’ve had an internal auto-correct that would take over control of my hand when I’m writing.

I’ve been sending Happy New Year cards instead of holiday cards.  It’s unique and it used to be unexpected.

My last name is Christianson.  Years ago when I’d write Christmas cards, my inner auto-correct would take over about half way though my card list.  Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christmas, Merry Christianson.  I would have several Merry Christianson’s before I’d catch myself.  I even stopped sealing envelopes until I was sure that they all said Merry Christmas instead of a few Merry Christianson’s tossed in there.

Year’s ago when I wrote checks for everything (pre-debit cards), my auto-correct would kick in on the day of my birthday.  Every year without fail I would write a check on my birthday and it would be xx-xx-61 instead of the actual year.  It was so automatic that I would do my best to avoid writing checks on my birthday.

However you celebrate, whatever you celebrate, if you celebrate, I wish you and your love ones a safe, happy and loving season.  

Vague memories with warm fuzzies

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When I was in kindergarten so very many years ago, I would leave morning kindergarten and be walked across a street to a house where I would eat lunch.  I say where I would eat lunch because that is the only thing I remember doing there.  I do not remember the babysitter, just her hands.

I can remember sitting for lunch.  The babysitter would hand me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  When I was done she would mix a little milk with some Nestle’ Quik and it would make a creamy, chocolate frosting.  She would slather it on a graham cracker and hand that to me.

Every time I see a movie, show or commercial with a graham cracker and /or cookie with a creamy chocolate frosting I get warm fuzzies and think of this babysitter but not really her, just her hands.

I love how the simplest thing can bring back warm memories.

Taking my own advise … or not

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I was an over-protective mother to my boys.  I have no idea how many times I’ve said, “Look both ways for cars; keep your head up when you walk; don’t talk to strangers; check in and don’t be lured by someone offering a reward to help look for a puppy; etc”.

About 12 years ago I went car shopping.  I was talking to the only salesperson at a small car lot.  He seemed a little … different but we are all a bit different to someone, right?.?   

At some point this salesperson mentioned there were puppies in a shed in the back.  Now if this were a movie, I’d be thinking, “Only in a movie”.  As the person was walking to the shed, I’d be saying, “Don’t you watch movies?”  “Leave now, RUN!”  Nope, I did it, I went into the shed to see the puppies.  I seemed to have lost all sense of reality and was memorized by the thought of seeing puppies.  

I came to my senses and left there.  What on earth was I thinking?  Thank goodness this car lot was on the corner of two very busy streets.  

Memories of holidays past … 1 of ?

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One year for Christmas I was giving my 12 year old son my acoustic guitar, which my father gave to me when I was 12 years old.  

A guitar is a pretty large present to wrap so I decided to create a scavenger hunt of sorts.  I had a large box (filled with newspapers for weight).  That box had a note where to find his gift.  

For weeks he would ask, “What’s in the box?” and I’d say,  “It’s just newspaper”.  I had fun with it but unfortunately on Christmas morning when he opened the box, he was not amused.  He was although thrilled to get the guitar.   

One other Christmas I created a scavenger hunt; he didn’t like that either.

Neither him nor I could play that guitar.  We could do little bits but couldn’t grasp it, even with lessons.  We can both sing though.  Years later, he gave his younger brother the guitar.  His younger brother self-taught himself to play the acoustic; bass and electric guitar but has trouble carrying a tune when he sings.  We all have our gifts and talents. 

Hosting my First Thanksgiving and then some …

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This morning I was thinking about Thanksgivings of my past. Thank goodness our challenges are funnier in hind-sight.

The first couple of years that my husband and I were married, we had Thanksgiving with either my parents or his. Then I wanted to host Thanksgiving at our house. Our first born was a little guy so this was a very long time ago. I was excited and had my butterball turkey ready to go. These bigger turkeys cook for hours anyway but as the day progressed into evening and the turkey still wasn’t done, we began to believe that the oven was broken.

