A 5 Star Year for Betsy

As we wrap up on 2020, I can honestly say that it has probably been the most uncertain, difficult year on record. Until this year, my life has been without a lot of crazy turmoil. So when I saw a coffee cup for sale that had 2020 with one out of 5 stars filled in, I thought, “That pretty well sums it up.” And unless you invested in the plastics industry and made a kazillion dollars this year, 2020 has probably been one of the more difficult years for you too. The other day I was looking at my dog, happily lounging in our living room. I was home because of yet, another covid shut-down, and thought “This really has been The Year of Betsy.” Betsy has been our “problem child.” She came to us as a post-Molly, empty nest solution. She has had behavior problems, allergy problems, and injury problems. She is nicknamed “Miss Barky-pants” and “Woofy Woofersons” because of her barking problems. She is no longer allowed in the front yard without being tied out because of her annoying habit of bolting into the road after neighbors who are simply trying to enjoy their daily dog-walking sessions. In spite of all that, 2020 has been a 5 star year for Betsy. It started out like any other year, with she and I taking morning walks and the rest of her days being spent in the garage while Tom and I went to work. But when Covid hit and the shut downs happened, not only did Tom join us at home and on our walks, but our son (her most favorite human in the world) came home from college to weather out the lockdown. Suddenly, Betsy had it made. She had two parents walking with her daily, and almost 8 consecutive months of company. She got to go on additional 4 mile walks in town several days a week with me and my friends. Sam took her out most evenings to either go play frisbee golf, go to the beach, or be the rock star at the park with her own frisbee. Betsy resumed agility classes and we also worked a little bit on AKC Rally skills in the back yard. If I were to guess, the highlight of her summer was probably the day she got to try out real sheep herding. She had so much supervision that were able to stay on top of her itchy foot licking and catch it before she turned her feet into raw hamburger. When I went back to work in September, Sam’s job allowed him to remain remote. Eventually, he moved out and Betsy returned to the garage for a short time, until we shut down again. This second round of shut downs gave me a little bit of crafting time to make her a new fleece tie blanket and matching snuffle mat. Betsy doesn’t care about Covid-19, the presidential election, or the economy. If she can have the ones she loves close by for the majority of the time, it’s 5 out of 5 stars for her. And if I take a moment to count my blessings, it is for me too.

Once Upon a Skunk

I have often said that I would rather run into a bear than a skunk. Actually, I have come in close contact with a (small) bear and after we both stood there in awe and wonder of each other, we simultaneously realized the danger and quickly went our separate ways. That’s not to say that it could be catastrophically worse the next time (and I hope there won’t be a next time). But for me, I have a strong aversion to skunks bordering on irrational fear. It seems to have gotten worse over the years. There’s actually a name for it. Mephitophobia. I didn’t realize the level of phobia I have regarding skunks, until recently. It started out like any other night. My dog, Betsy, was unusually wound up. I attribute it to the fact that she is getting a lot less exercise than she was when I was home over the spring and summer months. So I suggested that we head out in the backyard to play frisbee. It was dark out, so I flipped on the back light. Now, I usually scan the back yard quickly for any sign of a white stripe, but I was negligent. I didn’t even consider it. I swung open the door and Betsy immediately took a hard left and pounced. At first, I thought it was a cat, until she jumped back and I saw the telltale white tail in the air. It was at this point that I lost my mind. I started yelling and jumping up and down trying to get her to come back inside (mistake #1). But for some reason, she seemed to want to investigate this strange new friend further. By the time I got her into the garage, the damage had been done. We proceeded to hose her down immediately (mistake #2), and donned with rubber gloves, we used what we had, roughly half of a 32 oz. bottle of Dawn dish soap. But it didn’t seem to work at all. Our entire house reeked. I swore I could taste it. The stench seemed to coat my nostrils. The level of anxiety that this particular incident invoked rivaled that of a car accident or natural disaster. I was a wreck. Would I smell like skunk at work the next day? How long would our house stink? This whole incident was a practice in calming down and reminding myself that it could, in fact be worse. I could have gotten mauled by a bear, right? I definitely won’t be as lax the next time I swing open the back door after sunset. The funny thing was, that no one really batted an eyelash. “Oh, that happened to my dog last week,” my friend said casually. And after a few days it really wasn’t that big of a deal. My husband seemed somewhat amused when he said, “We just need to learn to get along with our skunk friends.” That’s fine. As long as they keep their distance.

Those Pesky Left Turns

 I love fall. The days are getting cooler. The leaves are changing. Decorations are adorable. But the real reason I love fall is that I once again can make left turns in my car. I understand that the summer residents and tourists breathe life into our area and I can appreciate that. I really can. I have friends who are business owners and I want nothing more for them than that they have successful summer seasons. But when the summer winds down and the streets begin to empty out, I am ready. 

