Sixth blog: What I thought I knew about night life

What I thought I knew: In the 1960's,when I lived in the Valley, my notion of going out included picturing the "jet set" having cocktails in fashionable clothes in downtown somewhere, perhaps an exotic locale such as France. In those days, going to Hawaii was considered exotic. My parents occasionally, and by this, I mean, maybe once a year, took themselves out to dinner with another couple to a fancy restaurant in downtown Los Angeles. There was talk of chocolate mousse and of having drinks. Night life during the 1960's was a house party or a pool party. Our family never went out for dinner, unless it was a very special occasion paid for by my grandfather or a Christmas bonus. We never ate fast food, instead packing a lunch all over the country on vacations or weekend excursions to go hiking. When I was in junior high, still in the San Fernando Valley, I realized that my father sometimes went out for a beer to a local bar that happened to be on my way home from school. Years later, he later admitted to going out with the church treasurer to decide over beer what church bills to pay this month, a fine budget solving location.

When I was of high school age and living in Salt Lake City, going out meant being invited to parties where beer was somehow available along with a potential boyfriend and a chance to feel uncomfortable in a new situation. Night life for high school kids included going to "keggers" up Mill Creek Canyon, smoking between classes, driving around looking for a place to drink beer, sneaking beer into the theater while watching "Monty Python's The Search For the Holy Grail" and driving up behind the Capital in the "avenues" in order to enjoy the view and of course, drink beer. I had a strict curfew and was home by 11:00 pm, 9:00 pm on a school night. I can still remember the first time I tried smoking something, crammed into an old pick-up truck in the parking lot of my high school during a "Stomp" (a casual dance) and listening to The Who singing "Baba O-Reilly," a song that explained, "it's only teenage wasteland." My next encounter with something new was accompanied by Pink Floyd from "Dark Side of the Moon." So this was my teenage night life - drinking something we were not yet old enough to purchase ourselves and listening to (what is now) classic rock music.

Going out in high school also meant finding a place to be alone with your boyfriend or girlfriend. Mom and Dad used to take turns staying up till 11:00 pm waiting for my return, both reporting that "Your mom worries about you," or "Your dad worries about you." Sometimes my friend Becky and I would drive up and down State Street. Oh boy. Family night life included the pre-planned "game night" and my parents took us out to dinner at Christmas. Gatherings at the house during holidays or vacations were what we looked forward to as entertainment. Consider Salt Lake City; there were very few bars, and only private clubs could serve liquor. Apparently I was waiting on the exciting notion of dressing up and going out for cocktails, enjoying stimulating conversations with interesting people and wearing high heels; I couldn't wait to be 21 years old.

College meant cheap beer and really bad wine - in a jug just for variety. It's not that I partied a lot (actually, partied was not really a verb yet); I usually quit after two drinks. There was not much night life glamor in college, but my last two years were spent in the company of a lot of musicians, which was full of performance and parties and perhaps a bottle of brandy shared to some funky music at someones house. When I got married, night life was playing cards with two of our friends and sharing dinner. I miss playing hearts and hearing Jim announce, "and they're off" whenever Kathy would try to run the cards. We did not go to bars, and in fact, we stayed home, made nachos and tried different beers and local wines with friends. We did not spend our evenings watching TV for entertainment, yet we were still entertained. OK, we also went to Grateful Dead concerts; don't assume anything about that, it's a normal bay area activity to be a deadhead.


What I know now: I'm never going to be the model-iscious, perfumed, well dressed, perfectly made up, high heel wearing, cocktail sipping girl out on the town at expensive upscale bars. I am in fact, more than comfortable at local establishments that sell hamburgers and cheap PBR. Until money became tight, I probably shared a meal with my boyfriend twice a month at Chapala's and a few times more for burgers. Going out has meant having season tickets to the symphony with my sister and brother-in-law. It has meant joining a local quilting group for a monthly meeting. My so-called night life is going to local concerts when someone you want to see actually makes it here on a Tuesday night, renting movies from Netflix, watching TV and naturally, family gatherings. I used to go out dancing when I first became single (16 years ago) at a local bar and grill called The Dutch Goose; the place became my living room, my place to study and where I met some close friends. The Goose progressed from a singles dance spot where I met my boyfriend, (they stopped having live music) to the location of choice for family birthday parties and welcome home celebrations.

