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Posts Tagged ‘memories’

I was greedy and ate 3 slices of breakfast cake and now I positively feel sick to my stomach and I am sitting here feeling awfully bad. Breakfast cake is very dense and filling and it is customary to put butter on it, so I’ve had quite a meal. I feel it slowly making its way past my gastric band and in a short amount of time I should be feeling better. Sometimes I do the thing that is absolutely the worst for me, when my eyes are literally bigger than my stomach. Foolish woman, Irene.

I should be at my creative therapy now, but I didn’t sleep enough last night and at 8AM I went back to bed for some more sleep. I was sitting on the sofa, waiting for it to be time to leave, and I was nodding off, so I called and left a message to say that I would not be there. I like going to creative therapy too, so I hate to miss the class, but sometimes you just have to.

Cute little Gandhi just jumped on my lap for some loving and that means I cease all activity and push the keyboard under the desk, because she’ll walk on it and cause strange things to happen. So we cuddle and she purrs until it has been enough and she leaves again. I just have to be patient and wait for her to get done rubbing her head against my chin and hands. She’s such an affectionate little cat, you just can’t ignore her or push her away, at least I can’t.

The Überhund was his normal affectionate self this morning. He just could not get close enough to me and was in danger constantly of being run over by the desk chair. He waits for me by the bathroom door while I get ready and no cat is allowed to enter while I am in there. He growls at them if they try, which is very antisocial of him, but he just thinks we belong together and that no other animal may interfere at that point. He sneezes when I apply hairspray and then he follows me to the bedroom and sneezes again when I apply perfume. That’s true dedication for you.

I hope this is not going to be another lazy day, because I’ve had enough of those now. Judging by the look of the weather outside, it is not going to be a hot day, so I think some vigorous house cleaning will be able to get done. In other words, it doesn’t look like holiday weather.

It’s almost impossible not to upset the cat population when I pull out the vacuum cleaner. Some of them pretend to be brave, but eventually they all go into hiding and I need to pull it out so often, especially now with the fleas that I am combating. Fleas don’t like me and if I scratch my head, it’s from my eczema and not from a flea bite.

I see people drive down our street and the ‘sleeping gendarme’ does slow them down a bit, but I think they didn’t make it high enough. It should have been a wee bit higher so people would have some serious damage to their cars if they really didn’t slow down enough. As it is, it is still too dangerous to let your kids play out there. When we were kids, we played all over the place and that included the street, that was our playground.

We lived in a tiny little house in a street with tiny little houses that were about 80 years old when I was born there. This was post war Holland and there was a terrible shortage of housing and people were cramped in everywhere. We had a shower and a toilet built on to the kitchen in the back of the house. Some families had numerous children and they all lived in those tiny houses, but it was a wonderful street to grow up in, because there were all these kids to play with and we were all very tight and loyal and we never had fights with each other, just terrible disloyalty and fights with the kids on the next street over. So, we didn’t enter each other’s streets.

My 85 year old neighbor just came by with two English language letters claiming he had won a tremendous amount of money if he would just send in the details of his credit card and pay 29.95 Euros. So, I explained to him what it said in the letters and looked the companies up on line and very quickly found out that they were both scams and I also found out that he had been playing along with them for a while already. I told him, if you get anymore of this kind of mail, come to me and I will read it for you to find out what it is all about. Poor old guy, thought maybe he had won a lot of money.

Well, sorry people, I’ve got to stop now and get going. I am running behind schedule and I feel terribly rushed.

Have a great day and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do… What?

Ciao…

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Discovery.

By chance I rediscovered an old lover whom I had had a brief affair with when my kids were little and when i was desperately looking for a way out of my marriage with my then husband. I had no idea how to go about it with two little kids and was looking for a knight in shining armor. I soon realized that my lover was not going to be it, and although I was crazy about him, I broke off the relationship and went back into the marriage to serve the jail sentence.

But here he showed up in my life again. He had made the move north as well and lived in my general vicinity and was divorced, which was a great convenience to me, as I thought this would give me the opportunity to seduce him and make him never forget me. Better yet, make him want me and never want him to live without me. There was a strategy, you see.

We met at romantic places, because I did have a lot of freedom in my life and we spent many passionate moments together. I fell head over heels in love, I thought. So did he, I thought, but we both had our ulterior motives. Mine was to escape my marriage and his was to make his ex wife jealous.

