Moving On!

 Time for new beginnings. Check out my website for blog posts and more! 

notafraidofbeige.com

Beginning

Ten years ago I had the urge to write. At the time, I did not know why or how or where. I just knew I had to start. I stared at my computer and began typing out a sad little story about a shiny object in a parking lot. Mercifully, I spared you the results of that moment. I decided to try my hand at blogging even though I had read very few blogs and I had NO idea what I was doing (not sure that has changed much). I am an old-school girl and prefer my linguistic fixes in hard copy, please. Blogging was a new frontier for me so I began by researching my way through recipe blogs, political blogs, angry blogs, cutesy blogs, mommy blogs and blogs about blogs, wondering whether such nonsense was a good fit for me. For better or worse, I wrote my first piece and hit the post button, believing it might be a one-and-done moment.  Three hundred posts later I can honestly state that my first post was not my last. 

I cringe a bit as I look through my posts over the years. I want to re-write, edit, delete and question my sanity for some of them. Some were sad. Some were happy. Most often, they were somewhere in between. I cannot say I had an express goal for my blog but I did have a few promises I tried to keep for each piece. 

1) Limit the rant.--I have read enough social media writing to know that rants are popular. Name a topic and I am sure you can find a post that skewers it, from both sides. While this can be entertaining at times, I prefer moments with less sandpaper. Certainly, my posts are not opinion-free, but, I attempt to keep the screaming to a minimum.

2) Ditch the ads.--My blog is not a business, therefore, I have the luxury of keeping it ad-free. I am sure all of us have experienced the frustration of reading an on-line post that is so fraught with pop-ups and big-brother ads that one is forced to abandon ship before finishing the post. My brain is unable to chase too many squirrels at one time so ad-free it must be. 

3) Keep it real.--I do not live a life of dazzling Instagrammable moments. In fact, I am often reminded that I live a life of JOMO, joy of missing out. I am not afraid of experiencing the everyday and it doesn't bother me to ignore the world of social media influencers. I will never be the one who lives a life of wild abandonment and I am okay with that. 

It is time to reveal my final promise to you, drum roll please. I will not be writing any more blog posts on this site. At the nudging of my sweet daughter who often gently reminds me that it is time for a much needed refresh, I am moving my material to a new website. Gone, for now, will be my wonky photos but I am adding a variety of content for a wider range of reading options. I have been posting my recent blogs on both sites as I worked toward transition. 

And, as usual, I have no particular end game in mind. I am going to trust the process and see where it takes me. Thank you for being a part of my last ten years of posting. I hope you will check out my new website and continue to stop by whenever you need a dose of beige. 

Here is the link to my new site, notafraidofbeige.com

Photo from my first blog post.
Case in point for abandoning my photography efforts.

The Chase

My sister-in-law and I have a tradition of dining out once a week during the summer months. It began when I was teaching full time and summer was our opportunity to catch up with each other. We often adopted a theme for our summer escapades such as all ethnic restaurants or we selected eateries located in a certain area of the city. We have experienced hits and misses but without a doubt, all our choices have been an adventure. We lost a whole summer last year due to the wicked C-19. We are now vaxxed and ready to bust out of exile.

Our theme this summer is a stretch for us. We are not looking for brick and mortar establishments, rather, we are chasing the wheels. Food trucks to be precise. Although food trucks have been popular for quite some time in many regions, their trendiness is slowly gaining traction in our area. One truck serving tacos to the night crowd outside bars several years ago has grown to dozens of trucks roaming the streets, festivals and parking lots of our city. 

There is a learning curve with following food trucks. The biggest challenge is inherent in the nature of the beast. Trucks are mobile and finding their location on any given day is quite literally a moving target. Many of the food trucks in our area rely on Facebook postings. This can pose a bit of a hurdle for me as I long ago bailed out on this social media platform for a number of reasons. I am able to view Facebook postings without logging in but it comes with a maize of pop-ups and blocks and getting kicked off during longer sessions. Fortunately, I found a one-stop-shop FB group for many of our local trucks so that has become my guide for now. I am learning to check the postings frequently as they can change on a moment's notice. 