At closer look, I had cleaned the knobs on the stove and replaced them upside down. The turkey had been in a 250 degree oven for almost 10 hours. Ugh my first Thanksgiving feast felt like a disaster. Many years later. My eldest son and his fiancé were hosting their first Thanksgiving dinner. She was a bit defensive, emotional and … competitive.

She asked me to make the stuffing because by this time I had perfected stuffing and my boys loved my stuffing enough to brag about it. Over at their home, I was given a double box of stuffing and was asked to make one. Stuffing is stuffing right? It’s kind of hard to destroy boxed stuffing.

… or so I thought. My stuffing came out just as presumed that it would. My son’s fiancé made the second box of the double box of stuffing. She looked at mine and looked at hers and had a melt down. Hers looked like … baby poo.

I tried to reassure her that everyone’s first time hosting a Thanksgiving dinner, something doesn’t turn out right. And of course, these are the times that we reminisce and laugh a about for the rest of our lives. I am so grateful that we have these memories and can laught about them.

It packs a Punch!

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There are things like n life that there’s just not much we can say or do about it but shake our heads and laugh.

Many years ago I went to work with a black eye. A co-worker asked me what happened and I replied that I got punched. She gasped and asked who punched me. …. I told her that I did.

About every 15 years or so my hand slips while I’m pulling up my covers and BAM … I punch myself in the face.

Honey, Dear, Sweetheart …

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When I was in my late 20’s and early 30’s I worked in the office at a private golf club. The majority of members I interacted with were 20 – 30 years older than I was.

So many of the women would call me honey, dear, sweetheart, etc. Not all of them were kind women and I didn’t get why so many of them used those terms.

Then the strangest thing happened. As I turned 50 years old, all of a sudden and without warning or provocation I started calling everyone honey, dear and sweetheart. Eeek I became one of them.

This is common for me now, regardless of the person’s age, or the situation. It comes out of my mouth as unconsciously as my breath.

Hostage Dog

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In the early 1990’s I saw a large dog roaming our neighborhood. This was concerning because we were/are pet lovers, had five of our own fur babies and years earlier out dogs got out of the yard when we weren’t home.

I got a long rope and got the dog to come to me. I tied it up in front of our house so hopefully its owner would see it. I gave the dog bowl of water, a couple of gnawing toys and of course a couple of biscuits.

I also looked at the dog’s tag. There was no phone number but the rabies tag was from the same vet that we took our animals to. I called the vet and with the rabies number they were able to give me the owner’s phone number.

I called the owner, told him who I was and that his dog was roaming our neighborhood and that I I had his dog tied up in our front yard. With an angry tone, the man said, “No you don’t! My dog is in my yard”! I asked him to go look because … I had his dog. He got back on the phone, very angry now and asked who I was and what I wanted. I told him who I was, where I lived and again, that his dog was wondering around our neighborhood and I tied it up in our yard so that he’d find it safe and sound.

This conversation lasted much longer than I ever thought it would. This man was convinced that I was holding his dog hostage because I wanted something from him. I finally told him to come get his dog and I wouldn’t even come out of the house so he doesn’t have to interact with me.

Yikes … someone had a guilty conscience.

The silver lining

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I love movies and have for a long time. When my boys were young there were movies we’d watch over and over and never grow tired of them. I’m still that way. I love the movies that surprise me at the end like Sixth Sense, The Others and Shutter Island. I love the romantic comedies, tear-jerkers and a good drama. I love the Pixar and Dream Works type animated movies, especially the ones that make me laugh. I am a sucker for sappy romance movies too.

I’m grateful that during many challenging times throughout my life, I’ve found the silver lining. Sometimes it’s not some ah-ha moment, divine wisdom or a sense of grateful lesson but a gift within the challenge.

My TBI was at the end of 2003. During 2008 and 2009 was by far the most challenging time of my decreased cognition. My short term memory was … well, very short. Some … well quite a bit of my long term memory wasn’t so good either.

