Our 2002 Suburban is starting to show its age a bit. Little things keep popping up and it’s developed a few quirks. It still runs great but we would like to replace it before Rick retires so we can get that cost out of the way before a steady income goes away. We looked last year but were not happy with any of the choices.

Yesterday Rick called me excitedly to tell me that the Chevy dealership had finally gotten in a 2015 Tahoe for us to look at. We’ve been waiting for them to change up the inside of the Tahoe and Suburban back to a flat cargo bed in the back. Right now our Suburban’s seats fold down completely flat and make one continuously flat surface (with third back seat taken out). It’s the only way to go with dog crates. For several years now they had changed the inside to attract the “soccer mom” crowd and the seats did not fold completely down, nor did they form a single surface. We weren’t buying one. They told us that the 2015 models would go back to the original cargo space with flat-folding seats. Hence, our excitement.

I drove down to meet Rick over his lunch hour and we went to the dealership. The first thing we asked to see where how the seats folded down before anything else. The salesperson thought this was odd. Well, guess what? They’ve really screwed them up — again! The third row seat is not removable, nor can you order one without the seat unless you are a policeman or you’re a municipality. It does not fold flat, but at an angle that would make it next to impossible for a dog crate. The dog would be all bunched up on the lower end of its crate. To make matters even worse the third row seat is only inches off the floor of the vehicle making it impossible to sit in unless you’re a child whose legs stick straight out. For an adult they would be sitting with their knees in their faces. Totally useless! There is a tiny space behind the seats for a few bags of groceries but that’s it. We were bummed. We are assuming that the Suburban will be much the same, so we’re looking in different directions now toward the Toyota Sequoia or the Ford Expedition. 

Rick stopped by the Toyota dealership yesterday on his way home from work and said we need to both go and look at it. The seats don’t fold completely flat but he thinks they could work. The Expedition we have not looked at yet but the downside of that vehicle is that the reviews hate the GPS/radio/navigation system saying it’s really hard to use. If we are going to pay that much for a vehicle we want to be happy with important parts of it, you know? They’re pricey!

This weekend we’ll visit both of them. Stay tuned …

The works being my sister’s cowl and reading Kristin Lavransdatter. I am making progress on both and will most certainly finish my sister’s cowl before I complete the 1,124 pages of Kristen.

I was going great guns on my sister’s cowl only to realize, after counting my stitches, that I had made a huge gaffe and needed to take out four rows. So, that set me back a bit. My goal is to finish by this weekend so I can wash it and block it and send it out to her before North Carolina’s weather turns warmer. Too bad she doesn’t have it right now since they are getting snow and ice!

The cowl and the book are connected in a way because my sister recommended that I read the book. It’s about a woman in fourteenth-century Norway and is really a trilogy written in the early 1920’s: The Wreath, The Wife and The Cross, rolled into one huge issue. It takes her from girlhood and throughout her life. It’s really good! I am not reading it exclusively as I have too many library books out right now and those have a limited amount of time; Kristen does not since it belongs to me. I am making progress one or two chapters at a time. (I am still on The Wreath.)

Tomorrow should be a good day to catch up on both of my “works” while sitting in front of a cozy fire watching the snow fall. All 10 to 16 inches of it!

What a title for a post, eh? Well I couldn’t very well call it Two Funerals and a Wedding, now could I? I am not trying to be flip here. Not at all. The fact is, I feel very sad. After never having attended a funeral in my entire life I have now gone to two in two days. Both funerals were held in two different Catholic churches in Wayne. Our friends Andy and Linda have both lost their mothers in the space of one week. It’s almost too much for one family to bear and I cannot imagine their sorrow and grief. Well, I can actually, just a little bit and that’s the problem. 

When you lose a parent it’s like being smacked in the back of the head with your own mortality. Those of you who have not experienced it yet can’t fully comprehend what I am talking about. There is just the slightest scabbing over from the wound of the loss of my mom. If I start picking at it, the wound opens back up.

I did not know either one of the matriarchs of their families, yet I still found tears welling up in my eyes and slipping down my cheeks when I saw their grief, which was so palpable. I have to admit, I cry watching Hallmark movies and commercials, and now at funerals of people I don’t know too. Seeing the families grieve, listening to the eulogies of these two well-loved women brought my mom’s death back to me with a punch in the gut. I have to admit, it hurt. All those feelings and memories came rushing back. My mom did not want a formal funeral as she had eschewed the whole Catholic church thing which was so much a part of my childhood, but not my adulthood. But after attending back to back funerals I can certainly see the advantage to having one. It gives closure and a chance to reflect on a life you were part of for so long. A celebration and an ending.

Both funerals were very different, yet the same. I actually enjoyed both priests when they spoke to the immediate family. They had obviously taken the time to research each woman before they spoke. When they were speaking from the heart (and not for God) I got it.

I’m having a rather emotional day so forgive me if I am not making sense. 

I was raised Catholic and we went to church every Sunday as a child. Being in a Catholic church again and attending a mass of sorts after not having set foot in one (not counting visiting cathedrals in Europe) for 35 years was also a bit strange and off-putting. So many feelings washed over me.

My mom’s death. 

Being sent back to my childhood again with two distinct memories:

The heavy scent of incense filling the church with its musky odor on Christmas midnight masses. 

The cruel nun who poked me so hard in the back I thought I’d be bruised when I did not kneel up straight. Looking down at those kneelers the past two days, kneeling was the last thing I wanted to do!

I went through the whole Holy Communion and Confirmation thing. Here I am the day of my Communion.

Photo back reads (in my mom’s handwriting) :

Lynne Ann, First Holy Communion (as if I was going to have a second?),

May 18th, 1963

And looking even more pious on my Confirmation!