As for my aspirations for a night life, I have gotten used to being tired at 10:00 PM. Having a night life would severely cut into not only my budget, but also my energy. I want to go out dancing, but at 9:00 when the bands start playing, I'm heading for bed. Also, I no longer know what local musical group might be fun since "The Tourists" disbanded. If I plan it right and get in a nap, I could go out dancing, have a few drinks and take a taxi home. Maybe for my birthday?

Fifth Blog: What I learned about watching television

What I thought I knew: As a child, I did not have access to a television until I was about 7 or 8. I recall watching Felix the Cat on a small black and white TV. Then my parents purchased a small Zenith black and white TV, our first new television. We had about 4 channels, some of them UHF, requiring a separate antennae. Within two or three days, it conked out and started smoking, smelling of burnt electronics. Anyway, we replaced it. On Sunday or Saturday night, my family would make popcorn and watch "The Honeymooners" with Jackie Gleason and the June Taylor Dancers. Mom allowed us an hour of television watching a day and we were not allowed to watch the mysterious "Dark Shadows," a vampire infested soap opera. On Saturdays, our hour was cartoons early in the morning, before the housecleaning routine began (see last week's blog). I just had to watch "The Monkeys," because Davey was so dreamy and later, "The Partridge Family" because David Cassidy was so dreamy. "Laugh-In" began showing in the late '60s, and was on after my bedtime, although I recall watching some of the shows. In 1969, the whole neighborhood watched as men walked on the moon for the first time. Star Trek was introduced and then quickly taken from us. I only saw the show in re-runs.

Television was not really a habit or necessary. Somewhere in the '70s, the networks began showing full length movies.It was so unusual, we viewed this as a treat. A standout event from those days was the resignation of Richard Nixon on live TV. He unfortunately did not look good on TV, and I recall many comedians making jokes at his expense (Rich Little walking on the beach, murmuring about politics.) During college, I began watching "Monty Python's Flying Circus, a show I can hardly stand now. Sometime after I got married, I began watching Johnny Carson. I have a VHS tape of his last show and nobody has ever gotten close to entertaining me the way Johnny could. Television became more important after I was married, as my husband insisted on purchasing a large TV for us to watch. His parents watched Jeopardy every night. Scheduling an evening around television viewing was a strange and weird idea for me. Sometime in the '80s, I watched the Olympics for the first time on TV; now I can watch the opening ceremonies on a 44 inch HD TV.

What I have learned:  After I moved into my home in Boise, we got cable TV, without which, we receive no programs. I had cable until last year and then I turned it off. I still get almost no programs because I can't see Bogus Basin from my house behind the foothills. Cable TV and remote controls have given us the ability to waste all day watching TV. There is so much information and entertainment available that I feel overwhelmed. Choosing a channel seemed much easier when a) there were only 4 channels and b) mom only let us watch for an hour. I suspect that my standards are higher for actual entertainment then (sorry kids) what the younger generation counts as entertainment. There are lots of vampire shows, often sexual content and no cigarettes. People SMOKED in the '60s. Commercials are often more interesting than the show that is on, but there are 20 minutes of selling for every hour of show. Remember when we thought having cable TV, a service we paid for meant there would be no commercials?

What I know now: OK, I have my favorite shows, including "The Big Bang Theory" and "My Name is Earl". I long for entertainment, not unscripted reality shows that spotlight the bickering that Americans, competitors always, profess to enjoy. Star Trek, (not one of my favorites) has lasted until the Next Generation of re-runs. Movies are made of television shows. Mash continues in re-runs somewhere. Myself, I go to the library at least twice a month and I subscribe to a movie service. My reality is unscripted, except for the conversations in my head. Don't you understand? This blog is what's in my head!

Fourth Blog: What I learned about housecleaning

What I thought I knew: When I was growing up, we cleaned the house on a weekly basis. Every Saturday at 9:00 AM, we had to help mom clean the house, even if we would rather watch "The Monkeys" or cartoons. We changed sheets and towels, cleaned the sink, toilet, tub, counters, mirror and floor in the bathrooms, dusted and vacuumed the entire house, including the tops of doors and the cross pieces of chairs, and cleaned the sink, counter tops and washed the floor of the kitchen. This took a long time. I remember my mother doing the chores before we were old enough. When we got bigger, say in the 1st grade (I will check with my sister on the timing), we started helping with dinner chores. This meant setting the table and clearing up after dinner. We were responsible for cleaning up our messes every day, making our beds and brushing our teeth. We emptied garbage cans and put away our laundry. When I was in high school, I started cleaning the house for money. My mother had me from 9:00 AM until 3:00 PM every Saturday. If I finished the house, I started on the laundry and ironing. I got $10.00 for my time, which I saved for spending money on family vacations. At dinner time, we all helped, making salad, setting the table, doing the dishes, clearing the table, vacuuming under the dining table. It was a family event.

