The joy of having enough

I am reminded for the eight hours per week that I volunteer with the State how blessed I am. Being so regularly reminded of my blessings is blessing in itself—it keeps me from getting complacent, from staying in my head too much, from assuming that everything is alright. Everything is SO not alright.

What I do at my volunteer job is to answer the main phone line for people who need help with food, medical insurance, housing, bills, etc. I do this job for 8 hours per week (two four-hour days). My coworker, Kathy, does it for the other 32 hours of the week when I'm not there. When I leave after 4 hours on the phones, my heart is heavy from hearing such sad stories and I feel drained. I don't know how Kathy does it for 8 hours a day. I could not.

Women call me crying because they have nothing to feed their children, and no money to buy food. People call me, freezing, because they cannot pay their heating or electric bills. Some are limited in job hunting or keeping a job because they cannot afford a vehicle…or they have a vehicle and can’t afford to put gas in it or to pay to get it out of the repair shop when something goes wrong with it. Some have been put out of their home due to foreclosure or eviction and call me, terrified, after spending their first night in a homeless shelter. Parents feel sad and helpless because they cannot afford to buy their children Christmas gifts.

Many people will judge those in such circumstances. They'll say these people are lazy, that they don’t want to work, that they won’t do what it takes to help themselves. Is this true of some of these people? Yes, I'm afraid it is. Is this true of all of them? Absolutely not!

There are people asking for help now who have never even thought of needing to do so before. The company they worked for went under and they lost their job (along with any benefits, such as health insurance, that may have come with it). They got sick, had no health insurance, and were driven into debt by the staggering hospital and doctor bills (and instead of being able to rest and take care of themselves once they’re out of the hospital, they have to scrabble to figure out how to stay afloat—how to keep from losing their house, etc.).

Before Missy came into my life two months ago, I was visiting the local SPCA weekly to see if I could help a dog escape euthanization (our SPCA is a kill shelter). In the weeks just before I got Missy, a third to a half of all the dogs in my local SPCA were surrenders--dogs that had been voluntarily turned over to the SPCA by their owners either because they could no longer afford to feed them or because the owners had lost their home.

Even some of my closest friends and family members are being hit hard by this economic downturn. My older brother just closed his home building business after 20+ years in operation. Several of my closest friends are struggling financially.

Things are bad. Really, really bad. Appreciate the joy of having enough. Recognize your blessings. And, if you're able, reach out to those who are struggling--either by giving of your time or your money. 'Tis the reason for the season, baby.

The joy of change

I have lived alone for many years. When you live alone for a long time, you get used to doing what you damn well please when you damn well please--for the most part, anyway. My routine got turned upside down 6 1/2 weeks ago when I adopted Missy, my Shih Tzu puppy. Now, there are Sheri's routines and there are Missy's routines and sometimes they clash, so Sheri's needs sometimes must take a back seat to Missy's.

Change is sometimes uncomfortable or even painful, but it is most often for the good. For a long time, I have tended to be too selfish, and caring for another living thing is helping me change that (and in return, of course, she gives me gobs of love and affection).

Since I am retired now, I have had the luxury of avoiding going outside when it is unpleasant--raining, snowing, extremely cold or windy--but living in a condo with a puppy, I no longer have this luxury. The dog must be walked. Change.

Between her energy, her friendliness and her "Nosy Nora" nature, Missy asks to out about every 2 hours. Naive me, I thought a dog asking to "go out" meant "I have to go potty." But, with Missy, sometimes it means "There is neighbor outside and I want to go say hi!" or "The Verizon man is across the street working on the power and I want to go say hi!" or "Denise (the condo sales manager) is in her office and I want to go say hi!" or "I see leaves falling from the trees and I want to go chase them!" or "I see Lynx (the neighbor's cat) and I want to go play with her!" So now I know to say "no" to some of her requests, especially when it's pouring rain or freezing cold.

Anticipating those freezing cold early-morning walks, I went and bought a double-layer ski-type jacket. I hate the cold. But go out in the cold I must...and right out of a warm bed, too. Change! Now that I have learned proper bundling-up procedure for those morning walks and can actually be comfortable while I'm out there, I've come to enjoy them more. Not to say I'm going to encourage hour-long walks in the freezing cold, but I'm at least not grumbling anymore.

Fall and spring are my favorite times of year. My absolute favorite weather comes at these times--a beautiful sunny day where the sun is warm but the air has a fresh coolness. I have always disliked losing those beautiful fall days to cold, harsh winter--and even moreso now that I have to be outside a lot more than I used to--but the seasons are inevitable. Change.

And now we have a new President-elect. This is change I can smile about!

