***NOTE: My Country Outfitter boot giveaway will start October 9th! You still have time to subscribe to this blog so my witty and profound musings (and giveaway announcements) find their way to your inbox.***
The other night at volleyball, I realized I’d been playing that sport for 25 years. A quarter of a century.
I never get carded anymore.
My parents are trying to decide when to take social security. How did I get old enough to have parents who are even thinking of social security?
These, plus the occasional grey hair I find, are simply indications of the passage of time. I’m getting older. Not old, mind you, but old enough that no one says “oh, you’re just a baby!” when I tell them how old I am. They used to.
It’s for these and many other reasons that I take such pleasure in the fact that, when I get together with my parents (who live a good distance away at Camp Grown Ups, aka retired Florida), I retreat to the version of myself that reminds me of my youth.
It’s the version that just loves when mom cooks for us (even while feeling guilty at the hundreds of meals she’s cooked while we sat around being lazy). This version of me never fails to let dad get under my skin with some comment/feedback about something, only to realize later he’s 100% right (but not about politics. Sorry, Dad. It’s your fault for sending me to a liberal arts college. 🙂 ) And I confess; I love that my parents always bring me presents and/or take me shopping.
This year, there was some serious imported booty being delivered. Mom brought me this bright, cheerful new quilt for my guest room.
Dad went a little nuts with the Halloween decor for my office, and also got me this pretty little thing from Alaska. Note that the “raven” is a symbol of intelligence and wit. Dad is clearly not biased.
However, that was just the beginning. As per usual, Mom and I had to go shopping for supplies, since I inevitably have nothing but two bottles of cider and a four Laughing Cow cheese wedges in my fridge. We generally end up with food and, of course a “few little items” for the house. This trip included a coffee table-turned-luggage rack for my guest closet, as well as a new rug for the hallway.
And then, tradition follows that we all go shopping together and Dad gets me something, usually something whimsical. This time, it was a pretty/colorful doormat (I wasn’t aware I needed a new one, but Dad was determined) and flowers for my front stoop. He even swept the grass cuttings for me. And I managed to wheedle my way to this spiffy new lamp for my bedroom.
|Guess where that painting is from? It’s where
I’ll be spending Christmas this year!
It’s comforting that even after 36 years, my parents still want to “buy me stuff.” It wouldn’t bother me if they stopped, but I won’t protest too much either, methinks. We all get too much pleasure from the rituals of shopping and gift-giving, both spontaneous and planned. I don’t take it for granted. It’s another sign of just how lucky I am to have their everlasting support.
I drew the line at the Romney/Ryan bumper sticker, though. That one went back to Florida. But the goofy sparkly cat for Halloween…he stayed. 🙂
|Sadie the superdog is unimpressed with my new decor.|