Ode To Big Hill

There was a special place that barely exists anymore. A place I hold fondly in my heart as do most of the people who grew up in my neighborhood. Big Hill was, well, a big hill. We were kids, and perhaps not very creative, but the name described it perfectly. Some years ago, I wrote a poem about the significance of Big Hill. It Describes that special place better than I can even attempt to write about in a blog, and it actually brought tears to many who loved Big Hill as I did. So Without Further Ado, here is the poem.....

Big Hill

Big Hill.
A place where children could capture
butterflies, fireflies,
and incense.
A place for imagination, wonder,
and fantasy.
A climb to the top of Big Hill was a feat
like that of a mountain climber.
Summer time picnics,
winter time sledding.
Neighborhood friends playing
Capture the Flag and King of the Hill.
A place where we really were
on top of the world.

A peaceful place where catching a glimpse
of an occasional deer was
not uncommon.
A time when our only worry was
making it home for dinner on time.
The sounds of our youthful laughter
still audible even today.
A place where innocence was found
and also lost.
Big Hill.

As we grew taller,
Big Hill grew smaller.
Today, barely visible only
to those of us who knew of its existence.
A minuscule mound covered with trees
and memories.
Big Hill.
The symbol of my childhood.
Vanishing more and more
every year.
Eventually, not existing
at all.

9/8/03

Birthday Blahs

Every year I Hate it more and more. And I just don't hate it, I Hate it. With a Capital H. Hate. Its still a bit more than a month away, but I am already dreading my Birthday.

I am trying to remember when it all started, when this sour taste entered my mouth when I uttered the words "my Birthday". I can't quite put my finger on it, but am thinking it was probably when I turned 26.

Age 25 is the final exciting Birthday. Its the Birthday when, in my opinion (and the opinion of a Bingo fanatic coworker), a person reaches full adulthood. Coincidentally, it is also the Birthday that your car insurance decreases provided you don't have preexisting DUIs, speeding tickets and the like. So after 25, there is nothing more to look forward to. What good comes from the other "milestone" Birthdays other than to say you have been alive that long?

This year, like most people on their Birthday, I will be turning another year older. No Milestone to reach, no excitement, just....older.

For me, my Birthday not only signifies me getting older, but it is also a reminder that those around me are also aging. And that scares the hell out of me which is why I hate my Birthday. Each year I try to remind myself to be thankful that I am fortunate enough to actually experience another Birthday, and I do. I really do. But in the back of my head, a voice lingers. A voice of impending doom.

Most people who have children, look to the future and see mostly happy occasions and good times. They can imagine their child's graduation, marriage, grand babies, you name it. Not that children are the be-all-and-end-all of happiness (In fact, I don't think they are at all), but when I look to my future, I see mostly hardship. Death is part of life, and it is going to be a large part of my future. Only I won't have the positive, exciting experiences to offset those hard times.

After turning 26, I came up with a grand plan. When I reached the magical age of 29, I would start aging backwards...sort of like Benjamin Button. In a weird twist of fate, I would not be able to age below 25. For eternity I will be between the ages of 25-29. Too bad the whole world can't age that same way.

So next month, by my magical calculations, I will be turning 28. The only flaw in this whole scheme is that I will never look good for my age.

All Good Things....

All Good Things must come to an end, and mine comes to an abrupt halt on Friday. One more day of pure bliss and relaxation before I head back to work after nearly a month's hiatus. It has been wonderful.

During my break, I said hello to friends I hadn't seen in forever while also saying goodbye to an old friend. I spent time with family and got my house in the best shape it has been in since probably before I moved in. (Oh, there was also plenty of time for blogging and bejeweled too.)

Though it was relaxing and fun, I kept busy reconnecting with the now colorful hiking trails with friends and pups. That is something that I neglected for quite some time before my vacation. The impact that connecting with nature has on my sanity has never been more apparent, and it is something I must remember when cross country skiing season approaches. The past few years I have found myself skiing less and less.

For the first time in several years, I did not get the "August Blahs". Perhaps it was because I was in Vegas and anticipating a second stay-cation just weeks later. For years, when August presents itself, my mood plummets. Last year the "blah-ness" was better than in years past, but this year I can say it was totally absent (minus the acceptable sads for the loss of Punky).

This month has been my mental health month which I desperately needed, in part for some unexpected losses, but mostly just to rejuvenate and reenergize. It felt good. I feel good. And I think I'm even ready to return to work. After tomorrow.

