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My Bucket List

Ever since I saw the “I Love Lucy” episode where Lucille Ball joined a group of women stomping grapes I’ve had a secret desire to do the same.  Something about getting to mash food with my bare feet appealed to my inner child.

I got to fulfill that childhood fantasy last Saturday when my husband and I participated in a “Grape Stomping” contest at a local winery during their “Harvest Festival” celebration. Four teams gathered atop a flatbed wagon and wooden tubs were filled with about twenty pounds of grapes. One person of the team (me!) stepped into the tub while the other person (my husband) held a plastic pitcher below the tub’s spout. We had three minutes to stomp away at the slippery fruit and try to get as much juice into the pitchers as we could. I’m proud to inform you all that WE WON!!! I pulvarized those purple balls and my husband kept the spigot clean so that all our juice poured out!

To answer some frequently asked questions after the event-no the grapes weren’t cold, the stems didn’t hurt my feet and my toes weren’t permanently colored purple.

Of course, I have much bigger goals to accomplish on my true “Bucket List” before the Lord brings me home-visit Israel and Egypt, get a novel published, hike a mountain (a small one!) But stomping grapes really had been something I’d always wanted to experience and I had a blast doing it.

So what little thing have you always wanted to do but never had the chance? Learn to juggle or tap dance? Take a class in basket weaving? Bake a four tiered chocolate layer cake? Jot me a line and let me know. And then maybe look for the opportunity to accomplish that goal. It sure is a lot of fun! Now if I can just figure out how to use the experience in one of my stories…

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The Loss of a Smile

A friend of mine died Sunday night–a resident from the assisted living facility where I work.

I met Jimmy some four years ago on the first day of my job. His spry step and enthusiasm for life belied his seventy-plus years.  Mildly retarded, Jimmy may never have learned to read but he had a memory like a steel trap for the things that interested him. We called him the “Town Crier” because he memorized the monthly and daily calendars and each day would let the other residents know what was going on in the facility.

Jimmy loved music; sing-a-longs on Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoons were among his favorite activities, only topped by the professional singers that come in monthly to entertain the residents. Jimmy’s voice could be heard singing the lyrics to all the old standards, especially “Sentimental Journey,”  “Tennessee Waltz” and “Vaya con Dios.” And he never passed up an opportunity to polka with me!

In the four years I had the pleasure of knowing Jimmy he never failed to meet me without a smile on his face, calling out “How you doing, Kim! I wasn’t sure you’d be here today!” as if my showing up to work was the best thing that happened to him that day.

Jimmy taught me to be patient with my limitations. I never saw him angry when he made a mistake. He’d just keep plugging along, doing the best he could.

He taught me to freely offer to help others-he was always quick to get another resident an extra napkin or a drink, or give them a hand if they needed help back to their apartment.

And best of all, Jimmy taught me to appreciate life for the simple things. Biscuits and gravy on Tuesday mornings. A Cornhuskers game on TV.  A drive around to look at the scenery. Ice cream and cake served at a party and of course, a good song.

I thank God for bringing Jimmy into my life, even if was for far too short a time. Vaya con Dios my friend. I know you’re whole and happy where you are, but I will miss your smile.

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The Sounds of …

Something woke me from a deep sleep last night. The kind of sound that brings you instantly from unconsciousness to awareness quicker than a Porsche cruising the Autobon.  “What noise is that?” you ask. The unmistakable retching of a dog getting ready to vomit in your bed.

Our dog Schatzi (a Dorky-part Dachsund, part Yorkshire Terrier) is not allowed on the bed when we first go to sleep. But she has learned over the years that if she waits until my husband is well situated in La-la Land she can whine by his side and he will pick her up and place her on the bed without ever waking up. Such was the case last night. We went to sleep-no dog on bed. At 3:00 a.m.- dog gettting ready to hurl. Fortunately, I woke in time to avoid complete disaster.

It got me thinking about sounds. What are the sounds that bring you to instant attention, maybe with worry or fear? Glass breaking? A door slamming when you’re home alone? A siren in the night when you’re kids are still out with friends?

But not all memorable sounds are those that invoke fear.  Are there sounds that bring you joy? Nothing brings a smile to me quicker than the belly laugh of a baby. That deep chuckle of pure happiness a child gets over the silliest of things.

Is there a sound that brings you peace? I know for me the sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore gives me an immediate sense of God’s presence. Any tension I carry gets washed away with the pounding surf.

So what are the sounds of your life? The ones that bring you fear? Joy? Peace? Drop me a line and let me know. I’d love to see what makes you tick.

p.s.- My dog  Schatzi would tell you that her favorite sound is the siren call of lunchmeat cellophane!

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The Joy of Jammies

A friend sent me a blog about altering your “at home” work habits to be more successful or get out of a rut. One of the suggestions was to change things up a little and NOT take a shower and get dressed as if going to an actual office.

I read the line twice before it hit me.

Some people don’t stay in their jammies for as long as possible throughout the day. Some people actually get washed and dressed even if they aren’t going anywhere.

Oh my…what a concept.

I have discovered that my absolute best writing is done the instant the morning rush is over and those that are heading out the door are out. Generally from 8 until 11 a.m. If I interrupt this time with something as mundane as clothes? Well my muse doesn’t like it! Not one bit! See I am one of those people who forever wander from one room of the house to the other, constantly getting distracted with new projects and shiny objects. If I don’t park myself in front of the laptop and write at that time, I’m toast.

The whole topic has sparked my curiosity. Writer friends, and others who work at home, which are you? Does your morning routine include a shower and clothes or a cup of coffee and slippers? Inquiring minds want to know!