At one point, out of a sense of guilt, I told my husband I was having an affair. he was devastated and thought he could save the marriage, not realizing that it had died a sure death many years ago. When I was so bold as to tell my husband about the affair, my lover, whom we will call David, asked me to move in with him and secretly I was very pleased, although I did not let on how pleased I was.

It is not a common thing for a mother to leave her children, but I was about to do so. I was about to leave my whole life and everything in it behind me. I had a huge struggle of the conscious about this, but I let nobody know this, in case somebody would start to work on my better self and try to change my mind. I did not want my mind to be changed, I wanted to escape. I acted like I was very ruthless and coldblooded, while inside my heart was breaking.

I moved in with David and started the honeymoon weeks. I was cute and adorable and he was at his best. All nagging thoughts were pushed away until the fall when my guilt feelings rose to the top and I started drinking a six pack of Anchor Steam beer a day at the end of each day. This numbed my pain and took away the feelings of longing I had for the kids which I could never display and talk about.

I could not stand to be away from David for one day, I constantly needed to be in his nearness. Sometimes he was gone for a few hours and I knew not where he was. I suspected he was with his ex wife, because I had soon found out that, although he was physically divorced from her, emotionally he was not divorced from her at all. I suspected foul play.

He sent me on a surprise trip to the Netherlands for two weeks, but I found out later on that he had spent that time with his ex wife making a road trip to the Grand Canyon and other beauty spots.

He was an alcoholic who would not drink for months on end and suddenly go on a binge, where he would drink himself into a stupor for 5 days and nights straight and turn mean. Afterwards he was always very docile and apologetic and childlike and you assumed and wanted to believe it wouldn’t happen again.

I went into therapy with a psychologist because I started having mood swings. I went from sad to happy and sometimes I was euphoric and David questioned me about secretly using drugs or alcohol. In therapy, all I talked about was David and his behavior and I never got around to myself.

In the meantime, I think my kids were suffering, but I can’t go into that, because it is too painful. My son especially was not doing well and his father was very ineffective in dealing with it. There were victims. We were failing and David didn’t give a shit as long as nothing upset his quiet safe life. He couldn’t be bothered.

After we had been together for nearly two years, he suddenly wanted to go to my therapist with me and once there, he told her that he thought it would be better if we broke up and that I move out on my own. It was like I got side swiped in a car accident. i hadn’t seen it coming. I cried non stop for three days, but received no mercy.

Once I was out on my own, in my own apartment, I suddenly became interesting to David again and he started dating me as if I was his best girlfriend. Of course, I let him, because I was obsessively hooked and heartbroken. He had a spell on me that was not explainable to a reasonable human being. It was a sickness. It was a pathological case of love gone wrong.

It would have gone on forever, if I had not suddenly needed to go to France and had met Eduard there. That put an end to David’s spell on me, well it almost did, but it saved me from his clutches. And that starts a whole other chapter in my life.

I will tell you about that eventually.

Ciao…

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Memories.

In writing down my memories, i hope you realize that i don’t write down everything. There are all sorts of events missing. Events involving me and the kids and my ex husband and my parents. I’ve decided not to write about everything, because it would tear open old wounds and be very painful, so mostly i am just skimming over the surface and giving you a global view. I write the little bits that are not all too painful and that i can write about without turning into a sobbing mess of a human being. I don’t think this is supposed to be a complete confessional nor a painstaking exploration of every detail of my life.

Having said that, one evening I was sitting in my friend’s Vicky’s garden, drinking wine and being very companionable together when she told me a secret. Something that she felt she had to get of her chest, because we had grown so close. She said her name was not really Vicky and that she and her husband lived under assumed names in a life of hiding, because they were on the run from the FBI for something foolish they had done when they were younger.

I was flabbergasted, but took her at her word, because i could hear the seriousness of her tone of voice. She said for me to be prepared to one day suddenly find her gone without knowing where she was, because through a network of people they knew when the FBI got too hot on their trail. They would have to leave the house in an hour’s notice with just the things they could pack into their car and disappear.

About a year later, she was able to make a last phone call to me and tell me that they were leaving in a cryptic message and that was the last I ever heard from her and to this day, I think about her and wonder where she is and if she is alright. I will never know.

Anyway, that is something I can share with you, because Vicky does not exist. I don’t know who she is now.