The most entertaining silver lining as a result of my TBI came during 2008 and 2009 when my cognition was at it’s worst. I could watch movies over and over again and not remember a thing. Even the movies I had on VHS that I had watched for years became new again. It was fabulous! The only one I didn’t like was City of Angels because every time, the ending would rip my heart out and each time, I never saw it coming.

I am grateful for all the silver linings that I’ve been fortunate enough to recognize.

Moments in the life of a sarcastic family

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In 2018 my mom took her kids on a vacation (yes, me included). It was rare to have all of her kids in one setting and for a week to boot. I’m the youngest (58 at the time), my elder brother, ten years older than me with two in between.

We found that we all have the exact same sarcastic sense of humor. The teasing and bantering was a blast. There was also plenty of quality one on one time with each other that we hadn’t had in years.

One evening I was having a heart-to-heart with my eldest brother. His wife had passed four years earlier and I asked him if he was interested in getting married. I should have rephrased the question as, “Are you interested in remarrying again?” … or something like that.

The next day while we were all having lunch together my elder brother announced to everyone at the table that a woman was coming on to him the evening before. There were comments by everyone as to who this interested mystery woman was.

My other brother made a snide comment, “Was it Sarah?” My elder brother replied, “Yes, she asked me if I wanted to marry her.” Ugh.

More technology changes – Batman

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In 1989 the Batman movie with Michael Keaton was released. How obsessed was I with this movie? Well, when all the hype was over, my husband surprised me with the life-sized cardboard Batman that he had bought from the video rental store. I loved the Batmobile too! I thought it was simply the coolest car on earth (at the time).

The same year as the movie release there was a Roadster Show in town. I had never been to one of the Roadster shows before or had even been interested in going however … THE Batmobile was going to be there. I wanted to see that car!

A friend of mine went with me. I was so excited and as we walked around searching for it, my excitement grew. Then I saw it! There it was! I walked around it and looked at every inch of it, oozing with admiration. The guy working at the booth came up, hovered and made small talk.

In the movie the car had this very cool ‘protective shield’ that covered the windshield to make the car more secure. That was one of the things I wanted to see most on this car. I was looking closely to see where this gadget was hidden and how did it come out to cover the windshield. I asked the guy hovering over us where it is and could I see it work.

I’m a pretty intelligent person however, this guy looked at me like I was an idiot. He said, “This is just a car. It can’t do that. It was all movie technology”. He did it, he burst my bubble. I was crushed, like a kid walking up to a closed candy store.

As we were walking away he shouted to me, “There’s no Santa Claus either”. Ugh. Now, years later, I laugh every time I think about it. That technology was a big deal back then. Think of the difference between 70’s and 80’s Disney movies and technology in movies today.

My how technology has changed

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As you can tell from the title, I’m about to date myself. That’s okay, I’ve never been one to mind aging.

Although I worked on computers at work (starting with the dos age), I got my first home computer in 1994. I had been traveling for work and they handed me a laptop. That was fun. And yes, that last comment smells of sarcasm. I became very proficient, very quickly because loosing reports was not pleasant.

My first home computer was a Gateway. I believe it was 75 MHz and 256 mg hard drive. Not much by todays standards but it was top notch at the time. I remember one time when I was on the phone with tech support. The guy I was talking to had worked on computers years before in the military.

At one point we were talking about hard drive capacity. He said he believed that one day computers would have a gig hard drive. I can remember thinking how ridiculous that was. Now I have a tiny 2 TB thumb drive.

I am constantly in awe of technology and what my little smart phone can do. Little in comparison to that old computer I had.

Hummus, hummus everywhere

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I was getting ready to sit and watch a movie. I made a nice batch of hummus and chopped up some veggies because, well movies and snacking go hand-in-hand.

Have I mentioned before that I’m a bit clutsy? I know I’ve mentioned that I tend to laugh vs get upset over spilt … whatever.

Well, last night I was walking from the kitchen to the TV room, minding my own business when out of the blue some cosmic force allowed the bowl of hummus to slip out of my hand and directly onto the floor. I must’ve had too much moisture in my hummus because it splattered everywhere. The more I looked, the more I saw.