The joy of being one

I have been single and unattached for the majority of my adult life. This has been especially true of the last eleven years, since L. moved to California. L. was a man whom I found captivating and frustrating in nearly equal measure (he was as close to the human equivalent of the Star Trek character, Spock, as I'd ever met). Ironically, before I met L., I had wished for a man who was as comfortable with solitude as I; L. was that--in fact, he was probably even more solitary a person than I--but I found it wasn't nearly so enviable a thing to have once I had it (funny how that happens, eh?). I loved him intensely, but I knew that he wasn't a man that I could be with for the rest of my life. When he moved to California, I was heart-broken, and yet I also knew it was probably for the best. L. and I are still friends to this day. He is now married.

I'm just fine with being one, but I wasn't always. I spent my 20s in bars with my best friend B, who was outgoing, flirtatious, built like a brick shithouse and, okay, let's be honest, easy. Men flocked to B. like flies on shit. I was cute, but I couldn't compete with that--I was an old-fashioned Ohio girl! I attracted my share of guys, but I had absolutely no luck at having relationships; at that time, that is what I wanted more than anything.

In my late 20s, I went through a spell where I would go out with B. and come home having met no one. I was despondent about it, because I was still locked in that quaint American mindset that I was supposed to be married by that age (this was the 70s). I became so unhappy, in fact, that I dropped out of dating entirely during much of my 30s and instead hung out with my new (at that time) gay guy friends. It may sound like a pathetic cop-out for a straight girl in the prime of her dating life, but it was one of the most joyous times of my life. I was able to go out, dance and have copious amounts of fun without the pressure of "Is someone going to ask me to dance? Will someone find me attractive? Will someone ask for my number?" I received unconditional love from my gay friends and I didn't have to be anyone but myself.

In my 40s, I found that I was no longer attracted to men my age or older as I had been in my 20s. I dated younger men during this time (which is when I met L., who was 13 years younger than I), but found that--except for L., who was intellectually and emotionally much older than his years--most of them weren't very interesting to talk to. It was in my 40s that I finally came to peace with the concept of being one. Perhaps I just wasn't meant to be paired, I reasoned, and what is so wrong with that? If it was meant to happen, it would; why spend precious time and energy worrying about it?

One of the joys of being one--at least for me--is that you become more comfortable with being with yourself (i.e., not always needing other people to enjoy yourself) and you learn more about who you are and what makes you tick. In my 40s, I definitely developed a clarity about who I was, what I wanted and what I didn't want--and I was no longer afraid of expressing that (I was an absolute wallflower in my 20s, so this was new ground for me). I learned to appreciate solitude--and eventually to require it.

One of the frustrations of being one--at least for me--is that most people have no concept for what it's like to be one. Since most people are paired and filter what they see through their own experiences, feelings and fears, people who are terrified of being alone tend to either treat me like a leper (I have been at the movie theatre alone and had people stare and give me wide berth as if I might infect them with my oneness) or like some pathetic creature who needs their nurturing.

Case in point: Years ago, I once had lunch at a regular haunt near my workplace and was paid an incredible amount of positive attention by the beautiful young man who was my waiter. I was not so silly to think it was attraction, but I couldn't figure out his motivation (it seemed overkill for a good tip, esp. since I was already known there to be a good tipper). At the end of the meal, he presented me with my check and said "I'm sorry that you had to have lunch alone." Ah. A nurturer. I gave him a smile, put down my book, and explained to him that I didn't have to lunch alone--that the hour I spent with a good book and a good meal was my oasis in an otherwise very stressful workday--and that, though he may not understand it yet, there are people who actually enjoy being alone and that I was one of them.

Being one in a society that trumpets "pairedness" as not only the norm but "the way" isn't always easy...but it is who I am.

The joy of relief

This morning, I came terrifyingly close to losing my little girl--what I call the 10-month-old Shih Tzu puppy who I adopted two and a half weeks ago. Missy and I were out for our first walk of the morning and I was distracted. Just before we left home, I'd heard a neighbor (though not one I immediately recognized) out behind my house frantically calling a name over and over; I presumed that her dog had run off.

Missy and I went out to help with the search but, by the time we got out to where the lady had been, she had switched to her car and was driving around the property, too far away for us to catch up. Missy and I proceeded on our usual walk route, but I kept looking around to see if I could catch sight of the dog. It was bitterly cold and windy for an early fall morning, so I was also distracted by being physically uncomfortable as the wind battered me.

