Heirlooms - or horsefeathers?

Me, I'm not normally given to 'signs' or 'tugs' from the universe.  
I sure don't discount their existence.  It's just, that stuff happens to other folks.

Before anyone goes getting excited, I'm not talking about seeing long-deceased, line-dancing ancestors.   

Instead, a mundane activity in which lots of us find ourselves unwilling participants:   Deciding what family 'heirlooms' to save, what to release.

For a while now, I've felt it's time to purge.  
Still, I was doing a pretty good job of ignoring our guest-room closet - whose contents challenge anyone to hang more than 1-2 articles of clothing.  

Then, in the space of a few days came a proverbial 'kick' ... and another.  Followed by another:
  
As is custom, the other morning I grabbed a random Unity cassette from the hodgepodge to 'pump me up' while preparing for the day.   Titled Heirlooms, my former minister was speaking about those sometimes silly, inanimate objects we hang onto - which really have no value - except in our hearts.   Her turning point came when a trusted friend sat alongside as she examined the contents of one box, then another.   Each time the friend asked, "Does that mean anything to you?"

That evening an inspiring e-mail arrived, improbably titled, 'Learning to travel lighter.'

... and the morning after that?  Both my go-to radio stations were playing something I didn't care for, so I hit the button for a frequency I used to enjoy.  The hosts'  were soliciting listener's feedback, asking, "What is something you will never get rid of?"

I don't know about you, but I'm probably holding onto lots of stuff out of some weird sense of obligation.  I've already tossed some hundred matchbooks and swizzle sticks - keeping those whose logos still evoke a smile.   They'll probably mean little to my granddaughters, but meanwhile they don't take up a lot of room.

Perhaps I should consider an Etsy shop like my blog buddy, Kim.   Or Instagram akin to Martha's spot in the sun.    You think?

Candidates for the chopping block

That with which I'll never (ever) part?  
I know this is long, but I'd really like to show you few of my favorite heirlooms.

No, this isn't my wine-glass! 

I remember little from our 1957 European excursion, but do recall my father refusing to let the folks at StadtKeller ship his 3-liter glass boot.

Instead he carried it by hand throughout the rest of the tour, then across the Atlantic, and finally via Greyhound back to New Mexico.

 

Know what?  Throughout all my moves, I've done the same.   

 

Grandma Willer gifted a set of these to my parents for their wedding ...

then was enormously appalled when she discovered the 'nekked lady' engraved on each of the delicate glasses.

Once I turned 13 y/o, one of these 

appeared alongside my own dinner plate each Sunday!

 

Silly old wooden bowl now sits atop my refrigerator,

but used to be the dedicated repository for S&H green stamps,

 

 

 

So, I've got to ask.    

Besides photographs, what's something you will never, ever get rid of?

 

 

Hugs from (rainy) Phoenix!

Myra

 

 

 

 



Let's hear it for the hose!

From an early age I was besotted by my mother's silk stockings. 
On road trips I'd position myself 'just so' in the little cavity beneath the glove box and run my hand up and down her stockinged calves until sleep came.  

I could hardly wait for my very own pair!
Lordy, reaching that milestone made me feel like 100 bucks!
Never mind that my nerdy 14-y/o self wobbled like crazy in my first hose- n'-heels get-up.
I'd arrived!   

To complete the ensemble, certain accessories were in order.

To the best of my knowledge, no-one I knew was permitted to own one of these.

Instead, our mothers consulted with the matriarch of all things lingerie at Clement & Benner. 
An appraising once over ... a nod ... then old Mrs. Benner would pull open a narrow drawer and carefully present a tissue-wrapped GIRDLE for inspection.
I was mesmerized.  







While I've difficulty recalling the advent of pantyhose, I soon became addicted.  I loved the way they kept my legs cool in the summer, and toasty warm in the winter.  I even wore them under blue jeans!

Fast-forward to 2002.   July, to be exact ...my introduction to Phoenix:
Clad in a navy business suit, nylons and heels, I must have been quite an apparition out there on the interview circuit.  
 (Those familiar with our 110-degree summer days and super-casual business attire may well be laughing aloud.)

Loathe to change my stripes, I continued to wear 'panty-nylons' (DH's term) for another few years before caving.

Imagine my surprise last Fall, when I happened on an old piece of luggage containing two dozen pair of L'eggs!   Woo-hoo!

Unfortunately, I'd quite forgotten the art of putting them on! 
Then came the ugly realization I was trying to squeeze 20 pounds that weren't there before into the unforgiving silk.   Yes, I hopped up and down.  
.....And yes, I swear those darn dogs were giggling.

Obviously, I need to pick up my game, shed some most of this unnecessary weight and start using those L'eggs again.  

'Casual' is all well and good -- but I can't help feeling better about myself in heels and hose.  








I'm curious!  
Ladies, are nylons still in vogue in your part of the country?

How about the fellows?
.... Do you care one way or another? 

As always, hugs from Phoenix!

Going to the dogs!

Gosh, it's hard to believe a year has passed since our lives were turned upside down by two wee pieces of fur.  

