Ahhhh…the smell of cows

At my house in Orange County

On my way home today I swear that I smelled cow. Which is odd because I was not driving anywhere near cows. It is possible it was someone over seeding and fertilizing grass (yeah it’s that time of year here….to plant grass).

But when I smelled what I thought was cow my mind was filled with thoughts of my childhood. And how lucky I was to have the opportunity to experience different landscapes growing up…really experience, not just drive through.

Growing up in Orange County (I have to say this because we moved a lot all over O.C.) I experienced the beach and manicured lawns with nice grassy parks and community pools. Winters were spent skiing and enjoying cozy hotels or cabins.

On a lake in Wisconsin...or Minnesota...

Vacations consisted of visiting family in Wisconsin and Minnesota, depending on if I was with my mom or my dad. For a little while some vacations even sent me here to Arizona (of course I remember…next to nothing of those trips). I spent summers in the lake (I LOVED being in the water) and on the rope swing at my Grandma and Grandpa’s cabin, or in the fall at their house in town, jumping in piles of yellow and red leaves. If I was with my mom it was mostly summer time, which was at my aunt and uncle’s houses either on the lake or at their farms. Let’s just say the sound of a fan in the window and the noise a floor makes in a double-wide makes brings a smile to my face.

My mom and I in my uncle's pool - O.C.

When my dad moved me to Washington I longed for vacations out of that place! Montana, Wyoming, Tennessee…any place was better than the utter hate I felt for Washington.

Yet as I smelled that cow smell today my memories didn’t turn to the Midwest, and obviously not Orange County, but to Washington…to when my husband and I lived at our first house just outside of fields upon fields of farms filled with cows. In the summer when we would open the windows the smell would come hurtling in at full force.

So I guess after all I do miss Washington…even if it is linked to other memories, that have nothing to do with Washington.

Letters…Emails

I had a rather deep thought the other day when a very short and very sweet email arrived in my in-box…

Should I save this? and how?

Most of you reading this probably have a shoe box full of cards, letters, postcards that you felt were special enough to save over the years. Although the shoe box might be covered in dust or lost in the back of your closet…you know it ‘s there. And sure you might have gotten it down in a fit of rage and torn up half of it, and dumped it in the trash, but there is at least still something left in that shoe box. But when was the last time you added anything to your shoe box?

How many emails and text messages have you gotten that you wish you were able to save and re-read? Do you have a folder on the side of your email that reads: “SHOE BOX”

Have you even thought about saving emails that were not needed for legal reasons? Do you lock texts in your phone to look back at?

This is just one of many things which bug me about technology and how we have lost a lot of ourselves in it. I guess we can always give our email password to our kids and they can find the shoe box folder that way….

Storing Memories

Recently my mind has been going through boxes, ones I have stored up there. Don’t worry they aren’t taking up much space in my brain.

And although the boxes might be small, they are rather full. Things are poking over the top, and not because they weren’t packed properly. I rarely just go through my memories and throw them back in the box without a care.

It’s often interesting how many memories I still have. The fine details that are so vivid I can actually lay down and be there, in them, hearing, smelling, seeing.

I looked up my mom’s old house on a housing website, frankly these are creepy, way too much knowledge for people who want to cause bad, but…

Looking at the overhead view I could see myself playing back there, I can tell you everything that was the same or different from all those years ago.

Why is that? I wonder often….

Why do we hold so many memories, and they aren’t necessarily valuable memories? Why can’t we do that with knowledge needed for work or college? I read we barely use our brains, like, at all!! So why can’t we remember what is important? such as information on a test. But can remember what food your mom had in the cupboard and what color the dishwasher was and how many shelves were in the bathroom.

A Noise…Brings Me Back

A few weeks ago I was taking the garbage to the curb when I hear a familiar noise from my childhood.

It was the sound of the Goodyear blimp!!! And I knew it, even before I looked up and saw it motoring loudly overhead.

As I placed the trashcan in the correct spot, I heard neighborhood kids yelling, “It’s the blimp!” All the while I’m yelling the same thing, only inside my head, as someone my age shouldn’t be seen this excited about a loud, gray, bloated blimp.

