What I did on my summer vacation

Remember when you were in school, maybe 5th grade, your teacher would have you break in your brand new spiral/notebook by writing an "essay" entitled "What I Did On My Summer Vacation"?
 It usually went something like "I went to summer camp at Lake-Lame-Indian-Name. There were lots of bugs. My team won tug of war. I got sunburned the second day and had to stay in my bunk. I had a lot of fun."

Well, my summer vacation started on May 29. It was the day my first grandchild was born. So, I drove to League City so I could meet her. She is so stinking cute! It was love at first sight. I will grandparent gush in a later blog. She's really wonderful and my son and daughter-in-law are going to be great parents.

After staying a few days, we returned to Falfurrias to pack to go to Colorado. A group of us had won a trip to Telluride and an added bonus trip was available to go to a private fishing camp. Colorado is a beautiful place. I got to do two things on my bucket list. Fly fishing and riding horses in the mountains. While I didn't actually ride horses up in the mountains, I did ride through a gorgeous meadow where we saw a herd of moose. And, I rode through a trail at the foot of the mountains, and over a clear stream. Fly fishing was an entertaining challenge, and while I didn't catch anything, I did get a bite. As much fun as Colorado was, I was quite happy to return to the wide open spaces of South Texas.

One thing the Colorado trip taught me is that I am destined to remain on flat land. The views of mountains is breathtakingly beautiful. The air is clear. And I was altitude sick for days. I curiously started feeling claustrophobic after the initial awe of seeing the majesty of the mountains wore off. I think it was the driving in the mountains that was the deal breaker for me. Short distances take twice the time than it does in flat country. I realized I will only be a visitor to Colorado, never a resident.

Another thing the trip taught me is to rethink getting a horse. While I haven't ruled out all together getting a horse or two, it did open my eyes to how labor intensive horses are. It may be too much to take on. But maybe not. I don't know many girls who's childhood dreams didn't include having a horse. And even though I am old, the little girl in me still longs for my very own horse. We shall see. Maybe one day...

Typo correction

In the previous posting ("Writing an Obituary"), I reported my Aunt Mary's passing as February, 2012. She actually passed away February 22, 2015. Just wanted to correct my mistake.

Writing an Obituary

Writing an obituary isn’t easy. One is usually written under duress. Your loved one has died, funeral arrangements must be made, and the obituary needs to get to the paper for timely publication. Consequently, the obituary in the paper doesn’t always tell the story of your loved one. 

The first obituary I wrote was that of my maternal grandmother, Ruth Tankersly Stockton, in 1986. It was short. To the point, but nothing particularly special. In 2001, I had to write an obituary for Rodney H. Scott, my father. But, seriously, I don’t even remember doing it. Daddy’s death was a shock, and I seem to have blocked writing anything for him from my memory. The next obituary needed, was that of my mother, Billy Ruth Stockton Scott, in 2012. 

Mama passed away after years of suffering from COPD. She had been hospitalized several times and had always managed, against all odds, to make it home again. So, when she passed, I wasn’t prepared. Even though I knew she was living on borrowed time, I just wasn’t expecting her to die in that hospital that day. Again, the obituary was short, and to the point. It was fine, made the paper in time, and served the intended purpose – to notify those that would like to know of a friend/relative’s passing. 

There was quite a bit lacking, however, in the obituary. For example, I would have liked to say that Mama was strong willed, but soft-hearted. She had high expectations and wanted things done her way, but she could be very forgiving and easy-going.  She was not formally educated, but was well-read and interested in politics, art, and history. She loved antiques, pottery, and watercolors. She had an eye for decorating and her home was always comfortable and welcoming. Mama dressed simply, but loved seeing that her children and grandchildren were well-dressed. She was neat and tidy, and liked things “just so.” She was chronically late to any event she ever attended, even though she hated being late. She enjoyed having others in her home, enjoying good food and beverages. Even after her health started declining, she would invite her cousins to the house, for a meal and good company. She did not, however, like people making a fuss over her. And you had better not ever take her to a restaurant and get the wait staff to bring a cake with a candle and stand around singing “Happy Birthday.” This might have been the only thing for which she would hold a grudge. She loved having a good time and liked a good laugh. Mama taught us how to play cards. She regularly beat me, gloating with glee and in good fun, in Gin Rummy. I knew she was declining when I started winning. 

While we were growing up, Mama followed the kids in all their athletic endeavors. She made sure we had food and snacks and traveled all over Texas watching us participate. She followed her sister, a basketball coach, to the state tournament, and did the same when her younger daughter coached a volleyball team at state. She went to LA to watch her son participate in the Deaf Olympics in track.  