There are other memories that are raw and that make me ache in my heart and I won’t touch them, not with a ten foot pole. I think they are too big to remember and will upset my equilibrium, which I have fought so hard for to have.

So, before I start on the next episode of my life’s remembrances, let me just tell you about my ordinary day today.

I went to bed at 11PM last night, but for some reason woke up at 1AM and could not go back to sleep, so I spend the night looking for new blogs, which I found some of. It is a chore, finding new blogs, because some of them sound promising at first, but as you read the older posts, you become discouraged and think that maybe it is not the blogger for you after all. Sometimes you think it is a man writing the blog, but then you think, “This is a very emotional man,” and it turns out to be a woman and you forgive her her emotions. You see how we have different standards for the sexes after all.

The thing that finally got through through my muddled head today was, that i had to increase my antipsychotic medication and that i should have done that last week and I don’t know why I forgot such a simple thing as that, it is the first thing you do when you get hypo manic. I must have had a really screwy week and I am really just now getting really back to ‘normal’.

My sister asked me yesterday how I managed to keep my sanity so well through all of this and I said that it was the medication that helped me. I told her I would be a blathering idiot without it. I am convinced of that.

Tomorrow I will continue with my saga. I am going to the store right now to buy me some pudding with berry sauce, because I crave some very badly and I need some comfort food. Then I am curling up on the sofa to watch the news and after that I am walking the dog and going to bed.

See you tomorrow.

Ciao…

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450 Miles.

Climbing up the corporate ladder, we moved 450 miles to the north, close to the city of San Francisco. Because of the housing prices, we bought a small house with a little garden. We were surrounded by bigger and better houses, where bigger and better people lived. At least, that was the unspoken message I got from my ex-husband. He said he would never invite his boss or colleagues to the house, because he was embarrassed. I grew to have an inferiority complex about the house and every day, when I drove around the neighborhood, I saw the bigger and better houses that we should be living in.

Our dog grew neurotic in the new house. He started catching birds in the garden and peeing on precious objects in the house. One day, he broke through the fence and physically attacked the neighbor’s dog who stood there screaming hysterically as if she was being murdered. We took the dog to the Humane Society and put him up for adoption. Some time later we got a more docile Basset Hound.

I was depressed very often in this house. I didn’t know I was depressed. I thought I was unhappy. I didn’t know the difference. The last time I saw my mother, I was depressed and I remember spending many hours on my own in the garden smoking numerous cigarettes and being unable to communicate my feelings. My mother thought I was unhappy because she was there. I wasn’t. I was just depressed and couldn’t come out of it.

I took a home decorating class at the local community college which was fun and met a new friend there called Vicky. She became my best friend. I also took an art history class which I loved and I seriously considered making a whole study of this. We had a very good lecturer who backed up her art facts with slides and many anecdotal historical stories. I would have been happy taking nothing but art history classes.

I had left behind my whole social network and I never managed to build up a new one like it. Somehow I didn’t have the courage and the energy. A sadness had settled over me and it wouldn’t leave and the little bit of gardening that I did, didn’t help.

I finally decided to get a part time job in a clothing store and that sort of saved my life. It was a good sized store and there were enough people to also have fun with. I didn’t earn a lot of money and what I did earn, I spent on discounted clothes. We didn’t work on commission, but we sure did try to make a sale.

I liked hanging out in the lingerie department and loved all the pretty underwear with its pretty colors and lace and always enjoyed arranging everything.

One night I got some very bad news and had to go to the Netherlands in the middle of the night and I stayed there for three weeks making all sorts of arrangements and being supportive to my sisters. It was an event of such magnitude, that it boggled the mind and it was very difficult to last the three weeks without my family.

When I came back to the States, and I walked into my house, I thought, “My God, I am living the new and improved version of my mother’s life and look where she ended up.” From that point forward I stopped caring about my role in my life and turned cynical about it and no longer believed in it. Whatever was left of the fairytale quickly went down the drain.

I very much had stopped loving my husband, as a matter of fact, I had a real aversion to him, but I didn’t know how to leave him, because what would happen to the family unit. He was gone on business trips a lot and those were the best times.

One day we were driving through the neighborhood and saw a bigger and better house for sale and went in to have a look. It stole my heart right away and I thought that maybe living in such a house would make my life bearable. We bought it, even though it was very expensive and it was a foolish thing to do. We moved in and got ready to start a new and improved life, but in reality we had the same old worn out marriage and the same old worn out dreams that could not be recovered.