I hope you’re able to watch this video as, this post needs a visual.

https://videopress.com/v/nhojnw5H?controls=false&preloadContent=metadata

Yonder Firpiece?

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I grew up in Colorado and then moved to Idaho. My folks were born and raised in New York City and New York is where most of my relatives lived for much of my life. Other than occasionally on TV, New York accents were about the only accents I was really accustomed to hearing.

In the mid-90’s I was part of a team who was working on a project that primarily took place in Nashville. There were eight of us on this team, all from different offices within the Company. I was the only one who did not live in the South, two of them were from the Nashville area. I had been to that office a couple of times and over the years had been on the phone with some of my Nashville co-workers.

Our first day in Nashville to begin work on this project, we took a lunch break and it was decided that I would drive to where we were going to eat. I don’t know why I was the one driving since clearly I was not a local. This lunch outing would truly be my first introduction to the southern language. Most of these gals had as much fun with sarcasm as I have so … you can imagine the fun we had understanding each other. There were 5 of us who went to lunch that day.

I was guided to turn onto a road and then told to go ‘yonder firpiece’. For the first time in my interactions with my Nashville co-workers, I really felt like they were speaking a different language. I first asked how far ‘yonder is’. I would think that at least one of them would know how far ‘yonder’ is but I could not get a clear answer. I could let that go because from time to time we all say something like, go that way for a bit, a ways, etc but … what is a firpiece? When I questioned the definition of a firpiece’, we all laughed so hard I thought I’d have to pull over.

I can tell you that the only answer I got was that ‘firpiece’ is actually, ‘for a piece’. When we got to the restaurant it was a BBQ diner. I’m not a big BBQ fan but hey, when in Rome. I looked at the menu and had a tough time figuring out what to order. I wanted some basics since I was unfamiliar with most of the items listed. (I never imagined how different our foods were.) I ordered pork, corn bread, beans and hominy. When my plate was ready there was shredded meat, a pancake, bbq beans and the hominy. I went back to the ordering counter and told the gal that I got a pancake (I’m not fond of pancakes) instead of corn bread. … you guessed it, that was my corn bread.

One time in a restaurant the waitress asked me if I wanted a ‘coke’. I asked if that was the only ‘pop’ they had. She looked as stumped as I had felt on the drive to the BBQ diner. She said we have coke or water or sweet tea. I thought it was odd that they only carried coke. When the laughter at the table subsided I learned that ‘coke’ was the term for any soft drink just like the word ‘pop’ is to me.

I loved these gals and we worked together on this project for about a year and a half. I can’t tell you the numbers of times we teased and laughed about the differences in our food and language.

The older we get…

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Isn’t it amazing how regardless how old we are, our grown children don’t seem to age. My oldest by is getting close to 40 years old. That’s amazing to me because for many years I haven’t felt older than 35 years old. Over the last couple of years I see myself aging, I’m feeling more like … 45 years old now.

When I think of the age of my boys I’m truly amazed. Funnier yet (to me), when dreaming they are still little boys. When I see them, I still see my ‘boys’. It’s difficult to change the dialog to men, even though they’ve been men for a long time now.

When I see anyone close to the age of my boys, I think of them as kids. I wasn’t so appreciative of older adults calling me a kid when I was 30, 35 and 40 years old. I sure understand it now.

Sounds that ignite our imagination

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Many years ago I woke up during the night. I’m not sure what woke me. It could have been one of the pets, a tree limb or any number of things.

I laid there (on my side) in my semi-conscious state as I began drifting back to sleep. What a peaceful space to be in.

Snuggling unconsciously into my pillow and all of a sudden … I hear heavy, slow moving footsteps coming down the hallway towards my bedroom. I was on the side of the bed closest to the door.

Could I get off the bed, to the other side and onto the floor without making a sound? I’ve imagined before what I’d do if someone came in during the night but reality turns out to be much different.

I held my breath and listened. The footsteps stopped. I breathe quietly again and the footsteps resume. Panic begins to set in. The footsteps get heavier as my breathing gets harder.

