
Can it be that another week has slipped through the cracks? Where is time going these days? I got up this morning and realized it was Friday, and it was back to work and it seemed like I had just finished my last shift which ended nearly a week ago. Whew.
Yesterday was to be my first “free day” in a really long time. Boo and I have been taking up space in our own digs this week, rather than being at Richard’s as we have been so often lately. I got a great deal of catching up accomplished while being left to my own devices, and was ready to indulge in a day of total abandon. The plan was to pull on my baggy shorts and a tee shirt, and binge watch cooking shows, eat bad take out, and generally do a whole lot of absolutely nothing. As often happens with best laid plans, these blew out the window before the sun had a chance to peek over the horizon.
I may have mentioned along the way, I am about to begin some pro bono work for a local non-profit centered around a historic convent and museum. This will be number two as far as the non-profits in my life, as I have been producing a monthly newsletter for the local food pantry for the past ten years. This addition to my workload, I feel, will mean my already full calendar may have reached it’s saturation point. Several weeks ago, a meeting was set up for me to tour the facility I would be working for, so that I could get a better understanding of what the venue was like and meet the players involved. Yay. That meeting, unfortunately, ended up being cancelled. As the gods would have it, they reached out once again to me night before last via email asking if possibly I could get up there yesterday for a meeting and do the tour. Sigh. Kay. I waved goodbye to my lazy day with great reluctance. Looking longingly at my TV set, I began the process of getting ready for my meeting, when the phone rang. A friend of mine, Barbara, living in the same area as the venue I was to be visiting, was not feeling well. Her roommate was on the phone asking if I could meet Barb at the ER as the paramedics were transporting her there to be evaluated. Normally, her roommate would be able to accompany her, but she suffered a family tragedy this week and has more than enough on her plate. Hearing this, I realized I would need to take my navy blue shirt out of my closet with the big red “S” emblazoned across the front and hook up my cape for this mission.

My appointment at the museum was at 11:00. It was now 8:15. Hurriedly, I pulled myself together, and hopped in the car after grabbing a water, a banana and a book (this was not my first rodeo). I spent many an hour sitting in the ER when both Rick and Dale were fighting their battles, and know you need reading material, hydration, and a snack, to survive unscathed. I am most familiar with the amount of time it can take to get things done there. Up the hill I headed, arriving at the ER entrance forty five minutes later. Going through the usual red tape at the front desk, including getting my temperature checked, and having a “Visitor’s Badge” with my name and Barbara’s written across it slapped on my shirt, I waited for a nurse to escort me back into the Emergency Room. Noting the packed waiting room, I was glad Barbara had come in through the back door with the EMT’s. Being guided into one of the examination rooms, I was pleased to find my friend sitting up and looking for all intents and purposes, amazingly well. The nurse informed me all her tests had come back negative and Barbara would most likely be going home in the next hour or so. Yay. Eating my banana, I gauged that to mean in “ER Lingo” an hour and a half to two hours. Looking at my phone, I could tell this would be cutting it close. Finally, they got the paperwork in place to get Barbara paroled. It is far easier, I have to say, to get into the Emergency Room, then it is to get back out again. The good news, of course, was that Barbara was just slightly dehydrated, but otherwise fine. Still in her pajamas, I tucked her in the passenger seat and drove her home. I had not been to her new place, so hadn’t realized it was remote enough to be considered in another state. Not wanting to just dump her and run, I escorted her into the house and got her settled, which left me ten minutes to make a twenty minute drive back to the museum. One thing I have learned in this educational experience called life, is there is no point in stressing over something you cannot do one single thing about. All the stressing in the world, wouldn’t make me any less late for this appointment. So, I simply drove along and let the day unfold as it was meant to, and took in the glorious view of all the wildflowers evident everywhere along my route. Life, as they say, was good.