During the summer months I drive miles out of my way to be able to do simple things that I take for granted in the winter. Like many locals, I know the ways to avoid Charlevoix bridge traffic (for the most part) and drive to the intersections where I will be let in. I also have learned to pre plan my errands so that I can avoid making left turns. I do make the occasional “Michigan Left” (turn right, turn left into a business parking lot, turn right into traffic), but that’s only if I didn’t plan ahead. For example, if I have several errands to make in Petoskey on a given day during the summer, I’ll put them in order so that the only left turns I have to make are at the lights. It has driven my family members crazy on more than one occasion. “Nope. Can’t go to JC Penny yet. We have to go to Dunham’s, Marshall’s, Walmart, Aldi, Hobby Lobby, and then JC Penny. In that order.” “Hungry for Wendy’s? You’ll have to wait until we are on our way home because there is no way in heck I’m turning left into that restaurant and then trying to merge into traffic again.” 

There are other reasons I like the slower pace of the fall and winter months. Horn-honking is rare from September to April. I can flake out at the traffic light and nobody honks at me to get out of the way. I rarely get passed on US-31 and I don’t feel the rush to pass anyone either. From September to April I almost never get caught behind a giant RV towing a 4 door Jeep. I also just like when things slow down in town. Getting a table in a restaurant is much easier, and to my husband’s pleasure, all you can eat fish frys resume after Labor Day. 

As always, I wish the summer residents and tourists adieu for another busy season and bid them well as they return to wherever it is they hibernate for the winter. As it is in every tourist town, when the snow melts, we will welcome back the seasonal residents. Once again, the familiar signs of summer will be that first honking horn, getting caught at the bridge, and the inability to make a left turn.

Camping Girl

 Camping. A summer pastime that I absolutely love. I don’t camp nearly as often as I used to, or would like to. Growing up, camping was our weekend getaway. We had our family camper on a little campground at a place called Shady Rest in Jones, Michigan. I have many fond memories from spending time there. So to me, camping is in my blood.

Our friends recently invited us along on a camping trip up in the U.P. Since they all have campers, they have been suggesting that we get one and questioned why we don’t. We used to have a camper, but when the maintenance became more frequent than the camping itself, we had to let it go. It was around that time that we did some tent camping and found out we liked the ease of it. We found that don’t need to pull a camper behind our truck in order to enjoy the outdoors. We insisted that tent camping is way easier than hauling a trailer. The only problem can be rain. Nobody likes to sit out the rain in a wet tent. However, when it came time to pack for our trip, the list of things we needed to bring quickly got overwhelming. I was starting to think that this wasn’t going to be as simple as I remembered. The top items on the list were the biggies. Tent, air mattress, bedding. And I couldn’t forget the flashlights for those late night trips to the restroom.

And then there was the cooking. We needed to take cooking pans, plates, silverware, napkins, and something to wash dishes in. I also needed to have a place to store food. Since we don’t have a refrigerator, we needed to plan for a cooler and lots of ice refills. I reminded Tom that all of that needed to be secured because of bears.

The list continued to include activities like kayaks, bikes, and motorcycles. Should we bring yard games? Card games? Fishing equipment?

And then were the clothes. The northern UP was calling for weather in the 60’s which isn’t exactly shorts and t-shirt weather. So in addition to those, we packed jeans, sweatshirts, long sleeve t-shirts, and extra pairs of dry socks and shoes. As I thought of more things we needed to bring, my list went from one page to two pages.

I know it seems like most of this stuff would already be in a camper so that we’d only have to grab some clothes and hook on. But no problem. We got this! It turns out that we were right. We don’t need a camper. We can simply fit everything we need for tent camping neatly our haul-behind cargo trailer. And hope it doesn’t rain.

Mystery Solved

I spent 3 days trying to figure out why my forearms, elbows, and right bicep hurt so bad, until it came to me: the cartwheel. It all started when my son posted a picture on Instagram of his wife doing a handstand on one of the piers in Marquette. My husband decided that he wanted to recreate the picture when we traveled there this past weekend, only he’d be the one doing the handstand on the pier. “I don’t even know if I can do a handstand,” he wondered. “This could get real bad, real fast, “ I thought in response. When we got to the pier and discovered how narrow it was, we began to have serious second thoughts. “Do you realize that if you make one wrong move, you’ll end up falling 15 feet into those rocks down there?” Tom said to me. I really didn’t want to see either one of us over-throw our legs while trying to kick up into a handstand on a 3 foot wide pier. I mean, how in the world would the ambulance get out there? Let’s be smart here, people.  “Maybe I can do a cartwheel and you can just take a picture of that,” I suggested.

There are a couple things I need to admit here. I am 52 years old. I haven’t done a cartwheel since 1993. I have never done a cartwheel on a 3 foot wide cement pier.

But that shouldn’t matter should it? I mean, c’mon. It’s a cartwheel. Historically, cartwheels are one of those things that seem to come naturally to girls. Just like riding a bike…isn’t it? What could possibly go wrong? So I took a look at the pier, stretched my arms in the air, and froze. Momentarily. Then I just went for it. My body did nothing that it was supposed to. Apparently my muscle memory had expired. All of those thousands and thousands of cartwheels, one-handed cartwheels, and ariel cartwheels? Gone. Remember watching the boys in middle school gym class attempt cartwheels? That’s what it felt like and according to the 17 pictures Tom took as this ridiculous demonstration took place, is exactly what it looked like. After I deleted all of those pictures, I decided that either I should never attempt a cartwheel again, or I really need to work on my cartwheel executions. Which brings me back to the arm pain 3 days later. Apparently, these arms can no longer hold up my body, even briefly. And remember how I said that it was Tom’s idea to recreate the handstand picture to begin with? Those of you who know him, know he’s not a handstand kind of guy. But thanks to modern camera-phone technology I am happy to report that we successfully staged Tom doing what looked something like a handstand, snapped a picture, and sent it off to the kids. Nobody fell off the pier. And only one of us has the arm pain to show for it.  