Some may recall, I lost my precious Caraleigh in March '13 ... then Tom was diagnosed with lung cancer 5 weeks later.
  
When well-meaning friends recommended we adopt a puppy, I'm sure mine was a mirthless laugh.   No interest.  Ever.

Still, they persevered ... assuring me it would be great therapy to boost DH's spirits while he battled chemo and depression.  

So we listened.
....and I believed Tom when he said, 'We'll just look.'

Who was he kidding?
We both fell .... for different puppies.   Unable to arrive at a decision I remember saying, 'Let's get both.  How much trouble can that be?'

 

The litter mates - Macie and Grace - were adorable.  And yes, Tom's attitude did a real 180.   He'd lay for hours on the floor laughing out-loud as 'da girls' climbed all over his chest ... struggling to gain purchase on his head.

The oncologist was thrilled by the results of his next PET scan.

Unfortunately, I was ill-prepared for the pups' energy -- and total disregard for discipline.   While Caraleigh had been the Perfect pup, these impostors seemed bent on destruction.   

Cute Kong toys and bones were ignored in favor of

... unraveling the living-room carpet

... excavating furniture 

... gnawing on baseboards

... and swallowing inanimate objects.

 

Their developing personalities were so different!   DH has always called little Grace, 'the snuggler.'  In fact, her latest report card states, 'Grace just wanted love and attention, and that's what she got.'
On the other hand, Macie's a clown.  Her report reads, 'Rebel without a cause.'   Yup. 

Not wanting to risk emotional involvement, I kept them at arm's length.  
... and waited for the day Tom would come to his senses, agreeing to find them a new home.

Funny, but life has a way of turning the tables.   You know how cigarette smoke always seems to float directly towards the one person in a room who suffers from allergies?  
First Grace, then Macie developed this crazy attachment to me.

I tried to ignore their overtures.  In the name of all things Caraleigh, I did.   It seemed so disloyal to love again.  

But cracks began to form.
Recently when we took the girls to be boarded, Grace began to shiver -- almost violently, and clung to my neck. 
... and I couldn't keep that darn wall up any longer.

No, they're not Caraleigh.   

But I'm learning to love Grace (left) and Macie (right)

for the rapscallions they are.

You might say, I've grown accustomed to her face!

 

 

Have yourselves a wonderful weekend ...

Hugs from Phoenix!

 

   

 

 

  

 

Looking for Mayberry

 

Happy September, everyone!
...and to those fortunate enough to witness the beginnings of Autumn, won't you inhale deeply on my behalf?  

I so hope everyone enjoyed a satisfying holiday weekend?  
Used to be, I'd regard any 3-day weekend as an excuse to hit the road. For example, on a whim I once traveled from Abilene, TX to Vail, CO in a roadster with no a/c, 'just because' someone offered us the use of their picturesque cabin.    
... and I suppose it was that very weekend I began to grow up -- when, on the way home, exhaustion set in and I started 'seeing things' on the lonesome highway south of Lubbock.

For a host of reasons I've been reluctant to stray too far from home these last few years.  Still, the idea of having of 5 unfettered days off -- not to mention my growing 'itch' to change course -- resulted in last week's getaway to the picturesque Verde Valley.  

Stock image

Now, I never properly said Thank You! to all who offered suggestions regarding my wanting to downsize.   Each of your insights was really valued.  Really!  
Sadly, I have to admit (that) while DH and I are wholly committed to one another, if we were to try and coexist in an RV bloodshed might come of it.  (JK!!!)    

Actually, Jon's mention of a mobile/manufactured home began to make the most sense.   
... and we began visualizing just that sort of abode, situated in one of my favorite spots in the state.   A Field Trip was in order!

Not coincidentally, one of my favorite blog-pals lives in the Verde Valley and I was more than a little excited when Mary and her hubby invited us to meet them for breakfast.    I'm not particularly fond of the over-used term, 'exceed your expectations' ... but that's exactly what happened!   Mary is as genuine and caring an individual as you'd ever want to meet, and her handsome hubby just cracked us up with his stories!

As with any 'first steps', many of my presumptions about real-estate were WAY off-key.   After all, Cottonwood lies practically in the shadow of Sedona.    
Still, everyone we encountered just exuded this openness and warmth I'd not witnessed since having lived in West Texas.    I can seriously envision our living in its neighboring community of Clarkdale ... which I (not-so-privately) christened, 'Mayberry.'   
...see what I mean? (Stock images borrowed from 'Bing.')


I'm not sure if you can spot them, but I adore those olden homes' front porches!

Yes, they still pump your gas and check the oil!  Love!!!!!



For a myriad of reasons, we're in no position to make a move right now.  God willing and careful choices, I hope we're but a couple of years away.
Is anyone interested in purchasing a gently-used home in Goodyear, AZ?  LOL! 

Sorry to have rambled on and on.   Can you tell, I'm excited?   It's been a while I've felt that way ... and gosh, but it feels good.

Hugs from Phoenix!

PS - I've almost 44 hours remaining before Real Life intrudes, and I plan to spend a big chunk of it blog-hopping.   I've missed you!