The kids were teenagers now and went to high school and had their own transportation. They left the house at 8AM and usually didn’t get home until 5PM. My ex-husband was his same workaholic self. He only lived for his job, that’s what his life revolved around. That left me feeling superfluous and emotionally useless and only handy for cleaning house and doing laundry. I certainly did not feel like a beloved member of a close united family.

I felt trapped by my lifestyle and all the accoutrements that came with it. It was an emotional and a financial burden and I felt that I was juggling them both and not managing very well. I started to feel more desperate and wanted there to be a way out, I wanted to walk away from it all, but I didn’t know how. I felt like I had been the spill of the family unit all those years and now I felt like I was just a person carrying a burden that was too heavy for her and emotionally isolated. I felt very lonely.

I think all along, through all of these life events, I was regularly suffering from depressions, but I had never had the opportunity to have been diagnosed and put on medication, so I blamed a lot of my unhappiness on my circumstances. I didn’t see the pattern of repeating somberness and despair, alternated by good moods. Nobody pointed it out to me and all was blamed on the circumstances. I was so used to feelings of desperation, that I assumed they belonged to my life. That I was doomed to have them, punished by a cruel God.

How I ended this period of me life, I will tell you about in the next episode. It is heart wrenching. I will need some courage to write it down.

Ciao…

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I can’t write about my memories all the time. My head will get stuck in them and sometimes that is not a pleasant feeling, depending on the memories. Instead, I will write about what is going on right now.

I had told you all very proudly that I had stopped taking the Temazepam during the day. Well, as of yesterday I am back on it. It didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped and I am still not back to normal. The first days there were no problems, then I got a hypo manic mood and after that I went to hell in a hand basket with obsessive thoughts and feelings of panic. I tried to keep my wits about me, but found it very hard and finally decided to go back to the Temazepam, which is slowly bringing back some peace inside of me.

I am not a happy camper. There are too many insecurities in my life right now. I still don’t have my rent and medical care subsidies. I don’t know how much my next welfare check is going to be and if it will be enough to live on, and I got word from the Sonoma County Courthouse that my notarization for the request for the marriage certificate is not good enough. On top of that the dog and the cats have fleas.

The last problem is easiest to fix and I am working on that right now with special products and lots of vacuuming and the washing of various items. I will have that problem taken care of in the shortest time.

I also thought last month that I would go with a different Internet provider, but that turned into one great big hassle with nothing but problems, so at the last minute, I decided to stay with the one I had and canceled the cancellation. At the time they told me that would be no problem, but I am waiting today for them to pull the plug on me anyway and leave me without Internet and telephone and cable TV. It will be a small miracle if everything does keep working. Light a candle for me, will you?

Such are the woes and worries of every day life and when I wasn’t taking the Temazepam I began to obsessively worry and panic about these things and could not look at them objectively and rationally anymore.

I thought the dog had a skin condition, because I never saw a flea and he scratched very selectively. I very innocently took him to the vet who soon set me straight and sent me home with a bunch of products that seem to be doing the job well.

I do notice that the Uberhund is panting a lot when we go for walks. I blamed it on the hot weather, but this morning he was doing it again and it was still cool outside. I have to keep an eye on that and see how it develops. I am thinking heart, lungs, and want to have it investigated, but I won’t run to the vet yet, because the Uberhund doesn’t enjoy it very much and we were just there.

The Exfactor and I are developing a normal relationship. he can come here for a cup of coffee and take care of whatever business needs to be taken care of and we can sit and chat and exchange thoughts in a very reasonable way. He is even starting to feel comfortable enough so he will talk about the Paramount on occasion and that is fine with me. He doesn’t have to keep that part of his life a secret from me. It isn’t necessary. I am not jealous and not out to put her in a bad daylight.

I do see that, of the two of us, I have changed the most. He is still his usual self and i don’t know if that is good, but maybe in the circle of friends that he finds himself in that is okay and he is accepted. He is still very reactionary and radical and sometimes hotheaded about issues. An anarchist a bit, whereas I am much more conventional and middle of the road, although I do have my opinions and I do swing to the left, but that is nothing special in the Netherlands. I am just an ordinary Dutch socialist woman.

Well, I must be off to the post office and the grocery store. My favorite place to hang out. There is always that endless supply of milk to get and the dog and cat food.

