After spending months trying to find a good swim teacher, I had an
epiphany. Ladies, if I am ever about to drown, in the 3 seconds before I
go under, I am going to pretend I have no morals and that your husband
is super hot and I am going to ask for his Text Free number. It will be
just a ploy to get him to save my life. Trust me. The moment I am on dry
land, I will thank YOU profusely then bake you some cookies and offer
to help you do the laundry. It's not really that easy to find a good
swim teacher for someone over the age of 5 (seriously). I decided it
would just be quicker and less time consuming to make myself extremely
visible to any man who is near than to actually spend more hours
trying to find the right teacher. In the time it takes me to learn to
swim, your husband could just save me. Life is short, I am not going to
waste it in a pool of toddler pee. Watching Dateline and 20/20 have
pretty much taught me that there will suddenly be a man around any time a woman acts
needy. If my husband saves you, you
better send me some cookies and offer to do the laundry. It's the new
I still can't swim, and that is fine. One more thing moved off my to-do list and added to the Don't Bother list. I feel so much better.
[I should probably find some adult sized floaties, for you know, just in case.]
I've been sending my niece a postcard or card every week. Sometimes it's
twice a week, if we go somewhere where they have postcards. It seems
kind of weird to send hand-written notes now when we are so used to the
instantness of text messages and email. But, I imagine her walking all
the way across campus to her mailbox and finding it empty.Nobody likes
an empty mailbox when you are at the age when the mailbox is about love
letters not bills. She's still at the age where the mail box is about
magic. When Karen and I were in college (and until she just could not
write anymore), our Nana would send us letters weekly. They were always
typed with the cursive ball in the typewriter on stationary with her
name on it (or just a 'D") and signed "love, your nana" in pen at the
bottom. She would tell us what she was making, cooking, everything her
friends were doing. She always included detailed instructions on how to
do things like make a duvet cover out of sheets or how to make grilled
cheese sandwiches with just our iron if that was all we had. I saved all
her letters and followed her instructions when needed. We loved her
letters and love to re-read them. It's like she is here with us.
When our mom went off to college and got married shortly thereafter,
Nana made her a cookbook. We found the cookbook in parts in mom's
belongings when we were packing up her home after she died. I never knew
about the cookbook but I could tell it was a labor of love from a
mother to her daughter. It was primarily recipes from Nana and her
sister, and below each typed recipe it is written either "from Mommy" or
"from Auntie Gertie." Mixed in with the recipes are basic instructions
like how to scramble and egg or bake a potato. Nana and Auntie Gertie
wanted to be sure mom had all the information she would need to make a
meal. It makes me teary to look at the pages from the cookbook because I
know exactly how Nana and her sister were feeling and how happy they
were to share these important recipes with their daughter and niece.
I don't know why my mom took apart the cookbook but after gathering all
the loose pages, I have put it back together. It's like a little gift
from beyond! If we ever need to know how to make a 1950's type jello mold, we are good!
I have been finding it much easier to post my journal pages on instagram lately. My instagram name is colormetrue if you would like to follow along there. I have many stories I want to write here-still-but time keeps abandonding me. It especially abandons me on days when I sit down for just a second and wake up 2 hours later. The forties are so good! I can't wait for my 50's!
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