I can’t remember how many times I would heard the blimp flying over our house, but unlike the thick insulated houses of today, I could hear that thing coming a mile away back home. My dad often drove past the Goodyear blimp as it sat resting in a field next to the freeway. I think I even had a blow-up toy version of it, which we got for free somewhere.

Back in my “it’s okay to yell about the blimp” years, I was living in California. In a house with a white fireplace (really, that was not the best color choice), and where I polished my dad’s white car with a lava rock from the front yard. I figured if I did it in big circles, like they do at the car wash, then it would surely shine. I was always so helpful! This house was also where I decided to lick a DD battery from the junk drawer and break a small Pyrex dish I needed for cooking oatmeal while my dad was out running one morning.

As the Goodyear blimp motors further away, I feel the need to wave, but slowly drop my already half-raised hand. I’m not a child anymore…

Shock and Awe at McDonald’s

I’ll admit, back in the day, when money was tighter than a lasso around a bulls horns I looked forward to walking up to the local McDonald’s behind our apartment and slapping down change for a cheeseburger on Sundays. 39 cents!!!! It was the best meal my hubby and I ate all week. That was back before they put nutritional information on the sides of the food.

Nowadays, they do. And nowadays, I rarely go to McDonald’s, or any fast-food place. But just this last week, I did.

I got an order of fries and a plain cheeseburger and a Coke. Grabbing two fries at a time, I shoved them into my mouth and noticed a nutrition label. Wow, how informative I thought, shoving more fries, two at a time into my mouth. Then I read what the nutritional label said: 270mg of sodium and 19g of fat. Awwwwwwwwe

Then I unwrapped my tiny and flat cheeseburger, took a bit, then another, and found the nutritional information on the side of the wrapper: 750mg of sodium and 12g of fat. SHOCK!!!!! How does a cheeseburger have more salt than fries cover in salt?!?!

The Coke, had no label…thank goodness!

After dinner, I was still hungry. Must have been all those empty calories, so I know y’all are thinking I was smart and ate something healthy…heck no, I had just made homemade brownies that morning!!

Missing Mom on Mother’s Day Weekend

Mom - school picture 1959

Every year when Mother’s Day comes rolling around, I usually, don’t even pay attention. I ignore the signs handing over the greeting card section, refrain from noticing the newspaper ads for Mother’s Day sales, and turn my back to others around me who are in a seemingly good mood about the upcoming Sunday. 

Of course, it’s not to say I don’t remember Mother’s Day, the ones I spent with my momma. I know I got her gifts, homemade for the most part. I remember being sad, even guilty that I didn’t get her anything store-bought. Although I wanted to rather badly. 

Mom in her barracks - date unknown

So every year, this day rolls on through and I think about what I would be able to buy her if she was here now. She wasn’t alive to see a DVD player, so I would buy her one, not a Blu-Ray though, she might think that was much too fancy, and rather ridiculous. I’d get her all the seasons of MASH on DVD, wrapping each box-set individually so she had more gifts to discover. 

Mom - date unknown

I would take her to lunch, although I don’t know where she would like to go, or what meal she would pick from the menu. What would she order to drink? Maybe I could take her to the old-fashioned soda fountain shop, were we ate often. Maybe now she wouldn’t cry when she heard Mister Sandman on the old jukebox, like she used to. 

Maybe her and I could walk along the beach. She never got to with me, she’d always sit in the car and watch through the windshield while someone else would take me out to the sand to look for shells and run through the edge of the foamy water. 

I’d buy her, her favorite flowers, if I knew what they were. I’d take her on vacation, if I knew the places she loved. 

Mom and me

If she was here for Mother’s Day, I wouldn’t call her Momma, Mommy, or Mother. I’d call her Mom, nice and slow, all drawn out, like I never wanted the word to stop rolling off my tongue…like the sound, would keep her here…

Update: Grandma and Grandpa’s Lake Cabin

I’ve noticed a lot of continued interest/hits on my post about Grandma and Grandpa’s Lake Cabin as the weeks continue by and was lucky enough to have my dad send me a picture taken by a family member of what it looks like now.