Again, I hold my breath to listen and the footsteps stop. I blink and just then I realize … there are no footsteps. My eyelashes were hitting the pillow.

Who knows best? Apparently not me

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Many years ago, my chosen daughter wanted to go horseback riding for her 12th Birthday. She had never been on a horse and I thought it would be great to grant her wish.

When I was young, living in the mountains we had a horse and a couple of ponies. I had also rode a friend’s horse after high school (that didn’t go so well). Even though it has been many years since I had ridden, I felt confident that it would all come back to me.

I chose a tourist riding company because I figured they would have calmer horses, unlike my friend’s horse. When we got there, it was exactly what I had hoped for.

They chose a sweet mare for my chosen daughter and a large male for me. She was in front of me and they told me not to let him get to close to the mare. There were about 12 of us all together who would be riding through an area behind the Garden of the Gods in Colorado Springs (which is hilly and rocky).

As we went along the trail it became obvious that these horses did this every day, possibly several times a day. As we’d come up on a bush that I didn’t want to be brushed against, I’d tell the horse to move over (gently using the reins, of course). When I would do this, my horse would stop, turn his head to look at me as if to say, “I do this every day and know what I’m doing, you just sit there”. When he was confident that I got the message, he would continue on. The first time he did it, I thought it was funny. The fourth or fifth time I couldn’t believe it. I gave up after that because he wouldn’t do what I asked anyway.

I laugh about the look on that horse’s face, every time I think about it.

Bees and other flyers

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When I was a kid, well and way into my adult-hood, I was terrified of bees and other flying creatures.

I didn’t like butterflies because they seemed as confused as moths and would flitter about aimlessly. I couldn’t dodge them because I didn’t know which way they’d be going.

I especially didn’t like bees. I was terrified of them. When I was five years old we were on a camping trip. My older brother and I were exploring and found an old ticket booth. As he opened it up we were surrounded by bees. He was stung mercilessly while I only got a few stings but one that would forever remind me. I had a little crevice in my nose for most of my life from one of those stings. (I think it finally went away about 15 years ago.)

My fear of bees was a source of entertainment for all who witnessed it. When I’d work in the flowerbeds, if a bee came I’d run as fast as I could, flailing my arms like a mad women. The elderly couple across the street loved it. I had other similar occasions where people would see me screaming and running; at picnics, in parks, etc. I’ve seen adults and kids alike, laughing hysterically at the sight.

In late 2003 I had a TBI. One of the very incredible things to come from that was that I no longer had any fear of bees or other flying creatures.

In 2005 I went into a butterfly hutch and was surrounded by thousands of butterflies, I was amazed by them.

I realized I no longer had a fear of bees when I went with my mother to a lavender farm to cut fresh lavender. I was squatting on the ground clipping and realized that I had bees buzzing all around me and I was fine.

I now have a tree not far from our front door. This time of year, as I walk by it, all I can hear is the beautiful hum, the buzzing of many bees on the blossoms and I feel a sense of awe throughout my being.

The difference? The TBI slowed me down and reconnected me to nature in a way that I hadn’t been since I was a child, living in the mountains of Colorado.

A childs point of view

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When I was young, I had an aunt that lived about 90 miles from us. We would go visit from time to time and occasionally I got to spend a week here and there with her during the summer.

Every night before bedtime, she would have a big bowl of ice cream over a chopped banana. This was one of my favorite things during my overnight visits.

I wound up moving almost a thousand miles away. Years later she downsized and moved to my hometown. About the time I was approaching 40 yrs old, I moved back so I was able to see her and spend more time with her again. Within a year of moving back, she passed. I bought her home from my cousin with everything in it (including a dog; a cat; and her grandson).

Soon after moving into the home, I opened one of the cupboards and saw a stack of bowls. They were the bowls that she used for ice cream and bananas when I was a kid. My heart was full of warm-fuzzies but I also had a laugh because those bowls were not nearly as big as I remember them being. In fact they weren’t big at all.