Our first food truck visit came about because I saw one on a street corner as I was running errands. Further research noted that this truck is somewhat stationary so it was an easy one to track down. Their specialty is Mexican cuisine so it was tacos for my sister-in-law and nachos for me. They had a couple of picnic tables with a canopy so our dining experience was comfortable and tasty. A good start to our food truck research.

We are learning a few things as we continue our chase. 

1) Carry a beverage of choice.--Often the drink options are limited so we tote our own water to accompany our meals. I do not like soda so I like to be prepared just in case.

2) Make a seating plan.--Many food trucks have few or no options for seating. I am not comfortable sitting on sidewalks or curbs. Eating in the car feels claustrophobic so that option is out. We now identify parks near the food truck and settle ourselves into a picnic shelter for our dining experience. We are discovering new parks in the process which makes it win-win.

3) Bring a roll of paper towels.--I am a messy eater and I often forget to pick up enough napkins to have respectable dining in the outdoors. We use the paper towels as placemats, napkins and clean up rags. 

We are early into our food truck chase but we are committed to experiencing as many as we can this summer. It is time to give back to the folks who fought hard to stay in business this past year and I am only too happy to get out of the kitchen on a hot day.

 

 

On Location

I am writing this post on location, Memorial Day weekend.  It is 49 degrees, breezy and cloudy. I would like to report I am near a crackling campfire with a beautiful lake view as I wait for a marshmallow to be toasted to the perfect golden hue for an ooey gooey smores bar. In reality, my freezing fingers are tapping away on my keyboard in my garage, waiting for the possible arrival of customers at our rummage sale, day three. My coffee mug continues to get icy cold and the coffee cake is long gone. It is difficult to write with mittens on so I do brief warm-ups in my coat pocket. My co-conspirators in this project are not available yet so it is just me and my computer until the action begins. 

I do not remember the last time we had a garage sale but I know it was many moons ago. The stars aligned this year and we decided to take the plunge again. My husband and I are in varying stages of retirement as are my brother-in-law and sister-in-law. The goal for all of us is to organize, downsize and generally distance ourselves from the stuff we no longer need. The I-might-need-this-someday items are ready to see their last days with us. Time for a sale.

So, a date was set. The garage was cleaned. Boxes of treasures were unpacked and priced. The cash box was dusted off. Neon poster paper was purchased. Signs were made. Display tables were assembled using sawhorses and old doors. Items were arranged to maximize their value. Coffee cups were refilled. And finally it was go-time, no turning back.

Many lessons can be learned from rummage sales. The first is that there is something for everyone. The once popular scrapbooks we had for sale remained in a dormant state until the second day of our sale. A sweet little girl immediately saw the two scrapbooks and picked them with a sense of loving purpose. When she asked her dad if she could have them, he agreed. I saw the girl's creative gears begin to spin and I have no doubt she will have hours of fun with them. 

Another lesson is that sentimental attachments can be stronger than the practical need to purge. My husband had a set of plastic horses from his youth. The horses had little snap-on saddles and different cowboys for the horses. He had hours of fun with them and just looking at them brought back a flood of good memories. Obviously, Trigger and Silver are no longer needed in our household so the wise thing to do was to add them to our display tables. With hesitation, he put a fairly robust price on the set and I am sure he was secretly hoping they wouldn't sell. On the second day, two adorable little boys with big brown eyes picked up the horses and were given the greenlight by their dad. My husband watched as the young lads made the purchase and excitedly ran to their car. Both of us knew the horses would ride again and that is how it should be. 

The final lesson for me was simply this. Many people are nice. We had interesting conversations with a wide variety of folks. We re-connected with our neighbors and met a few new ones. We poured a cup of coffee for a couple of long time friends who stopped by and we enjoyed catching up. And, despite the rain, cold, wind and clouds, each customer proclaimed a love for treasure hunting. 

Speaking of customers, they are beginning to arrive. Time to refill my coffee cup and switch into sales mode. I still have hopes my harvest gold Bundt pan will find a new home.