Grandma and Grandpa's Lake Cabin (recent)

The original shade of dirt brown has been re-painted, but I surely recognize it.  As you can see the left part of the cabin would the screened-in-porch and how you get to the front door. The window in the picture is the dinning area. Can you make out the lake through the screened-in-porch and just beyond the trees?

I wonder if the new owners make apple crisp like Grandma used to make….

Memories of Momma’s House – California

outside Momma's house

My momma had an awesome house, with a backyard that was perfect for two things. First, a Slip ‘n Slide, which I surely pushed to the edge of safety. Second, my Big Wheel, which I pedaled around at record-breaking speeds. Of course, I can’t forget the Badmitten net my uncle set up. Often times my serves ended up being saved by the neighbors orange trees, but we still lost many and moved the net out to the front yard, where I preceded to serve it onto the roof of the house. Besides all that, Momma had a peach tree, (best peaches ever!!) a lemon tree, a lime tree, some kind of grape vine, and neighbors…that had rosters and crushed aluminum cans all day.

The house had two sliders, one in the living room and one in the kitchen area, which meant I could run in all dripping wet either onto the carpet or onto the linoleum. Momma preferred the latter.

Momma had MS, so she had bars and pully things installed in her bathroom, which I saw as a jungle gym…I spent more time in there than needed for sure.

I was lucky enough to have my own bedroom when I came to visit and convinced her to let me paint it “Princess Pink.” However, I actually spent much of my time in her bedroom, especially at night as I would often sleep on her floor or in bed with her…although that was a challenge as she only had a twin-size bed.

painting my room

When I did sleep in my bedroom I would place my wad gum on top of the Barbie house my uncle built me. (My uncle later built my husband and I a wonderful floor to ceiling bookcase for our current family room) Well…Momma found out that every morning I would get up and put last night’s gum right back in my mouth, as not to waste it, so she told me that at night spiders came and pee on it. The smartass that I was, started to wrap my gum in Saran wrap when I went to bed. Take that peeing spiders!!

I can remember the pattern of the brown carpet, where everything was located in the entertainment center, the cupboards, the desk in the kitchen with the accordion roll down, the picture of three kids from Africa she sponsored, to the small white tile on the bathroom floor.

Back then, it was customary to have small AC units in a few windows of the home. Which made fans multiple around the home. There was a box fan in the living room and Momma had a osculating table fan in her bedroom. The sound of a fan still brings back memories…

Many people lived in the master bedroom at my momma’s house. My uncle, my aunt, and many nurses over the years, until she needed more help and was put in a nursing home. I remember three ladies in particular. But more on that another day.

You see I loved Momma’s house in the daytime, but at night, I was fearful. I would stay up late watching TV, with the box fan on to drown out any noises. My thought was if I could make it to 2am then nothing bad would happen. (I did hear that once when I wasn’t there, the police chased a man onto the roof in the middle of the night!)

I remember the sun would set out front, through the screen door as it would hit this picture that hung on the wall opposite the front door, sort of a Casablanca themed picture of buildings and palm trees in watercolor. At 7pm whichever adult with living with her at the time, would go around and close and lock all the doors. Maybe my fear wasn’t night time coming, but fear that another day was done and I would be leaving Momma sooner than I wanted.

notice the box fan...

When I returned for Momma’s funeral, at age 15, the house was unsettling. She hadn’t lived in it for several years as she had been living at a nursing home. The house was up for sale and my aunt had been running the show and all my things were getting removed, the entertainment center was gone, replaced by a 5 inch handheld black and white TV on top of a doily and an end table. My toys, off to a donation center, she said if she sent them home with me my dad would throw them away, (she was probably right) so when the garage door was open I proceeded with a loud temper tantrum for all the neighbors to hear and was able to take a few toys back to Dads anyway.

I’ve included photos in this post like yesterdays, as I think with a good fiction story we can easily visualize the story to our liking, but with non-fiction it’s better to see the real thing, even if the pictures are not as clear as we like, our memories can me.

Those Times at Grandpa and Grandma’s Lake Cabin

Flexing Muscles Outside The Cabin

Ahhh…the long drive from my Grandparent’s house to the lake cabin which, always consisted of a themed Minnesota cassette tape. A few favorites “How to Speak Minnesotan,” and the “Lake Wobegon,” collection.