You all have a most pleasant day.

Ciao…

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Suburbia.

We moved to suburbia and became regular middle class  American citizens with a cat and a dog and 2.4 children.  The .4 children was in my mind and a figment of my imagination, the third child I never had.

We had a nice house on a nice street. The elementary school was at the end of it with a nice park next to it and everybody had a large front yard  for the kids to play in that populated the neighborhood.

Our front yard had a lawn with in the middle an olive tree with silvery gray leaves. It was an elegant tree, but I can’t for the life of me remember if it produced olives, not being fond of them at all and conveniently having forgotten that detail. My ex husband, who liked to trim bushes and trees to within an inch of their lives, trimmed the olive tree one day to the point that it was just a stumpy shadow of its former self and it never fully recovered. from the shock.

A path led to the walled in courtyard which you entered by a rod iron gate. About a third of the courtyard was covered by a trellis and over it grew a humongous bougainvillea  which always seemed to bloom and and the blossoms were always scattered over the patio under it. The kids had a swing here and always had competitions to see if they could swing as high as the trellis.  In an alcove in the wall, there was some exotic spiny deserty looking plant, which we completely neglected, but which thrived anyway.

We also had a backyard, which was rather boring and consisted of a patio and flowerbeds in which nothing much could be grown, because the dirt was hard and dry and we had a grassy area. We did have a ficus benjamina there, that started out as a houseplant and had grown to treelike proportions and another tree of which I never knew the name. They came in very handy when teaching my kids the old Dutch tradition of tent building for which you need rope and clothes pins and old sheets and blankets.

We had some very nice neighbors with a swimming pool and their youngest daughter always played with my kids and as a result, many happy hours were spent by them in the water playing Marco Polo.  The neighbors were Turkish Jews and the mother baked special sweets such as baklava every month and filled the freezer with them, so it was always a treat to be asked over for Turkish coffee, because you knew she would bring out a tray of these sweets and your mouth would water thinking about them.  They were very nice people and well educated and real New Americans in the sense that they tried to make a success of themselves no matter how tough it got sometimes.

Across the street from us lived a family from  Japan, of which only the husband spoke some English. We got along famously and did a lot of bowing and smiling  and saying, “Yes, yes, I see.”  They had two little boys who were crazy about my daughter and she spent many happy hours there, somehow communicating with them.

I made my friends and they were all mothers whose children went to the same elementary school as my kids did and who all lived in the same neighborhood.  Luckily, these were educated and intelligent women who were interested in the things I was interested in at the time and they gave me a lot of support that I needed then as a mom and a wife of a  man who was climbing up the corporate ladder. I was not exactly cut out for the life of a middle class American housewife. Let’s just say that it didn’t come naturally to me.

I have less specific exciting memories of this time. It was sort of a ordinary life in which I did ordinary things, or tried to anyway. I did a lot of volunteer work at the school and for the Parents Teacher Association.  Because my daughter ran track, and was very good at it,  I became involved with that and coached little kids for a while.

Once a week I and a group of my friends went out for breakfast. That was a standing tradition. Some of us went out for lunch once a week if we could swing it. Three of us went out for dinner and to the theater once a month. We took our kids to see all the new movies and ate popcorn until we were sick of it.

At Christmas time, we went caroling  and drank hot mulled wine afterwards. We always had a party too at Christmas time and invited about 25 0r 30 of our friends and enjoyed the food and the wine and the silly games we played.

For a while we were hooked on playing Trivial Pursuit and we would get together at someone’s house and form teams and have a real competition. We also did this with Charades.

I guess what I am saying is that these were not very interesting years, although in a way they were safe years. I was unhappy in my marriage, but I was bolstered by my environment. I could have gone on forever like that, except that I kept getting real or psychosomatic illnesses. That was my body’s way of saying that all was not alright.

I could have grown old like that, though, and never have felt really happy. I kept telling myself that the outside elements counted. The kids, the house, the cars, the furniture, the friends, but I was fooling myself and I found out how much I was when one day we had to move far away and I had to leave that safe life behind me and start all over again.

That’s a story for another time.

Ciao…

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Hollerin’ and yellin’.