Bundt pan update: It is still for sale.

 

Anticipation

Planting tender garden flora in the springtime is always a game of Russian Roulette in the upper plains. Our finicky temperatures can be down right hot for a spell, luring us into an early planting session. Days later, the weatherman starts squawking about freezing temperatures during the evening hours. The seed babies under the ground usually fare quite well as long as they haven't poked their heads above the soil level. The seedlings, however, need temperate conditions to get their little bodies acclimated to their new environment. 

My husband is a master gardener and I give no advice other than suggestions for the vegetables I want to work with for the upcoming season. He has a favorite greenhouse that is about a forty minute drive from our house. I usually do not go with him because my ability to focus on all that greenery is rather short-lived. This year I decided to accompany him in desperation for an outing. After a year of isolation, it is time to take baby steps back into reality. The drive to the greenhouse is through the countryside so the scenery is always pleasant. 

My plan at the greenhouse is straightforward. Follow my husband around just long enough to look interested. Upon reaching the herbs I make a few suggestions as I check out the different types available and enjoy sniffing their different fragrances. After that burst of interest, I usually notice my husband getting lost in what I call his "garden zen". He has his nose buried in the plants, carefully selecting just the right seedlings for a hardy start to our garden. Soon enough, it is time for my exit and I head to our vehicle where I am prepared for an hour or two of waiting. It was a beautiful day so I rolled down my windows to take advantage of a comfortable breeze. I was prepared with plenty of reading material, a bottle of water and a few snacks. 

There is also a fair amount of people watching for entertainment as well. My favorite was the older gentleman who was stationed by the entrance of the greenhouse. His job was to make sure the plant carts were ready for the shoppers. This job seemed to be perfect for him. Nothing too physical but plenty of human interaction. I heard him say he was 89 years old and I found myself hoping I might be fortunate enough to have my wits about me at that age. My guess is that his job was flexible enough for him to come and go as he wished. Not a bad gig.

One characteristic all the shoppers seemed to share was a general sense of joy and anticipation. I do not always witness this in other retail settings. I may personally experience some joy as I put a bag of Cheetos in my grocery cart, but as a general rule, my shopping is often a git-'er-done experience. It was refreshing to see so many folks excited about their purchases. 

The amazing element in the whole greenhouse process is the risk factor. If I buy a can of beans, I have a high likelihood of enjoying them with a meal at some point. A bean plant, however, is facing a number of challenges before ever producing a single bean. Hail, drought, soil, insects, fungus, rabbits and birds are just a few characters in the on-going drama of gardening. But, any gardener or, in my case, harvester can tell you that the final show is work the risk. I am already salivating over the first plate of fresh beans and sliced red tomatoes. 

Happy gardening!

 

Things that Suck

My vacuum cleaner died last week. This should not be newsworthy but it was the first vacuum I have ever liked. And it was less than a year old. It was also from a well-respected company in the world of vacuum choices.  Let me be clear. I hate to vacuum. I have said many times that if I die and wake up in a room with a vacuum cleaner and a dust rag, I know where I went for the after life. I have used many vacuum cleaners over the course of my cleaning life. Shop Vacs, Kirbies, Hoovers, Eurekas, Dustbusters, Orecks, and Bissells to name a few. There were canisters, uprights, handhelds, bagless and bags for styles. All of them had their issues and a few had glimmers of hope. 

One of the worst vacuums I used was at a great-aunt's house when I was a teenager. She had hired me to help her clean her house due to a health issue. I didn't have the heart to tell her she should probably spend her money on someone who knew what they were doing. She patiently showed me how to operate her Rainbow canister vacuum, circa 1970. It was supposed to be state-of-the-art, cutting edge technology. Yipes, what a horrendous beast. The canister pan at the base had to be filled with water and great care was needed while one moved around the room with the sloshing pan. Once the canister's water was sufficiently full of collected debris, the sludge water had to be disposed of and the process began again. Poke my eyes out, it was a good thing that cleaning gig was short-lived. 

