No Height Restrictions For This Ride

I have heard people say that they aren't ride people or that they don't do roller coasters. The fact is, we all ride a roller coaster whether we want to or not. Starting fresh out of the womb, our parents lovingly strap us in, and we ride until our last breath. During the scary parts, we hold on tight, close our eyes and scream. We might even throw up. When we are having fun, we laugh and we throw our arms in the air to enhance the experience. We look around and enjoy the view. The rare, flat straightaways are spent catching our breath, righting ourselves for the next hill, the next drop. 

Your ticket for this ultimate roller coaster? A birth certificate. 

If You Love Her Then You Have To Put Her Rings On You

When my mom passed away in 2012, her mom's wedding rings became mine. My nana, as I called her, was married in the 1920's to my pop pop and they were together for over 50 years until his death.

I have always been a believer in displaying or using things that are mementos from the people we have loved and lost.  I want to honor them and incorporate their things into my daily life. I display my pop pop's American flag, which was presented to Nana at his funeral to mark his time as a Marine in World War I. We also framed the last lottery tickets my dad-in-law purchased before his sudden death and I am having my mom's t-shirts made into a quilt. These are just some of the ways we keep them front and center.

However, I have not followed my credo when it comes to my nana's rings. They have been in my drawer since they became mine. They have been in their original box, from a jeweler in Philadelphia, since my nana passed in 1996. Recently, I decided to have them cleaned and looked over by a local jeweler to see what I could learn about them. I don't remember Nana wearing them often, only on special occasions, and we never talked about them. She always wore a plain, thin silver band. This seems to have been the practice of that generation. I remember when I was a little girl and would visit  her, I was fascinated by her wringer washing machine. She used to let me turn the crank to squeeze the water out of the clothes, but put the fear of God into me about not getting my fingers or arm crushed by the rollers. No wonder the beautiful diamond rings were spared the daily chores of housewives back then!

Turns out the rings are the real deal. I assumed that they were but the fact that my pop pop was a printer and by no means affluent left just a 1/4 carat of doubt in my mind. They are so special I wouldn't have cared if they weren't. When they cleaned the rings, they became even more spectacular. Even with my limited vision, I can see them sparkling.

I had told my husband I was thinking of having them sized to fut me. I asked the jeweler what the cost of sizing up would be and my husband and I told them we would be back.After we got in our car, my husband and I looked at each other and we both knew what the other was thinking. We both unhooked our seat belts, got out of the car and headed back into the store. What was the sense of leaving, only to come back in a week or so? I left them to be sized from a 6 to 6 1/2.

The rings were ready for pick up a few days later and now they fit perfectly. I have made a vow to all of them -- Mom, Nana and Pop Pop -- to wear them often. I vow to love, honor and cherish them as long as we all shall live. Because that's what we do, you know. When we lose someone, we take them with us. And that's how they go on. Through us. Through me. And now through these rings.

I Haven't Feathered My HaIr Since The 80's

You know you're visually impaired
when you know that your bird is downstairs with your husband

but you round the corner into the bathroom 

and you think your hair dryer is your bird.

"JUST" Is A Four-Letter Word

I recently met an acquaintance of my husband's and as we chatted, her recent heart attack and my vision loss came up. We exchanged our medical summaries and our current cardiac and optic status, respectively.

She told me her story first, then I followed suit. After I explained that I was completely blind for a few weeks and now am legally blind, she countered with, "Oh, you're JUST legally blind now."

My neck still hurts from the recoil. No one is more grateful than I that I have some degree of sight, but how dare this woman I have only met minutes ago minimize my experience every single day since I woke up blind?

You may think I am being way too sensitive and maybe I am. But someday I will write a post about all the things people have said to me that I was able to take with more aplomb.

Do me a favor, dear readers: think before you speak. If you don't, let's hope the recipient of your "just" thinks before they punch.

Thank Goodness It's Not Brussels Sprouts!

This is Bassetts Ice Cream located in the Reading Terminal Market in Philadelphia. Their ice cream is the best ice cream I have ever had and always a part of visits to see my Nana when she was alive and/or any trip to the city. Although they offer many flavors and continue to add to their offerings, for me, chocolate is always my choice. It is creamy and delicious. It is the taste of my childhood. 

This is a must do if you ever find yourself in Philly

For Bassetts' website, click here.

For Reading Terminal Market, click here

A Premium 6 Ply Friendship

My friend and I were at CVS pharmacy picking up diapers and prescription medications. I commented to her that in another twenty years we will be picking up the same. The medications will still be for us but then the diapers will be too (as opposed to for her grandson).

Bad news? It's true.

Good news? Twenty years from now my dear, cherished friend and I will have been soul sisters for over forty years. How will we celebrate? With cake, of course!

 

Taking A Load Off, Literalky

There is no doubt in my mind that the couch in my therapist's office isn't for her clients but for her to lay down when we leave. And it has to be something much stronger than coffee in that mug.

#haveyouhuggedyourtherapisttoday