I visited mostly in the summer, but a few times, I remember being there in the fall. (Much to my displeasure)

We arrived, climbed out of the car and there it was, Silver Lake. Off in the distance, our private fishing spot, Big Fish Bay, of course I think that wherever we found fish was our “private fishing spot.”

If it was summer and no one wanted to fish, then I would swim in the lake. I recall a floating dock wayyyy out in the lake, I was too afraid to swim out that far regardless of how bad I wanted to jump off it. I think most of the time when we visited in the summer there were no kids to play with so I would swim for hours by myself.

If you walked back toward the cabin, past the detached garage and up the driveway (yes, up) you would come to the rope swing  attached to the tree.

This swing was wonderful enough to get me to come outside when it was so cold my nose was running. Of course, the swing couldn’t give me its full potential unless I had an adult push me. (All this swinging took place before I developed a fear of height) I would swing so high, I would dare myself that if I let go I could easily land on the roof of the cabin or if I happened to be swinging sideways, in the bed of the neighbor’s truck. I LOVED that swing. (I know there are pictures of me on it somewhere…just not sure where.)

Fishing With Cousin Keith

Inside the small dark brown cabin was more wood paneling!! They must have had leftovers from the basement. (My Grandpa and dad, along with the other brothers built the cabin) A cuckoo clock hung on the wall in the small dark kitchen, pale wood cupboards, and small counter space.

Down the hall were a bathroom and a guest bedroom. All I remember about those are: the bathroom had a HUGE spider in the sink one time and the guest bedroom had windows so high up you couldn’t see out them and it felt like jail. I never slept a wink in that room! I know my Grandparent’s bedroom was off the living room, but I don’t think I ever even went in it in all the times I visited.

The living room had a small black and white TV on a rolling cart and a wide-open view of the lake. If you stayed up late to watch TV you could hear Grandpa and Dad snoring in the rooms.

The memories of the lake cabin and all that we did around the area have faded faster than I would like.

I know that the rope swing is no longer there; in fact, I believe it came down even before they sold the cabin many years ago.

Remembering…Grandparent’s House

If there was an interior designer writing a book on retro style, they surely could’ve used my Grandparent’s house (on my dads side) in Minnesota for some amazing pictures. I don’t think they ever updated a single thing!

Outside stood trees so high, they blocked the sun at all phases of the day. The leaves in the fall were killer and a mess!

The front door had three diamond-shaped windows in it. The TV sat low encased in wood just under the front window. Grandma spent her time in the living room doing crossword puzzles.

The kitchen had a long counter top and they had the best refrigerator ever. Olive-Puke Green with one of those silver handles that snapped closed and you had to watch your fingers. Grandma kept half-open pop cans in there…and she drank it after it was all flat!

The kitchen chairs that neatly fit around the table were fully padded vinyl of some kind. When you pulled out the chair, it made a distinct noise and when you scooted it in the chair legs made another distinct noise. Grandpa spent his time playing solitary there. The wallpaper in the kitchen area would have made even a slightly drunk person go crazy. I watched Grandma make many apple crisps in that kitchen, and lastly saw Grandpa placing Cheetos in the bird feeder outside the kitchen window.

Down the hall was the bathroom. This bathroom had to have the worse colors of any bathroom. I think, if I remember correctly, the bathtub was pink or maybe a pink/peach color. There might’ve been some blue in there too…but what that bathroom lacked in poor color choices it made up for with the laundry chute. I remember sending my Hot Wheels and Barbie’s down that thing!

The laundry chute went down stairs…to the scary “Home Alone” basement. The stairs were steep and made an old wood noise I could pick out of a line up even today.

Now of course other than retrieving my toys I had a good reason to go into this damp, cold, dark basement…the Rec Room!!! It was half of the basement and you would flip a switch on the wood panel wall and slowly, one by one, the noisy overhead lights would hum on.

And there it would sit…on the linoleum…THE WORST POOL TABLE EVER! You placed a ball on this table and it would roll until it hit a side. Nonetheless, I would grab a cue off the rack, rub that infamous blue chalk across the top and rack up a game. I played for hours on end, until I had to use the restroom…then I ran back upstairs…I sure as heck wasn’t going to use the scary basement bathroom!!!