Another vacuum nemesis was a cast-off machine we received from a family member. The vacuum should have come with a disclaimer: Do not use if you are unable to lift fifty pounds of dead weight. It was an unwieldy monster and it made the job of cleaning even more distasteful. At the time, this brand of vacuum was considered a premier cleaning device but I was less than impressed with its capabilities, not to mention the back ache caused by lugging it around. Needless to say, we never purchased one of our own and sold the clunker at a garage sale, deeply discounted.  

One little picker-upper that I found manageable for small jobs was the ubiquitous little Hokey carpet sweeper, no cords or charging needed. It isn't meant for major cleaning jobs but it does the trick when cleaning up after church potlucks and Sunday School craft projects. I am always fascinated with its ease and efficacy. And the price is right. 

In some weird way, I can also appreciate a Shop Vac. It can take whatever is thrown its way. Messy construction job sites, no problem. Long overdue car cleanup, bring it on. Basement flooding, job is done. Its durability is spot on and its ability to juxtaposition water and electricity is a modern marvel. We will always have one (or two) at the ready in our garage.

Finally, back to the vacuum that just died. Due to its young age and the fact that I actually registered the vacuum on the company's website at the time of its purchase, I thought it would be a slam dunk for a quick follow up. Without naming names, it is to-date the worst customer service I have received. I have yet to speak with a human being and the e-mail response I received said they would not be able to handle my request at this time "due to high customer volume." A series of "troubleshooting texts" was less than helpful and the end result may or may not be a new part. It is difficult to resist the obvious. Their vacuum isn't sucking but their customer service is another story. 

Time to buy a Hokey. No batteries, cords or heavy lifting needed. 

One of several inherited vacuums,
also headed to the next garage sale.

The Wave

Sporting events are know for lots of energy and activities that promote spectator involvement. One such activity came on the scene several decades ago and occasionally happens today. It is called The Wave. Spectators begin a stand-up-and-wave action that, if done correctly, creates a wave-like action with all the stadium attendees. The genesis story of this particular activity is murky but it is believed to have begun at soccer games in Mexico. The U.S. picked up on it and it became a bit of a sensation in the 80's. I do not attend enough sporting events to be an expert on the subject but I can say I have participated in a few during my lifetime. 

I currently participate in my own version of The Wave. During the exile period of the wicked C-19, I found myself occasionally waving as a form of affirmation or acknowledgement. Gratefully, the isolation is easing to a degree but I am still waving at entities that make me smile.

We live near an elementary school as well as a bus stop for middle-schoolers which means we have several buses drive by our house each school day. Every time I see a bus go by my living room window, I give the bus a big wave. I doubt any of the passengers ever see me, but I love the feeling of sending good wishes their way as they embark on another day of education and as they return home, ready for a snack and some decompression time. As a former educator, I am so grateful for the dedicated professionals who work at helping each student have a good day at school. You deserve a wave.

The library I frequent is across the street from one of our city's swimming pools. The pool was eerily quiet last summer due to you-know-what. At the beginning of this year I began waving at the empty pool each time I made a trip to the library. I long for the day when the noise of laughing and splashing return. Lifeguards are saints as they enforce safety rules, endure the glare of relentless sunshine and encourage reluctant children during swim class. Our city is opening the pools this summer and they are in need of more lifeguards. I wave as a sign of support and good wishes for a full deck of employees. They deserve a wave. 

The final wave might surprise those of you who know me. Our backyard neighbors have two Golden Labrador dogs. They are in kennels for the majority of day with occasional romps in their yard so they can do their business. I am certainly not a dog lover but their kennel enclosures make them safe canines for me. When I open or close the window in our bedroom, the dogs often lift their heads and look my way. In some weird way I felt a kinship with them during the past year as I, too, was spending lots of time within an enclosure. I started waving at them whenever they looked my way as a moment of solidarity we could share together. I am not sure the dogs deserved a wave but it made me smile, so, good enough. 

I remember lots of waving in the small town I grew up in. There were few strangers in our world and it was nice to acknowledge others in a positive way. I am going to continue my waving as it always gives me a mood boost. Find someone or something to wave at this week and enjoy the moment!