Photo back reads: May 28, 1966, Confirmation

Wow, same hair-do! Maybe my bangs are a little longer. Nice curls, Lynne. Really, now looking back I’m not sure what the whole to-do was about. Sad, really.  I was really not as pious as I look in these photos. My mom saved my report card from catechism class and it resides in my baby book (thankfully my sister and I were both spared parochial school due to my father’s own school experience) and I thought my conduct grade would be worse than a “B” since I distinctly remember the nun smacking my hand with a ruler (yes, they still did that) and once standing in the corner because I was chewing gum and the nun made me put the gum on my nose too. Maybe this was why when I left my parent’s house and got married I turned away from the church and never went back.

My sister has gone back “into the fold” later in life and I am glad that the rituals give her comfort. After being back in the church for two days in a row I can honestly say I have no desire to go back.

I miss my mom so much. Andy and Linda, if you read this my heart goes out to you both.

Photo: Autumn’s last gasp with burning bushes in the background, Long Pond Ironworks.

Hmm… turns out there is no such word as “mindly.” My spell checker has reminded me of that about three times, but I like it. I guess I could have titled this “Books and the Meanderings of my Mind” but I didn’t. First for the books part of this post which is really why I started this post in the first place but it turned into something else entirely. But I am getting ahead of myself …

Just like a truly believe that houses have personalities (a topic for another blog post), I also believe that books have personalities as well. Some books speak to me —read me. When I am looking in a bookstore or in the library (I rarely buy books anymore) for something to read and I don’t have any particular book in mind, my eye is drawn first to the title. When I pull it out, I look at the cover. If I get past the cover I read the flyleaf or the back, wherever the book description is. Then I open it up and look at the print. When it passes all those tests, I then bury my nose in its pages and take a deep breath. 

Yes, I freely admit it. I am a book smeller. There, I’ve gone and said it out loud. Magazines too if you really want to know.

I was prompted to sit down and write this because of the good book I checked out of the library and am reading now. An extra bonus is that it smells good too! Its pages are pungently bookish. It also helps that I am the very first person to ever check it out of the library. Lucky me! This book, Still Life with Breadcrumbs, is also resonating in many ways with the way I am feeling about my life now. Rethinking things. Redefining life as I now know it. Or, if you will, searching for who I really am deep down inside.

What sort of life do I want to lead? One that includes posh dinners out and driving a Lexus, (we don’t own a Lexus by the way, just a Subaru and a Suburban) or stew cooked over a wood stove and a battered old pickup truck capable of plowing a goodly amount of snow and hauling felled trees? Fancy dresses and designer clothing or leggings, warm boots and a hoodie? Manicured nails or nails that can withstand using the wood splitter and some outside work? 

I can be that elegant woman that eats in expensive restaurants, but I can also be the kind of woman who knows how to run the wood splitter too. l am really both women rolled up in one. But if I have to choose, I would pick the simpler life where little things mean a lot. I am talking about life experiences and not material things. Things like seeing a new bird, or an animal sighting of some kind. A hug or good conversation between my husband and me, not the latest fashions hanging on the rack at Bloomingdales (or Bloomie’s as they call it here). Material things are just that. Made and manufactured. Hey, just maybe the Beatle’s were on to something when they sang “Can’t Buy Me Love.” Money can’t buy you a life lived well either come to think of it.

This post got out of hand, so to speak, as my fingers flew across the keyboard, getting farther and farther away from the whole topic of this blog, so I am stopping here for now even though I’ve written another three paragraphs. Stay tuned for Part Two of Mindly Meanderings in which I try to explain what all this is about and how I came to be an outdoorsy kind of girl. Sheesh, two weeks of silence and now you can’t shut me up.

Photo: Sunset clouds last week from my deck.

Last night we had a visit from Santa. He didn’t arrive in quite the usual way. You see, all our lovely snow melted and he had no choice but to arrange something else. So, he got a little help from the local fire department. His sleigh was borne in fine style on a flatbed trailer pulled by the fire department instead of the usual reindeer. As he went by the fire engine sounded the siren and had all the whirling lights going. Quite the entrance for the dear old man.

In case you think I jest, I do not. You remember Fire Truck Santa from years past, right? This time we have a new fire department covering our area and instead of sitting on the front bumper of the fire truck as he usually does, this Santa had his own sleigh. So darned cute! Sorry, it was dark when he arrived and I could not get a photo of the little parade. Trust me when I tell you it was magical. It made my day. 

We saw the light from the living room first, then when we realized what was happening we quick ran to the door to turn on the outside lights (which we had yet to do), opened the front door and stood in the doorway. As he went past he yelled “Merry Christmas.” They turned around in our cul-de-sac and started back our way. We both had our slippers on but mine are sturdier with a good sole, so Rick handed me a $20 bill and I took off jogging up the driveway. They stopped for me and rolled down the window of the truck that was pulling Santa and I handed them the money. They thanked me very graciously and continued down our road very slowly, hoping for more donations.

It’s a lovely custom and I can only say that had Santa come by my house when I was a child I would have been over the moon! Heck, it still makes me feel like a child again. Silly, but true.

Today has been dark and rainy. I am not surprised anymore by this kind of weather at Christmas. If I look back in my archives of the blog, or even just over on the sidebar under “On This Day” I was always lamenting about the lack of snow, and most years since we’ve lived here it has rained. At least we had some snow last week, and tomorrow night there is even a chance of an evening snow shower in the forecast. I won’t be holding my breath though. At least it will feel more like Christmas with temperatures in the 30’s instead of the 50’s.