What I learned when I got married: If I wanted the dishes done, I did them. The first time my husband had the agreed upon responsibility to do the dishes, we went out and spent some vacation money we had left over on a dishwasher. That dishwasher followed us from San Mateo, California to Seattle, Washington and finally to Boise, Idaho, when we eventually gave it to my sister who was living in Mountain Home. Somehow, over time, cleaning the house was not so important. I think I cleaned house once a week, but I don't remember the last years in which that happened. Must have been early Idaho 20 years ago. . .

What I was learning: Housecleaning, it's not necessary for my sanity. Apparently, housecleaning is important for my former husband according to my children. While I was giving it up, he was adding it to his "must do" agenda. The kids tell stories of having to re-clean and organize if they did not get things done appropriately. Meanwhile, I took a year off from mowing my lawn because I was in graduate school and just decided to keep a jungle in the back yard. I mowed the front; after all, I respect my neighbors. I began cleaning less and less, and mostly just putting things away. I went from doing everything on my mother's list to vacuuming if dirt was showing and cleaning the sinks when I just could not stand it anymore. Housework is time consuming and physical work. It wore me out to clean the whole house, explaining why my mother was willing to pay me when I was in high school.

What I know now: Oddly enough, after my kids moved away to college, I developed a realistic attitude about cleaning up, or maybe my values became more apparent. It only takes a few minutes to do the dishes, and maybe a half hour at Thanksgiving, if you clean as you cook. I vacuum once a week or more depending who is living with me at the time. (My friend Paula says vacuum the number of times a week that equals the number of people living in your house.) I sometimes do the bathroom sinks once a week, but I also learned to wipe out any sink that appears dirty to postpone the time consuming deep cleaning. Sometimes, it gets away from me. I have noticed that I will clean a) if the house is so dirty that I can't stand it or b) if I have company coming or the big one, c) if I have a work project that just needs to be done immediately. Then my house gets some extra chores done, which diverts me from any actual work I have assigned myself.

I'd write some more, but I have to take out the recycling, maybe, I guess, if I have to. Actually, I'll probably do it Friday morning, which is trash day. Maybe Thursday night? The sheer joy of not having to decide is pleasurable. I hope that you get the same joy out of your day.

Third blog - How I learned to enjoy vegetables

What I thought I knew: I will guess that most of us probably recall that we hated vegetables when we were young. They tasted strange and had weird textures. My mother insisted on salad and a vegetable with every dinner and I probably ate carrots and celery every school day. Our salads, populated by leafy greens, iceberg, little green onions and wedges of tomatoes were always dressed with vinegar and oil. It wasn't even olive oil. By the end of dinner, the salad was limp and inedible, yet my father always finished the leftovers as we were doing dishes. We ate vegetables from a can or from a frozen box. Green peas and lima beans were yucky and the choices available seemed limited. I hated kidney beans, which appeared in mom's chili and sometimes in salads on other people's dinner tables. Vegetables were something to be accepted as inevitable and not something to enjoy. Even the odd bean sprout or mushroom found in mom's Chop Suey seems like a pretty bland memory. There is one delicious exception - corn on the cob. Well two, I also learned to like fresh artichokes, boiled in an inch of water and the leaves peeled off one at a time and dipped in mayonnaise. But I loved corn on the cob. My parents always found a local farmer or market from which to purchase 10 ears for a dollar. Sweet, salted, buttered and almost too hot to touch; chomping across the rows, rapidly finishing the corn before eating anything else and then eating more if available. Unlike many people I meet now, I also had access to avocados, technically a fruit, but too squishy and weird to enjoy as a child. Guacamole was disgusting.

