The Decompression of a Boomer

February’s gone and I don’t know where it went.

Although, my husband and I made a whirlwind trip to Vegas over Valentine’s weekend. That, I remember. Plus, I have photos from the trip on my i-Phone. I blogged about it in February. You didn’t see the blog? Huh. That might be because I didn’t actually write the blog. I just thought about what I would write if I happened to write it, which, it ended up, I didn’t. I’m blaming it on February.

But hey, it’s March! Why not share it now? I can spare you, o’ dearest reader, the travel, time, and stress, but mostly the beaucoup bucks it takes to spend a few days in Vegas yourself. Are you ready?…

We are there now, looking over Las Vegas Boulevard near the south end of the strip, crossing an elevated walkway

toward the ‘New York, New York’ Motel/Casino.

Home of the Statue of Liberty ‘Las Vegas”. We enter the casino and beyond, into the neighborhood streets of Manhattan, with its low-lying streetlamps, Irish pubs and deli’s. And expensive shops. And the erotic Zumanity show.

Back outside, heading north on Las Vegas Boulevard, we arrive at the newer ‘Cosmopolitan’. The interior is dripping with crystal lighting and shimmering liquid ceiling treatments that flow out from a 2-story crystal chandelier:

Nice place to pass through. Or check in, if, perchance, you are attending an all-expenses-paid conference or something.

Vegas is all abuzz in celebration over the Chinese New Year –

February 4, 2011 begins the Year of the Rabbit!

In Vegas’s case, GIANT Rabbits

Excessively large rabbits

Huge fuzzy organic rabbits – adorn the indoor conservatory at the Bellagio.

Vegas goes green!

But, hey. What are we doing looking at rabbits when we could be shopping!

Might as well check out the shops in the Bellagio while we’re here.

On someone else’s dime, obviously. Since these shops cater to, say, about 1 percent of the world’s population, economically speaking.

Maybe you’re independently extremely wealthy or find yourself sauntering by these shops on the arm of a filthy rich mama or sugar daddy who’s just itching to buy you something.

Looking for shoes?

Behold the mighty stiletto. Huh? What the … Whatever happened to Women’s Lib? Women burned their bras in the late seventies because, uh, bras could be a little snug in the front at times, or a tad itchy under the armpit, or something, and women back then flat out refused to put up with such physical bondage and abuse! So they threw off their bras and burned them in protest. Remember?? And the modern ‘savvy’ woman has been duped into wearing stilettos???

What the @#&$ happened?

Pink sport coats for men. A wardrobe staple.

Van Cleef and Arpels?

How about we shop for a $600,000.00 watch or maybe some new winter diamonds to wear until spring.

If I happen to have an extra half-million bucks sitting around – I might just venture in there. Let’s see. Let me check my pockets one more time…

We tromp back up the strip past Caesar’s Palace

to the Palazzo, where we are staying the three nights we are here.

Entering the lobby now. (Feeling a tad under-dressed, Jody? Yes, I was.)

We wander over to the Venetian which is connected to the Palazzo.

We ascend to the top floor and, uh, suddenly we’re in Venice in early evening under partly cloudy skies. Anyone up for a gondola ride?

Ah, but we’ve caught our fligt back to Idaho now. I captured the Vegas strip from the air.

Within an hour we are flying over the mountains in south central Idaho. The Pioneer Range, maybe?

We are descending now, over the farms just west of Idaho Falls. Coming in for a landing…

Yeah, we’ve been back home a few weeks now-

We’re still getting snow, but we’ve had rain too. The temperatures are gradually rising and the snow pack is melting

into puddles large enough to swallow trees.

March skies are mostly dreary

And filthy snow

litters the street sides.

The chaos of early spring

aggregates in corners, open fields, and parking lots.

Abstracts abound

to inspire dreamers and painters.

Be careful of the gaping pot holes

Or is it a black hole?

Exposed piles of rotting leaves, pot holes, filthy black snow … the first hopeful signs of spring!

Yeah, well, not so fast. I’m not running out in the garden looking for crocus. Spring in southeast Idaho ain’t here yet. Not even close.

I stepped out our front door this morning, and snapped this photo:

March sure looks an awful lot like February.

Fall was absolutely stunning this year. I tried to savor it – took a lot of photos with my iphone, mostly on our walks through Tautphaus Park.

Where some of the trees are a century old.

And giant Maples abound!

This year the colors were incredible.

I kept taking photos through late October, thinking, Oh, now, this is it! This is the peak! The snow is coming! Maybe next week! But sixty degree temps prevailed throughout October.

I snapped a photo of our plum tree out our kitchen window on Oct 23.

And our back yard on October 28.

Halloween is coming!

Our black cat, Tee-Box even posed for this picture.

On Friday, October 29, Megan was a witch by day

and ‘Lady Gaga’ for her party in the evening.

On Halloween I snapped another photo of our old plum tree out front through our kitchen window.

It’s knarly looking, with half its leaves gone. There’s our vibrant Canadian Maple standing in contrast in the front yard.

The weather stayed nice. Really nice. David and I hiked Rainy Creek on Thursday, November 4th. It was 65 degrees, a near record high.

The sky was a crystalline cloudless blue.

Ah, but the weather was changing. We knew it. Storms were moving in, but we had one last weekend of warm weather to enjoy. On Sunday, Nov. 7, we enjoyed one more balmy walk through Tautphaus.