Home was where Mama was. For a long time, home has been Falfurrias. I lived in the Houston area for about 25 years. However, once Mama’s health started getting bad, joined not too long after by her sister’s (my Aunt Mary Lee Stockton) cancer diagnosis, I started spending more and more time in Falfurrias, before finally moving to Falfurrias in the summer of 2011.Friends in the Houston area would frequently ask if Mama and Aunt Mary would consider coming to live with me. I would just laugh and shake my head. “No, no way,” I would tell my friends. Mama and Aunt Mary had made it clear that Falfurrias was home and that’s where they wanted to be. “If you’re not from here, you just wouldn’t understand it,” Mama would say. Then, she would list all the negatives about being in Falfurrias. For instance, it was often miserably hot, dusty, dry, and the fleas, ticks, and ants threatened to overtake the farm. It never rained. There’s not a great deal available in the way of entertainment. The local grocery store is small and sometimes lacks a few things Mama liked. But, she always would then explain that it was the people of Falfurrias she so dearly loved. She had many cousins she grew up with still in the area. There were many classmates from Sacred Heart and the High School still around. Nope. There’s no way she was leaving and living anywhere else. She certainly understood those that chose to leave for more temperate climates and more excitement, but that was just not for her. Aunt Mary felt the same way. Staying put on the farm was their greatest wish. With Mama, we weren’t able to keep her home at the end. With Aunt Mary, we were able to let her go peacefully in her sleep, here on the farm. It was probably one of the greatest gifts the good Lord granted my aunt.

Fast forward a few years, and another obituary was needed, this time for my dear aunt, Mary Lee Stockton. With practice, I think this obituary might have actually captured much of what needed to be said. Aunt Mary’s health declined slowly, but steadily. She was initially diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and was given about 6 months. That was in October of 2010. She passed in February, 2012. Consequently, I had time to consider what needed to be said about my aunt. It was a very long obituary. And there was still probably more that could have been said. 

There was no greater testament to my mother, Billy Ruth Stockton Scott, and that of my Aunt Mary Lee Stockton, than the outpouring of love and many kindnesses shown in the days following Mama’s and Aunt Mary’s passing. Food magically appeared, coffee was magically made, cold drinks magically rested in ice chests.  Good stories and good laughs were shared right along with the grief and the tears.  At the house after the funeral, people seemed to be having a great time, something Mama and Aunt Mart would have dearly loved. 

A friend wrote a little sentiment in a card that I would like to share. She wrote “Heaven is celebrating your mother’s arrival. How cool is that?” How cool, indeed. I like to think that the two sisters, Billy Ruth and Mary Lee, are up in heaven, making the good Lord wonder what He was thinking when He let those two get together again. 

My third Mother’s Day without Mama, and my first without my other mother, Aunt Mary, is around the corner. I am so very, very sad to be without them, but am so grateful for all the lessons they taught.  And, I am deeply appreciative for the many kindnesses shown to the family in the days immediately following their passing.  

The Adventure Really Begins

Back in March, I blogged that big changes are on the way. And, they are. Shortly after the March 30 blog, we put our Houston suburb home in Friendswood on the market on a glorious Sunday afternoon. We had two showings on Monday, and two on Tuesday. By Tuesday evening, we had 3 offers to consider. I was amazed that this process went so quickly. Thankfully, in this locale, it's been a seller's market. So, now that the home inspection, survey, and appraisal are done, it seems we are going to close in a week. Now this is a huge ginormous deal. Not because we made a killing on the sale of our house. I mean, we did okay. But more because of what selling this house means.

It means leaving the Houston metropolitan area after arriving here in the summer of 1991. Matt was 9  years old. Becca was 4.  I was 36. Husband was 38. Lots of living, growing, working, loving occurred here over the past 24 years. We raised a family and have seen our children grow into adults and leave home. We worked hard. I went back to school and eventually got my master's at age 50. Changed careers.Survived the death of my father, mother-in-law, mother, and aunt. Survived moving away from my husband four years ago to care for my mother and my aunt, and take over running family's property in South Texas. Survived a mid-life crisis that came with losing mama, my anchor. I mean, seriously, I got a tatoo, bought a truck without husband's approval and was just generally an idiot on many, many, many levels, in many, many, many ways. Probably the best thing I did after Mama died, with the encouragement of an old friend and a very special cousin of mine, was to return to the Catholic Church after about 34 years. The Church has become the anchor I so desperately needed and filled the void left by Mama's passing.