One time, when we were staying with my ex in laws in the desert, the kids and I walked away from the house to the foot of the mountain, to an area that was strewn about with rocks and boulders and I put my foot on a small boulder, cowboy style, as if I was going to chew and spit my tobacco, and I showed them the crack in the bolder and told them how that came about because of the constant extreme difference in temperatures from hot during the day to cold during the night. We all bent over to have a closer look at the crack on which my tennis shoed foot was resting and what did we see there, lurking in the dark recesses all curled up and ready to strike.? Yes, a rattlesnake. Oops!

I very carefully removed my foot from the bolder and quietly stepped back and then said to the kids, “Let’s get the hell out of here, ” or something along those lines. I was always such a naive dummy, that I forgot when I was in rattlesnake country and I never took any precautions and I think it is only luck that prevented me from any worse encounters.

When we lived in the mountains, one of our neighbors encountered a rattlesnake who had come to close to his house to bask in the sun and since he had five kids playing there he didn’t like that very much and he chopped of its head with an ax. He was a Mormon, that is why he had five kids and he and his wife never drank any coffee, but some substitute made of grains. We heard much later, after they had moved to Oklahoma of all places, that he abused his wife and that there had been a messy divorce and I am sure it doesn’t say anywhere in the Book of Mormon that you can beat your wife.

The town we lived in had about a population of 600 people. There was one church, one school and one little grocery store and one Avon lady. Everybody knew everything about everybody else and in their delicate Christian way they gossiped. If you wanted to have an affair, you couldn’t have one in town. You had to go ‘down hill’ and have one with a ‘flat lander’ as we called them.

In the wintertime, all the ‘flat landers’ came up hill to play in the snow, which they didn’t know how to drive in, causing hilarious road slipping scenes, because they all had cans of beer with them and were feeling no pain. They would find a slope and get out their inner tubes and whoop and holler and make spectacles of themselves and we would all shake our heads and say mockingly, “Those flat landers, they are a different breed, ” forgetting that not too long ago, we had been flat landers ourselves.

One time, all of our neighbors chased a brown bear through the woods. It had come too close to our houses and we decided to scare it away with a lot of hollerin’ and yellin’. We had big sticks and beat on the trees with them and that poor bear didn’t know what hit him. He turned around and made a beeline out of there so fast and ran back into the woods and we never saw him again.

Coyotes would come down from the upper canyon and at night you could hear them howling at the moon together. They caught and ate our cats, so if your cat was missing, there was not much sense in looking for it, either that or a hawk got it. It was a cruel world.

An ice cold stream ran through the canyon and in one place it formed a deep clear pool of water were we would swim. You could look all the way to the bottom and imagine water snakes swimming around in it, but they were just dead branches from the trees. The water was very cold, but on a very hot summer day it was the best thing. The kids had fun building dams and trying to divert different parts of the stream.

There was a neglected apple orchard at the other side of the canyon up on a hill in the bright sunshine. In the fall we went over there in the pick up truck with our friends and picked barrels of small tart apples with which we made apple sauce and apple pies. We ate apples untill we were sick of them.

At night, when the weather still allowed it, we sat out on the veranda with our neighbors and drank wine and brandy cappuccinos with whipped cream on top and in our slightly inebriated state we discussed the state of the world and all the problems of mankind. I don’t remember how many problems we solved, we were a bit young and naive, maybe. Full of good will, that’s for sure.

We had many impromptu barbecues. Everybody would bring a dish of food and we would slap some meat on the barbecue and have a great old time, because in the mountains, time did not exist. Kids roamed around all over the place and went to to bed when they were tired, which they were quickly from the healthy mountain air and all the playing they did. Grown ups wandered into each other’s houses as if we were all family to each other.

One time, there had been a lot of rain, which caused a landslide across the only road in and we were cut off from the world for a couple of days. We didn’t mind. We always had enough food in the freezer and it did give an extra feeling of isolation. Sometimes the electricity went off and we heated the house with a wood stove and and read by petroleum lamps.

Well, one day we had to move out into the real world again and move away into a different place called suburbia, which had some of its own charms and which I will tell you about another time. My mountain years were my fairytale years. Nothing seemed real then. It was as if we were caught up in a story.

One of my best friends still lives there. She is a real mountain woman and I would give anything to be sitting on her veranda tonight with a brandy cappuccino and talk for about four hours. We have a lot of catching up to do. Maybe some day I will make the journey back.

Here’s to good memories, may you all be able to dip into yours and come out with a smile on your face.

Ciao…

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