What I know now: Wow, there are so many choices today! Eating fresh vegetables, even kale, can be scrumptious, if not only "good for you." Just last week, I discovered that if I peeled cut up broccoli, all the way up to the florets, that eating them raw was pretty tasty, and not so cabbage and smelly close up to your nose as you might anticipate. Peeling that much up the stem just makes broccoli better. When I was in my 20s, I discovered that my parents were eating fresh green beans, locally grown tomatoes that tasted good and cooking them delicately instead of boiling them to limpness. I discovered later that steaming vegetables allowed me to be more precise about how done I wanted to serve vegetables, and peeling things like brussels sprouts, broccoli and asparagus provided the opportunity for tenderness instead of stringy.

Lately, I've been stir frying any vegetables I have around the house in any combination (except for lettuce) and serving them over brown rice, whole grain pasta or by themselves. Just add spices, cook in olive oil, and for those of us with bad habits, add butter and some salt. I've also discovered that I love vine ripened tomatoes, cut into bite-size pieces, which is almost as important as their flavor. If I have to cut a tomato in my salad to eat it, I sometimes don't bother to eat the thing. I also learned to love onions and peppers, making them a staple in my kitchen along with the romaine lettuce in the crisper and edamame in the freezer. One day, I'll be able to get edamame from my local farmer. . . . Meanwhile, red onions sliced thin and marinated with some salt in freshly squeezed lime juice makes a great complement to tacos and so do fried onions and peppers, as well as roasted peppers and tomatillos made into a sauce. Garlic. Love it, but in moderation.

Salads - well, as an adult, I was introduced to bottled dressings. We did not keep such items in our refrigerator. The options for dressing are as marvelous as they are often disappointing. I found a dressing I like so much that I buy 4-5 bottles from the store that carries them. I make salads that include lots of vegetables and SOMETIMES lettuce. I add walnuts, flax seeds, tuna, broccoli, cauliflower (which is great in a stir fry), bacon (everything is better with bacon even though it's not a vegetable), capers, cottage cheese, carrots, tomatoes, peppers, red cabbage and spinach. I still don't put onions in salad. I like them cooked. As for guacamole, my best friend makes a great dip, no onions, some tomatoes, salt, lime juice, spices and some salsa. I actually eat a little with corn chips now and again.

By the way, what I still know:  I don't like cooked mushrooms. Raw is OK, but really, are mushrooms necessary in my crisper drawer? I still pick them out of dishes, which I order because I like the flavor, just not the consistency. Hope these blogs are consistent enough for you to continue enjoying my words.

Second blog: What I learned about my chronological age - YIKES!

What I thought I knew: When I was a child, adults were huge and much older than myself. They wore grown-up clothes and could drink a glass of wine and best of all, they could surprise me. The definition of older was clearly defined by the limitations placed on myself as a child by my parents. They could say yes or no and formulated the routine events and recreational opportunities of my life. I recall crossing the big street from my Kindergarten to my house at age 5 and being sternly yelled at by my mother. She must have been frightened - it was a four lane road and I was too young to cross by myself or make that decision. At age 5, we moved from Pacifica, California to Northridge, California. Our family began to spend vacation time with the people I knew as "Mark and David" and their parents. We hiked and played and waited for our parents to wake up from naps to fix dinner. At age 14, we moved to Salt Lake City, Utah. I remember thinking that I knew quite a lot at age 14, being comfortable in the San Fernando Valley with all my friends. Changing schools and states made me feel like a freak, a label I finally decided was acceptable. At age 17, I graduated from high school and in the fall, went to college, where I turned 18. My 18th birthday and the chronological beginning of adulthood was marked by the piercing of my ears, a gift from my roommate, Beth.

The In-Between Years: I remember the first time I thought of myself as an adult. It was several years after moving to Boise, Idaho when I was 30. Our family was joined by a family from Seattle for Thanksgiving at my home in Boise. We had very small children sharing the table with us and I realized that We Were The Parents! We could define the holidays, make decisions about where to live and how to raise our children. I was still thinking of myself as a person about age 18-20 with a few years of experience behind me but not having earned the thirty-something title I had chronologically acquired. Chasing children around began to make me tired. I could not follow them around the playground and I have never slept through the night again. I was not feeling physically or emotionally much older, except now I knew why my parents napped in the afternoon.