Suddenly, Missy took off in a strong run--aimed straight for the major highway near our house--and between the distractions and the fact that I was new to wearing gloves while yielding the leash, the leash handle pulled out of my hand when she hit the end of the lead. Missy was running full steam toward the rush hour traffic whizzing by at 50-60 MPH and the terrible image of her being hit by a car flashed through my brain.

In a flat-out panic, I screamed her name over the howling wind and passing traffic until finally she stopped and turned around to see what I was so excited about. Getting her attention was only half the battle--us being new to one another, there hasn't been enough time for me to train her adequately to come on command. So I cautiously advanced, knowing how much she loves to be chased, not wanting her to start running again. After several agonizing seconds that felt like forever, I got close enough to the leash handle to step on it and keep her from advancing into the road if she took off again.

Soon, I had the leash back in hand and we resumed our walk. I'm sure Missy had no idea how hard my heart was beating and how labored my breathing was as we headed back home. To her it was probably just another day of romping in the grass and smelling the flowers. For me, it was a terrifying lesson about how important it is to stay focused on her when we're walking. I am so thankful that my scary experience had a happy ending. I can only hope the same for my neighbor.

The joy of a perfect fall day

Some people think it's weird that I live at the beach and yet I haven't actually been on the beach for more than a few minutes since I moved here in January. I don't find it odd at all. I love living at the beach--I just don't happen to love it as much during the summer as I do during the spring and fall. One reason is that I don't tolerate heat and humidity as well anymore, especially when the water is so cold that I can't easily get in the ocean to cool off. Another is that, in the summer, everyone is on the beach, including hundreds of people who don't live here.

Years before I ever thought of living at the beach, spring and fall were my favorite seasons. My idea of a perfect day, weather-wise, is a bright spring or fall day when the sky is a clear blue with puffy white clouds, there is a light cool breeze, and the sun's warmth balances the coolness so that you can still be comfortable without a jacket. As a person who loves to walk for exercise and yet has a low tolerance for heat, a day like this--with a temperature around 65-70 degrees--is as close to perfection as it gets.

Many days of the past two weeks here have been just like that. It was perfect weather for the new puppy and I to become accustomed to walking together in our first two weeks together. I'm finding that she likes the same kind of days I do--as a Shih Tzu, she has a low tolerance for heat too, so we're well suited. She loves the cool breeze that comes in the window from the trees behind my house along with the sights and sounds of the open window--crickets, cicadas, birds, butterflies, etc.

The past few days have been gray and cloudy, topping out at 60 degrees with a fierce, chilling wind that made me think about pulling out my winter hat and gloves. Not only has it not been pleasant to walk the dog, but I have found myself bummed out by the recent cold front--it is a portent that my perfect fall days are soon to be over and winter is on its way--but first, the forecast says we will have some more (slightly chillier) perfect fall days to enjoy. Get outside and enjoy them while they last!

The joy of puppy love

Today is my birthday. I got an early birthday present that I wasn't expecting--a puppy. A friend recommended me as a potential adoptive mommy to friends of theirs--a family who is going through a health crisis and had made the difficult decision to give away their 9-month-old Shih-Tsu puppy, Missy, because they didn't feel they could continue to care for her in light of this new unfortunate circumstance in their lives. After a meeting with the owner and Missy on October 4, Missy came to live with me.

Physically, I have rarely felt so much my age as I have this week; and yet, emotionally, I have felt young and happy. There is nothing quite like the love of a puppy to make you smile all over. While I am not elated about having to get out of bed and take Missy outside before the sun is even up, this is more than balanced by the joy of being greeted by Missy upon awakening. She climbs on me and kisses my nose and snuggles for a few moments to give me a chance to wake up before we go out.


One of the most joyous parts of being a new puppy mommy is seeing the world anew through her eyes. Her first big adventure was visiting some of my favorite haunts--the boardwalk, Lake Gerar (aka "the pond") and the seawall. She was enthralled by the seagulls, fascinated by the smells (Thrasher's fries, pizza, cheese steaks, fudge, you name it) and enchanted by all the people she met. She could barely contain herself with all the sensory input and it was sometimes a challenge for me to keep her out of the way of cars, bicycles, joggers and tourists.


I will admit, there have been moments when I questioned my decision--she is needy, has horrible separation anxiety, doesn't know how to play without biting and jumps on everything and everyone--but then I look at her sweet face, see how smart she is and how well she is learning new behaviors in just a week and I know she's worth the effort. I see how the tip of her little baby tongue sticks out when she brings me her squeaky toy and there is no way I can't smile. I hear her little baby growl when she says "Come on, play with me!" or "I have to GO!" and I have to laugh...even when she is getting on my last nerve.....like right now! Gotta go!