The trees were as stunning as ever.

On Sunday, Nov 7, I took what I knew was the last photo of the flowers blooming in our back yard.

The wind was already howling before we went to bed on Sunday night, Nov. 7. And the next morning we woke up to … uh … well, suffice it to say that as you entered about any hardware or dept store on Monday you were met straight away with a stack of shiny new snow shovels. Luckily we have a large snow scoop, which David is very adept with. He shoveled Monday evening, Nov. 8, and I stepped out the front door and captured a picture.

The light wet snow continued throughout the night and we woke up Tuesday to a winter wonderland, with scenes you’d find on Christmas Cards.

Snow was clinging to every accessible tree branch

and piled up an inch high on even the tiniest branches.

Here we are taking our down-right-invigorating walk at noon on Tuesday. A stark and bitter contrast to our walk in Tautphaus, just two days before!

Some trees seemed more jolted by the snow, and unprepared, than we were.

And unwilling to give up the orange. Although admittedly, that tree clinging to its orange glory faces some stiff competition for beauty next to it’s shimmering flocked neighbor.

And here’s our knarly old plum tree again – on Nov. 10.

Yeah, well, it’s the weekend again now – a week after those last balmy walks through Tautphaus. The trees in our yard are stark naked, the flowers all froze. Here’s a picture of our back yard.

Care to sit down?

Yeah, well, me neither. I took this photo of our deck furniture from inside the house. I suppose the snow has receded enough so as to run me out of excuses as to why I can’t rake.

Turning again to our front yard, here’s a picture of that stunning Canadian Maple.

Well, it was a stunning gold up to about three days ago, when the leaves dropped off en masse.

A stark naked May tree adorns the west side of our front lawn.

Okay, so we’ve got some serious raking to do.

Get out there, quick! Rake like maniacs!

Yeah, before Old Man Winter returns with a vengeance.

During Labor Day weekend we stayed at a condo at the Snow King Resort in Jackson, Wyoming. It was very nice and had an attached garage where we could park our car. Only, they had this sign posted above our parking space:

Which, now why would they post such a sign? To cover their butts, perhaps, in case we were having an absolutely horrible time at their resort during our getaway weekend, and were devising ways to get ourselves out of our misery? So, in such circumstances, they could tell the authorities they cued us not to shut ourselves in their garage with the car running?

I need visual cues in my home environment to keep myself sane, focused, and prioritized. Our home is plastered with cues, in the form of signs and fridge magnets. Here’s what’s posted above the mirror in our kitchen:

So as to remind me and other members of our household, that, although it’s a great weekend fantasy to imagine that we have escaped to a Bed and Breakfast, I’m not going to be the staff of five that transforms our home environment into the experience.

As you enter our house from the garage you pass this sign:

Which reminds me every day to imagine the potential for happiness if I could just live relaxedly in a mess. Because the HyperPhysics law of entropy (the measure of disorder) applies to nothing in the universe if not to a clean house, that is, quite simply, by the law of entropy, a clean house spontaneously turns dirty. You can literally stand and watch the mess drop and grow before your eyes. And if you expect your house to be clean, then, uh, you (or someone!) have to clean it, continually. And if your housekeeper has quit (dammit!) then, ‘clean’ becomes the new ‘ugly’ with your nagging and gnashing of teeth at the ones you love, rising to new heights: “Off with your shoes, NOW!” – “Hey! Brush that off outside!” “Put your crap away!” “Who made that spill and just left it there?” “WHAT WERE YOU, BORN IN A BARN?” “OUT YOU GO!” You’re a witch now, trolling the house, conspiring to capture and euthanize the pets to be rid of their incessant messes, and every living creature around you is hiding from you because you “JUST CLEANED THE HOUSE AND AIM TO KEEP IT THAT WAY!”, which is, as I said, impossible. Contemplate the wonders of living in a hovel, I say. Messiness is bliss.

Uh … so, where was I? Oh! This little magnet is posted at eye level beside the fridge handle, cueing us

to back off! – making us feel like porkys as we cozy up to the fridge, poised to ransack its contents in the unfettered act of pigging out. Only, typically, each sideways glance at that fridge magnet elicits not one whit of restraint or shamefulness. Should probably toss that magnet out.

This next fridge magnet, the one with the bit about hard work, provides continual comfort and justification for me in my quest to avoid hurting myself:

Which … partly explains why there has been a huge mound of soil sitting atop the vegetable garden for six weeks, that I was supposed to work into the existing soil. Now it’s a huge mound of soil sprouting vibrant thistles and tall weeds.

But, Hey! Success at not hurting myself explains away the weedy mound. That, combined with, I suppose, some measure of … laziness?

My hubby posted a few signs of his own. Like this one by the ping pong table in the basement rec room:

Ha ha. Uhhhhh … Who more interesting? Me?? Awwwww. Okay, I give. I mean, I’m gonna give into the urge right now to lay down, until the feeling that I might could do something to improve my personality passes.

Girls Rule!

This is a pretty dumb blog. But at least at this juncture I can proudly state that, generally, I’m not at a point to where I’m devising ways to get myself out of my misery. In other words, I don’t need to post that sign above my car in our garage to cue me not to shut myself in the garage while sitting in the car with the engine idling.

So … so far, so good. So long as I don’t hurt my back, or shoulder, or pinky finger, or something.

Or let the freakin’ housework make me ugly.