What I know now:  I have reached middle age, the fifties decade. It shows in my hair, which is curly and has silver highlights. Aging began for me sometime in my forties when the aches of the week never left and became the expected norm. What was also unexpected, was the weight gain. Your body betrays you as you age, leaving permanent marks detailing when and where you have neglected yourself. Working out three times a week and adding cardio twice more is my physical insurance policy towards watching grandchildren marry and graduate. Emotionally, I feel things more strongly but I am more comfortable with what I feel-except my chronological age for dealing with other people's anger is still about age 10. I have always been a forgiving and accepting person (well, that is my definition...) but I now balance acceptance with appropriately expressing my discomfort. By discomfort, I mean, letting you know when I'm angry with you. Actually, that needs some experience, practice and recognition, so I'm probably in my twenties in terms of expressing myself.

Advice for today:  At this age, I recognize how important it is to find out what I want to do, make plans and then follow through with whatever I had planned. When I was 20, I had no idea what I wanted and sometime in my late forties began to wonder if I would get everything done!! By the way, what is your everything list? Mine included writing this blog. Hope you got to this sentence, because it's the last one.

First blog - what I learned this week!

This week I began searching for places to post a blog. By places, I don't mean sitting at my kitchen counter with my new laptop, I mean a site for blogging. The language of blogging sites is not user friendly, but necessary for communicating with potential readers. It's possible that this is the new way to write the great American novel. It's also scary. Writing and getting published and noticed in printed form may still take an agent, rejection, reams of paper and saving lots of work in your external hard drive. Getting published online only requires learning the language of the web from your kids, attending seminars about social media, using the HELP button extensively and hoping you have something to say.

I would like to use this blog to talk about the culture of significant relationships. These relationships are the people we know who are married to us, related to us, best friends forever, living with us, our parents, our children, our brothers and sisters, people we work with and our inner relationship with ourselves. We are formed by the people we grew up with and then re-formed by the people with whom we spend significant amounts of time as adults. Look for me on a weekly basis.

What I thought I knew: As a young adult, my goals included attending and finishing college, enjoying a meaningful or significant career and marriage for the rest of my life to one person. This extremely broad set of expectations is too confusing. I'll start with college.

What I thought I knew about going to college: Sometimes people attend college for the wrong reason. Myself, I went because my parents encouraged and expected this next step after high school. I chose to attend Pacific Lutheran University in Tacoma, Washington. I started taking music courses, intending to major in Music. PLU had an excellent orchestra and music program and a new cello teacher. I could probably blog about playing cello and the resulting arthritis in my left hand.

I had started playing cello in junior high school after my sister began taking violin lessons. She was dedicated and I somehow found myself taking both piano and cello lessons. I followed my sister's goals. I followed my parent's goals. I picked music because someone told me that was the most obvious course for me. I was not inspired by the cello teacher at PLU and finished college at California State University at Sacramento.

The cello teacher at CSUS seemed much better, but I was never going to be the virtuoso continuing on to Julliard. I could have been more than mediocre, had I followed my own inspiration. Apparently, I was not inspired at age 17 or at age 20 and rarely thought about what I really wanted to do. So, I graduated with a Bachelor's in Music, Cello Performance and then quit playing music.

What I learned about going to college: After graduating, I felt free of the obligation to do one of the things that my parents expected, which is not what I expected to learn from that experience. Drifting through tasks and life, I continued to really enjoy music, collecting record albums, attending concerts (rock and classical) and playing piano. I paid for piano lessons for two of my children and turned up the stereo when a good piece of music was playing. The idea that I am not talented enough to perform music professionally stuck with me-a silly notion, because I could easily have joined a professional orchestra.

Advice to my younger self: Go and do what you think is interesting at the time. It doesn't have to be convenient or college or correspond to what you think you SHOULD do. Learning is easier when you are still a child. Experiment and dabble with what interests you.

Advice today: Guess what, I can still go and do what I think is interesting, but it's complicated by adult responsibilities. I'll make time anyway: I know what inspires me now.

What actually happens: I plan to sing at open mic nights, but get too tired. I sometimes buy new piano music and learn a new piece. I listen to the radio. My CD player in the car and in my house is broken. When I tried to replace the CD player at home, the store no longer carried any. I don't have a personal listening device. I go to concerts when I can afford tickets and had season tickets to the symphony for several years, which I attended with my sister and her husband. We criticized orchestra personnel relentlessly. I take lots of photos, but since going digital, don't print them enough. I make 5-10 quilts a year and just began painting with acrylics. I opened up a private practice, offering counseling to adults, especially couples. I spend time with family and those significant best friends forever.

Thanks for reading.