Recombobulation Area

11 Aug

Dis.com.bob.u.late / verb; To upset, confuse, disconcert, or frustrate.
Vocabulary.com says, “It is a fun, fancy word for ‘confuse.’ Then, they used it in this sentence: If something has put you in a state where you don’t know up from down and you can’t spell your own name, you may be discombobulated.”

Or, to quote Jeff Foxworthy, “You may be a redneck… ” but, I digress.

When the word was first used circa 1820-1835, it was a fanciful alliteration of discompose or discomfort.
Although I t’s popularity is in the top 40% of words, the only person I’ve ever heard use the term was my mother. Until recently.

When I went to our Sister’s Reunion two weeks ago I flew into Mitchell airport in Milwaukee, WI. which boasts the world’s only recombobulation areas, one on each of it’s three concourses. Yep, just three concourses. Everything you can need and want, in an easy to navigate airport. I love MKE, it’s calm and civilized, and it reminds me of Austin’s Mueller Airport back in the 80’s.

IMG_1774

Since I flew TSA pre-checked, I didn’t have to suffer the usual indignities of long lines and strip-searches, and only put my purse through the x-ray machine. Looking up at the end of the inspection I noticed a large sign that said RECOMBOBULATION AREA above the hallway leading to the terminals, and laughed out loud. The guard looked at me quizzically, and I pointed to the sign, “That’s really funny!” He looked at the sign, then back to me, his expression changing not one iota. I figured it’d be a bad idea to encourage him to “lighten up,” so I kept my thought to myself and moved on.

Wouldn’t it be nice if there were recombobulation areas all over town? I envision little places with tiny gardens and water features where you could pull over after driving on MoPac or I-35…

Maybe that need to recombobulate is exactly what has driven the success of Starbucks, and the plethora of coffee shops everywhere. Maybe that’s exactly what bars and cocktail lounges have been providing for us since Prohibition ended!

Next time you find yourself craving alone time with your cappuccino, or making arrangements to meet friends at a local watering-hole, or to ‘paint, while drinking,’ know that there’s a higher purpose at play: you’re recombobulating!

XO Donna

 

Still Laughing

31 Jul

IMG_1608

We had only been in our motor-home for 10 days, and I left to go see my three sisters for our Second Annual Sister’s Reunion. Continue reading

This Old Thing

13 Jul

IMG_0015

We are now living in, and loving, our motor-home. The RV resort where we are staying greatly contibutes to our overall enjoyment of this experience with it’s beautifully maintained grounds, the view and privacy we have, and the ability to exercise daily. Continue reading

Almost “Go Time”

29 Jun

 

launch
There are only a few items left to be given away or picked up. The furniture we’ve chosen to keep; his China and glassware, and my art all go into a small climate controlled storage unit… in case we want a house again later.

We have an agreement that in 6 months we are going to take a day and revisit what’s in storage – especially seasonal clothes – and do more clearing. But, not now.

None of this letting-go has been as much of a challenge as turning-in my leased Mini Cooper tomorrow. This will leave me “without my own wheels” for the first time since I was 17. As a fiercely  independent woman, I’ve struggled with this… what does it mean for me, or about me, if it means anything at all? What do you think?

I have decided that, like so much in life, we GIVE meaning (for better or worse) to the events in our lives. It’s not like I’m stranded –  we’ve still got a truck and a motorcycle.
Being able to have this conversation more than once, and many others like it, are the reason I know we can make this move and enjoy it.

They say that the two happiest days of a boat-owner’s life are the day he buys a boat… and the day he sells it! That was how we felt about owning our house.

It’s taken us 24 months to be ready to move into a motor-home – which we will do on Tuesday, July 4th. This will be a memorable Independence Day for us. The movers come the next day to take our things to storage, as do the people from St. Vincent de Paul Society. Did you know that you can donate mattresses in good condition? Neither did we. They are  sanitized and then donated, or sold affordably.

We’ve bought ourselves a few house-warming presents; a spotted cowhide rug, an ottoman with storage inside, (necessary) and some very soft, very artsy pillows to replace my scratchy kilim pillows. And, of course, getting our bar properly set up for guests is of utmost importance. Sure, we could use plastic cups, but how sexy is that?

cocktails
I’ve found the perfect, sturdy, multi-purpose glasses that will serve wine, a salt-rimmed margarita, or a hearty Old Fashioned, fashionably.
Y’all are always welcome to come visit. There will be photos next time, and I hope you will be in one of them.

XO
Donna

The Scarlet Letter

15 Jun

letterA

Let’s talk about vitamin A, sunscreens for our face and body, high SPF factors, and our health. With summer just around the corner, we can be prepared.

Continue reading

Easy, like a Sunday morning…

1 Jun

IMG_5417

I’d been feeling stuck this week. Sad. Resistant. Frustrated. And had even gone so far as to question my long-held belief about wanting to live a gypsy life.

Continue reading

Wide Awake

18 May

Like a Dali painting, things are surreal around here… we’ve made plans to move in (gulp) six weeks. I tell the story of this decision here: bit.ly/2r9vlAz  at 1010ParkPlace in, “It Feels Like Freedom to Me.”

I think I have been handling everything well, I’m excited and even eager for the freedom this next phase will bring. But, I am not sleeping. I keep waking up around 3:30 a.m. Then my brain turns on… and that’s it, I’m wide awake!
I make bargains with “the obsessive part of me,” promising I will pay attention to it later if it lets me go back to sleep now. I try breathing and meditation. After an hour, I get up and go lie on the couch and read another Carl Hiaasen novel. At 6:00, when my sweetie gets up, I just get on with my day.

During the day I am doing the work that needs to be done. But at night my brain is going into overdrive, trying to manage the entire Universe. Serenity Prayer, my ass. My subconscious has it’s own ideas; “Help me change what I cannot accept. And control, well, basically… everything. Amen.”  Has this ever happened to you over a big change? How do you handle obsessing over things?

IMG_1438The other evening I had some alone-time, and I was going through a box of fabric that I couldn’t let go of during our last two moves.  In it is an Indian bedspread given to me years ago by a dear friend. He died of AIDS in ’96 or ’97… and I can’t bear to part with it. Being over-tired, and consequently too hyper-active to read, (we don’t outgrow this stuff) I decided to whip up a summer dress like the ones I’ve been seeing on Pinterest. Yep, I know how to sew. My Mom was great at it – she always made us matching dresses when we were children. Later, she made our skirts and blouses, some maxi-dresses, and even my favorite prom gown in 1968.  A simple, pale pink satin with a vee-neck and ruffle. I spent hours straightening my hair and thanks to Mom making that gown, I felt as chic as Cher. IMG_1434

I used to love sitting beside her sewing machine, talking and watching what she did. She chain-smoked and cursed the whole time, but she managed to made it look effortless. The sewing, I mean!

I really enjoyed how focused I became, how relaxed I felt for the first time in days. I was surprised that I remembered how to fill and thread the bobbin. I was surprised I  got my seams so straight without a guide. I wasn’t surprised by my cursing, or the fact that my math calculations were as bad as ever. While my dress turned out beautifully, it is a good TWO SIZES too large! Rather than looking lithe and of-the-moment in my Boho sundress, I look as if I borrowed a muumuu from Mama Cass!

IMG_1425This weekend, since it’s going to rain, I’m certain I will remember how to take a dress apart and fix my mistakes. I’m going to look lithe, dammit!  Tearing out all of those seams and re-cutting my pattern will make a great escape from packing.

As a waiter recently said to me when I pointed out that he had brought me the wrong order,  “Hey… you can’t win ’em all, right?” I guess not .

XO Donna