So, now, with the sale of our little, weird, fixer-upper Ranch in an old subdivision in Friendswood, we are going to leave the big city. Leave living near my son and dearest daughter-in-law just about 3 before the due date of the birth of our FIRST grandchild. We are going to become permanent  residents of Brooks County, Texas. I'm not sure what's in store, but I'm betting that the retirement adventure that I thought started 4 years ago is just now going to truly get started....

Big changes on the way

Well, we listed our house in Friendswood for sale yesterday. The plan is to build a house on the three acres we bought from the family partnership on our farm in Falfurrias. Which means we will become permanent residents of Brooks County. A big change.

Another big change is that we are expecting our first grand baby very soon. DIL Melissa is due on June 5. She thinks child will arrive sooner. I don't quite know what to think about this. I'm excited to be sure, but I don't know what to expect. I figure I'll just roll with it. But being a grand mama is going to be a big change.

Son is having shoulder surgery this week. He evidently has a very damaged shoulder that can't wait to be fixed. It was compared to a shoulder of a 70 year old man. Matt is only 32. So, I'm going to go stay with him for several days while he recovers, so DIL can go to work. She's got to save some leave  for when the baby is born. I haven't had to take care of my son since he was a very young boy. So, caring for him as a grown man could be a big change.

I have a new puppy. She's 4 months old. And she's beautiful and funny. But, I no longer can just take off and be away from home without considering my puppy. That's been a big change.

I guess the biggest change is that for the first time my siblings and I are basically alone... All grandparents are gone. Parents are gone. And with the recent passing of our Aunt Mary, the running of the small ranch that's been in the Stockton family for nearly 100 years, is left to my siblings and I. So, my sister and I will be staying here, living on the family's place west of Falfurrias, and will attempt to carry on. It's a big change for my sister and I. But, I've heard it said, the more things change, the more they stay the same.

Screw tops

It should be a rule..... ALL Chardonnay sold in the great state of Texas should be sold without a cork and with a screw top. The rationale behind this suggestion is simple .... Open bottle begs to be finished. If one could simply screw the top on, like a Liter of Coca-Cola, one wouldn't be so inclined to finish the full bottle of 15% alcohol in one sitting. I'm just sayin'.

Sleepless in Falfurrias

A Facebook friend recently wondered, on a posting, if she was condemned to never sleep through the night again. Evidently, her toddler's sleeping pattern had gotten wonky and said child was waking up at 2 a.m. on a regular basis.

Well, the short answer is yes. You are condemned and you will never sleep all night again. I have not slept all night long in at least 32 years, since the birth of my first child. At first, because of the obvious. New baby and breast feeding and not ever being able to let a child cry it out. And, having a husband that could sleep through nuclear holocaust. I don't know if birthing a child triggered some sonar response, but if my baby whimpered, I was wide awake. And, once awake, I was often up for good.

This pattern of waking up in the wee hours of the morning has continued to this day. About the time first child started sleeping all night, along comes baby #2! Same sonar waking me up at the first hint of imagined distress. As time passed, it was bad dreams, a sick child, a meowing cat, a train passing through town, or police siren that would wake me up. And let's not forget Snoring, with a capital S. And not just husband's snoring, which can be quite impressive, but my own as well. I started snoring early in life, probably as young as 6 or 7. I remember my dad coming in my room one night to wake me up because I was snoring so loud that the only family member able to sleep through it was my profoundly deaf brother.

I would snore so loud that I would wake my self up at night. This issue just got worse the older and fatter I got. Throw in early menopause (not one period since 44 years of age -TMI, sorry!) and I have a deeply ingrained crappy sleep pattern. I've done a sleep study, and yes, I have sleep apnea. And yes, I have the ultra attractive C-Pap apparatus that is supposed to fix whatever structural issues I have that causes me to snore like a freight train by forcing a constant air pressure through my sinus cavities. But, I hate using it. Not only is it hideous, I still wake up after about 4 hours of sleep. So, it generally collects dust bedside.

So, after a lifetime of not being able to stay asleep, now, I just don't. I generally have little trouble going to sleep. I just feel like it's been a good night if I sleep 5 hours without waking up. Now, I sleep anywhere from 2 to 5 hours, am awake a few hours, then sleep really hard for another 2 hours. Thankfully, I am retired and my second sleep session doesn't generally interfere with a work day. My schedule now is much more flexible. Which is way better than when I had to be at work.