The joy of a country road

I find it ironic that, now that I'm living in a small town, my commute is longer (by both driving time and mileage) than when I was living in the Washington DC area--an area known for protracted and headache-inducing commutes. A Sussex County Delaware commute and a Washington, DC or Alexandria, VA commute can be quite different animals. In the DC area, you can sit at traffic lights at what seems like every 50 feet. In Sussex County, I'm currently driving almost a half-hour one way to my volunteer job and I do not sit at ANY traffic lights (I do hit a few flashing red lights where I have to stop and look for traffic but, if the intersection is clear, I don't have to wait to proceed).

Since I began this volunteer gig in July, I had been looking for a "nicer" route to work. The obvious route from my town to that town is the one that all the tourists use to get to my town (a beach resort); it being the most obvious and direct route, it is used pretty heavily in both directions, especially during beach season. There are a number of traffic lights on this route (though nothing like driving through Alexandria).

I recently started using a more rural route which completely avoids that major state route and uses country roads. According to Google Maps, the rural route is actually longer by mileage than the other route, but I get there faster because there is much less traffic and many fewer traffic lights. But getting there faster is only one reason why I use this route.

I was driving home from my gig yesterday--the sun shining, the crops waving in the wind, the car windows open to welcome in the strong breeze--and I was smiling. It was like being back in Ohio (where I grew up), except that Sussex County is flat as a pancake and the part of Ohio I'm from was very hilly. The crops in the fields were looking bedraggled, but it was all still so beautiful to me and filled me with a simple joy. A ride in the country was an event where I'm from in Ohio (what the heck else was there to do?); in fact, it still is when my siblings and I make it back there. My mother will pile us all in the car and off we'll go. Maybe we'll go shopping in an Amish town or visit our old hometown or maybe we'll just drive--the sun shining, the blue sky dazzling, the trees dancing--and enjoy the simplicity of being home again.

A friend from the DC area was visiting last weekend and I took her to lunch a few miles out of town. As we were driving, there was a large herd of cows all standing clumped together under the trees at the edge of this huge field. I said to my friend "Now that's not something you see every day in Alexandria." We both laughed, and I told her about my adventures since moving here--seeing huge turkey buzzards right on the road (eating the roadkill) and seeing roosters walking along the edge of the road. It's definitely a different kind of scenery than I had for the 37 years I lived in the DC area--but I'm rather liking it.

The joy of a glorious sunset

I have had a fascination with sunrises and sunsets for much of my adult life. Maybe it stems from being a painter in my younger years, maybe it's the love of nature instilled in me as a child or maybe it's just because they're pretty. Lately, I have taken quite a few pictures of the sunset near where I live. A local company even asked to use this matted one on its website.

I never consciously think "Oh, it's about time for sunset; let me go see." What happens is that I will be walking from one part of my condo to the other and I'll catch a glimpse of color out of a window. I stop long enough to think about whether I'm wearing appropriate clothing to go outside in (because I often sit around the house in garb that is not appropriate to go outside in), then grab the camera and run out the door. Unfortunately, by the time I clear my building and get far enough down the street to get a good shot, most of the light and the best color of the sunset is gone, but I've still been able to get some nice shots.

Back when I was a regular visitor to this area and not yet a resident, I used to love to go to Lake Gerar (what I call "the pond") and write poetry or journal. For years, my favorite sunset picture was this one that I took there. The thing I loved about the pond is that it, though it was just steps from the beach, while you were sitting there soaking up the peace of the place, it felt like some sort of private retreat.

This one was taken from the patio of my apartment in Alexandria, VA where I lived for many years. I still get a little homesick when I see that skyline--I saw it daily for 32 years!

The one on the right was taken on Amelia Island in Florida at the fishing pier near Brett's Waterway Cafe, an excellent restaurant where I had my birthday dinner in 2006.

I am a big fan of the website Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/), a free photo-sharing website. You can go on there and search for just about any thing or any place in the world and find that someone has taken pictures of it. There are some amazingly talented photographers on Flickr. However, one trend in photography that I see there a lot which saddens me is all the digital trickery that is performed on photographs to make them look extra special, extra vivid, extra colorful, etc. To me, they end up looking surreal and, while they are often beautiful, they also look fake. I hate to get all sappy here, but I think God does a pretty good job of making sunsets (and just about everything else) beautiful without having to fiddle with it. As a result, none of my sunset photos are digitally enhanced in any way. I like to remember the real thing--the way I saw it with my own eyes. That's pretty special all by itself.