Joining 'em

I've had it. I've tried everything. Squirt bottles, spankings, sticky tape, and even upside down car Mats. All of those are attempts to protect my furniture from the savage beast that is Muffin (and partly Tino too). Muffy is relentless. Relentless I tell you! Despite all my protective gear, she has broken through causing visible beginning stage Shredded Couch Syndrome. Its her work of art; her Picasso. Today I beefed up security and nailed kitchen size rugs onto my couch. They match pretty well and actually look better than all my other feeble attempts.

My hesitation with that is this: Putting carpet on my couch is going to encourage her scratching. My answer to that is this: She is doing damage despite all other discouragements. At least the rugs will protect the couch a while longer.

For five years I have tried to beat her. Not physically beat her. Just beat her at her game. She won this time. So, what is that old saying, "If you can't beat 'em, put rugs on your couch"?

Theraputic Purging

Now that Punky is gone, I have kind of been in a purging phase. Purging you ask? Like throwing up my food? No sir. I would never throw up my food intentionally. I love it too much. I'm purging stuff. And it feels gooooood.

It all started when I decided to get new carpet since the old gal is gone therefore not throwing up on the new stuff. Plus the old stuff was beyond ready to be purged since it had one too many barf-o-rama stains on it.

To prepare for the carpet install, I needed to remove all my furniture which led to furniture rearrangement. My house is tiny, and my living room is very oddly shaped with door frames and entry points breaking up the flow. As a result, I am stuck as far as practical furniture placement is concerned, but I am determined to have a different look in my living room when all is said and done. By George, I think I have succeeded. Simply by removing one item and moving locations of another, I think I'm satisfied.

All of that led to cleaning out of various filing cabinets, drawers, and to-be-decided piles. Things I haven't touched in months or years are being given away, donated or up for sale with my good buddy, Craig. As in Craig's List.

It feels good to get rid of Stuff and for some reason it has provided me with a good distraction and some excitement which has been helpful these days following Punky's departure. I feel lighter and freer and love getting rid of stuff.

In a World of Chuckies

Growing up, I loved dolls. Once I grew up, I continued to love dolls and even had my own porcelain doll collection. Nearly thirty porcelain dolls watched me sleep in my bedroom when I was in young adulthood. Each had their own name and I had assigned each with their own personality. Never were any of those dolls "creepy".

This weekend I have a Birthday party to attend for a 2 year old girl who loves baby dolls so I went shopping for the perfect doll for her. They all creeped me out! I couldn't bring myself to purchase any of the dolls, animated or otherwise. Their staring eyeballs. Their startling movements. Their robotic "voices". CREEPY I tell you. Creepy.

Now I realize why my niece hid a doll that was given to her for Christmas in her closet. This doll could "hear". It moved its head towards the sound of your voice. If you spoke to the left of the doll, she would move her head towards the left. Same as the right. It freaked my niece out so she hid it in the depths of her closet. I understand that now. Dolls are freaky.

Anybody want any porcelain dolls?

Vacation!

For one week I have been on vacation and I will continue to be on vacation for another whole week. Each day has proven to be busy and enjoyable. If it was financially feasible, I would totally retire. I'm not one of these people who will be working past retirement age simply to feel important or needed. Definitely not.

Much to my delight, I have taken a complete break from my job. Meaning I have not given thought to work very much (I'd be lying if I said not at all. I'm blogging about it after all). More than that, though, I don't really care. What I hear about work, I brush off my shoulder and think, "huh, I'm on vacation. Oh well." Its nice. Only one dream have I had regarding work.

Once again, I am reminded how blessed my life is with good friends. I have been unusually social during my hiatus, and each day I find myself making plans with yet another friend, acquaintance, cohort. Its amazing.

The one friend I wanted to be sure to touch base with during this time is my best friend, Mindy. We haven't seen each other since she had her second child 4-5 months ago. I called her. She hasn't called me back. Unaware of Vegas. Unaware of Punkin. Unaware in general. We're best friends by default, but really neither one of us know each other anymore. We've been friends since 1st grade, I was her maid of honor, and we still refer to each other as "bestest friends", but are we really?

Best friends are those that are there when you need them; when you're hurting; when you're happy; when you're bored. I have many best friends, but miss my bestest friend.

OK, so this took a complete deviation from vacation to best friends. Ahem. I'm free writing tonight.

Back to vacation! I am looking forward to my busy next week off and am going to try not to count down the days until I return to work. It'll be hard to return to "the unit" after my break, but I also know it'll feel good in a weird way too.