Covid Lock Down Thank Yous

As we slowly return to semi-normalcy, to a world with more masks and less handshakes, I feel like I need to acknowledge the things which made my life in quasi-quarantine more bearable. It is time for me to say “Thank you.”

Thank you sweat pants. Your casual ease with which you provided me relaxation in a time of stress was immeasurable. The way you coordinated effortlessly with slippers and a sweater when I was teaching Zoom lessons goes without saying. You became activewear, loungewear, workwear and sleepwear. I will never take you for grated again.

Thank you eyeglasses. You gave the contacts and make-up a well-deserved break. You were introduced to the world of online church, Zoom staff meetings, and Netflix binge watching. Without eyeglasses and Zoom filters, my face would not have remained virtually make-up free for longer than I care to admit.

And to follow up, thank you Netflix for your eerily coincidental drop of Tiger King. That oddly addictive, inappropriate, but undeniably entertaining show provided hours of discussion, meme-sharing, TikTok dances, and uncomfortable moments while introducing us to the bizarre world of Joe Exotic. And don’t forget that now you have us all wondering, Did Carol Baskin really kill her husband? The world may never know.

Another shout out goes to my living room furniture. Without you, I would not know what it was like to read, work-from-home, watch TV, and eat my dinner all for hours at a time from a reclined position. I never knew that one could lay around for so long that the hip joints could actually begin to ache.

It is worth mentioning again that I would also like to recognize and thank you, Pringles. Your crunchy, salty goodness provided immeasurable enjoyment while still allowing me to continue a semi-healthy diet. You sat alongside grilled cheese sandwiches, salads, avocado toast, and Spaghetti-O’s. In a time of uncertainty, I always knew that a quick trip to the gas station could replace that cheerful red paper can in the pantry between the quinoa and Ramen noodles.

Finally, I want to thank Zoom and Google Hangouts, and Facetime. You provided hours of work-from-home capabilities, meetings, virtual church, virtual happy-hours, and phone conversations with friends and family. We were able to connect in ways that only the Jetsons or voyagers on the Starship Enterprise could have experienced in my childhood. We connected when connection shouldn’t have been possible.

Never in my life have I experienced anything like this stay-at-home order, and I may never again. I will never forget this time spent at home. And now I really know what it means to appreciate the little things, like sweatpants and eyeglasses.  

Mask Fashion

I was recently scrolling on Zulily, the online shopping site that has literally everything. And by everything, I mean, if you’re trying to live a minimalist lifestyle, don’t ever, ever go on Zulily. Things are usually priced very well and it is extremely easy to go overboard replacing everything in a standard sized walk in closet in a matter of minutes (don’t ask me how I know this). When I watched The Minimalists movie on Netfilx, I was introduced to “fast fashion,” which is detrimental to someone trying to NOT be a shopaholic. According to Investopedia.com, “Fast fashion is the term used to describe clothing designs that move quickly from the catwalk to stores to meet new trends. The collections are often based on designs presented at Fashion Week events. Fast fashion allows mainstream consumers to purchase trendy clothing at an affordable price,” (https://www.investopedia.com/terms/f/fast-fashion.asp). So as I was scrolling, looking to update my work-at-home sweatpants wardrobe, I came across “fashion masks.” That’s right- masks are not just necessary to avoid spreading Covid-19, they are now a fashion accessory in America. I knew it was going to happen. When I first started making masks back in March using left over fabric, I was thinking “Oh, that would look cute with my blue sweater!” Really. I was way ahead of the fashion masks curve. I started making masks with bandana fabric and thought, “Oh, this is cute!” Cute? I started seeing people wearing masks with prints that most likely reflected their interests such as cats, sports teams, and camouflage. When my educator friends and I started talking about returning to school in the fall (most likely) wearing masks,  I mentioned that we would probably need masks for various holidays and masks to coordinate with our outfits. My friends started placing their orders for Detroit Tigers, MSU, U of M, and Green Bay Packers masks, among others. Our fun sock collections will be complimented by our equally fun mask collections. I really think this kind of mask fashion is only limited to the US, because when I watch clips of other countries like China or Italy, I don’t see anybody wearing Sponge Bob Square Pants masks. If you search for “homemade masks” on Pinterest, you can find masks made out of socks, no-sew bandana masks, masks made from gallon milk jugs (I kid you not) and masks made out of bra cups (again, not kidding). I just hope we don’t see one that says “Fruit of the Loom” across the top. That’s one fast fashion/repurposing trend that I hope to never see on Zulily.