The joy of new experiences

While I was a big fan of putt-putt golf in my younger years, I never had a desire to play "real" golf; I thought that the only way to do that was to play on an expensive regulation 18-hole course where real golfers would be hurling curses at a totally green newbie like myself. A friend who is newly and passionately into golf told me about a Par 3 course near me that would be a great introduction to golfing. A par 3 course is a much easier, and smaller, course than those courses you see Tiger playing on TV. The cost is much more reasonable than a big course (this one was $13 per person), and they even had Sheri-sized clubs I could use. I thought "Why not? Aren't retired people supposed to golf?" :)


As with any new experience, there is a learning curve. Those first several holes, I was maxing out on strokes for every hole and not coming anywhere near par 3. My ball didn't even catch air until maybe the third or fourth tee--it's kind of hard to get to the green if you can't get your ball up in the air. :) I tend to be a perfectionist, so of course I was grumbling at myself every time my ball veered off course (though I only hit the trees once and never lost a ball). Because of my putt-putt history (though it's well in the past), I was generally better at putting than driving.

The experience reminded me of learning to bowl. I love to bowl, but I can be quite bad at it. I have a congenital bone defect in my arms that causes them to be off-angle at the elbow. It's not something you'd notice to look at me, but can be a challenge for me in carrying heavy objects or in sports or skills that require precision with your arms--like bowling, golf or billiards.

When I learned to bowl, I threw gutterball after gutterball until I learned to angle my body in a way that compensated for my "crooked" throwing arm. I started going through the same process the day I played golf for the first time, but it will take several more tries at golfing before I find "the sweet spot"--the right place to stand to get the ball to go where *I* want it to go.

Toward the end of the 9 holes (I figured 9 was enough for my first time!), I was really enjoying it and had improved in strokes. Did I ever get a par 3 in 9 holes? Hell, no! But I did get a couple of par 5s...and I was quite happy with that for my first time. It was good exercise and the course grounds are lovely (and thankfully shadier than most courses). I really enjoyed the experience and expect to be trying it again.

The joy of nesting

Before you get the wrong idea (oops, some of you already have), this has nothing to do with babies ("I don't know nothin' bout birthin' no babies, Miss Scarlett!"). People, please! :) When I say nesting, I mean making your house a home--filling it with things that you love, painting it, decorating it, mixing old things with new things--making it "you."

Until I moved into my current home this January, I had lived in rental apartments my entire life--I even grew up in one. I think that many folks are so driven to own their own home in early adulthood because they grew up in a house and they think of it as something you are supposed to do when you grow up. It's not that I wouldn't have liked to have owned a home at a younger age; but being single and living in a major metropolitan area where real estate was mind-blowingly expensive, a home that I would want and where I would want to live just was not within my financial grasp, even though I made a pretty good living.

Being a rule-following kind of gal, when my apartment lease said "No painting.", I didn't paint. Hence, my blog post on Labor Day about learning to paint a wall at age 55. A friend asked me "Why do you want to paint your bedroom? Do you not like white walls?" And my answer is that I forcibly lived with white walls my entire adult life; and, now that I own my own home and I can do with it what I damned well please (within limits), I want something other than white walls.

To update those who read that Labor Day post (The joy of independence), I did ask my friends for help in finishing the bedroom painting and it is now done. Mike is so experienced that he painted the whole darned room (2 coats) in the time it took me to tape, trim and paint just the alcove portion of the room (1 coat). I still helped--well, he may not have thought of it as helping, to be absolutely honest, but I wanted to be a part of the experience. I cut in around all the switchplates and did some of the painting around windows/doors/corners.

So once the bedroom paint was dry, I put all the furniture back, hung some new art and mirrors and did some decorating. Below is what the "new" bedroom looks like. Yea, I know, it still sorta looks like white walls, but it isn't. The color didn't come out exactly as shown on the paint card, but at least it's warmer than white walls. I was going for a light-but-rich cream color. It looks like that in some light, but in other light has more of a pink undertone to it.







I have been furnishing and decorating my place on and off for nearly the entire 8 months that I've lived here. It has been a true pleasure and so much fun. I watch for the sales and I do a little bit at a time to keep the financial expenditures under control (I'm living on a pension now, after all). This recent nesting process reminds me how passionate I was about interior design/ decorating in my 20s, when I got one of those mail order degrees in the subject. I never had the confidence at that time to actually get a job doing it, or strike out on my own doing it, but now I'm thinking "Hey...I'm not so bad at this."

Sometimes our passion for something and our confidence to take it somewhere don't coincide at the same time in our life. That's okay. All I know is that I'm having a ball doing it now!

To quote my friend Pam, "Nests are best!" Happy nesting from my nest to yours (with apologies to Paula Deen).