Thankfully, my GPS dropped me nearly at the doorstep of my destination. I located a parking spot right up front, and followed the signs leading upstairs to the museum entrance, where my guide, Paul, was waiting for me. Introducing myself, I explained the reason for my late arrival. Assuring me all was fine, I filled out the volunteer paperwork and we embarked on our tour. The convent has some notoriety, he explained, being the oldest standing convent in California. Many of the older convents had either burned down or been destroyed during the 1906 earthquake. The interior of the large building was most impressive. Vintage wall paper covered most of the walls, accented by dark wood trim decorated with detailed scrolling. The building was originally erected in 1856. In the beginning it provided a safe haven for orphans in the area, taken in and cared for by the cloister of nuns housed there. Along with the orphans, the school on the premises provided a place for wealthy young ladies to come to learn the proper social graces, and for local children to attend school on a tuition basis. A schoolroom, set up in one of the massive rooms, provided me a glimpse of what it might of looked like in the eighteenth century. There is something fascinating to me about museums. That eerie feeling of stepping for a moment back into history to capture a snapshot of life the way it was for those inhabiting the world during that time period.
One room, perhaps my favorite, was a fully recreated bedroom. Everything in the room from furnishings to chamber pots was authentically represented. There was no hot and cold running water back in the 1800’s or electricity, and certainly no indoor plumbing. On the sideboard stood a large china water pitcher sitting in a matching basin. Paul explained residents of the house would pump water from the well into the pitcher to do their daily ablutions. A pot on the floor next to the sideboard was for spitting in after rinsing your mouth out. Another pot, a chamber pot, sat on the floor next to the bed. The obvious use for that, I’m assuming you are aware. So many things we take for granted now, were unavailable in those days. Really, when you think of it, it wasn’t really so very long ago. I commented on the fact that the windows in the rooms ran nearly floor to ceiling in length. This is a significant height as the rooms had very high ceilings. He explained this was to allow ventilation and air circulation, as there were no air conditioners or electric fans, and also to provide light into what would otherwise be very dark rooms. At that point I actually felt the house around me, and asked if there were ghosts afoot. No, came the quick answer, but somehow I feel old houses always harbor a few souls still longing for a place to hang their hats.

The vintage clothing I found particularly fascinating. The waists in the women’s dresses were impossibly small. I was reading men at the time greatly admired female companions with miniscule waists. Good Lord. One raisin and they would have exceeded their clothing’s capacity. I don’t know anyone who would fit into those garments today. Whale bone corsets were used to cinch women into these barbaric clothes. Even when pregnant they were pulled and tugged into place, although more cinched above the waist so as not to harm the fetus. Though I found the dresses quite lovely, and many of the fabrics lush and gorgeous, they look like torture devices to me. Can you imagine all those skirts, underskirts, and underwear on a hot day? Whew. I hope deodorant had been invented by then.
My great grandmother would have gone to school during that time. I wish she had kept a journal or documented her experience in some way. I am named after her. From what I understand she was a bit of a character who enjoyed doing cartwheels in the parlor or dancing under the moon. Seems like a full circle situation to me, although my cartwheel skills are definitely questionable, I do love a full moon. Imagine how things have changed since she was growing up? Cannot imagine her amazement if dropped into our world at this particular time in history. The computer alone, and cell phones, my oh my.
Even during my time on the planet so many things have evolved significantly. Richard was saying the other day that when he bought his first car A/C and radios were optional, things we now take for granted when driving a car off the lot. In the 1980’s only 72% of cars were equipped with A/C. Cars were not equipped with much in the early 1950’s, including automatic windows or power steering and power brakes. They used to come with wind wings to allow better ventilation. The younger of you are sitting there going “wind what”? They were small windows built into the larger car windows you could push outward to allow you to direct more air in from outside. As I remember, most of the cars when I was a kid also came with manual transmissions. I still would prefer to drive a stick shift, but we’ve gotten lazy over the years, so the automatics that came next have prevailed.
My car is beginning to show some signs of wear. I know the feeling. There are no seat warmers or navigation devices on my dashboard display, which my son believes to be almost archaic. It is a bit of a no frills vehicle but it has served me well since 2009 and I will continue to allow it to do so until it decides it cannot go on. Should a situation come up where I need to shop for a new car, or at least a new car to me, I will defer to Richard when choosing one. He is one of those men who wiled away his teenage years scrubbing grease from beneath his fingernails after spending the weekend with his head under the hood of whatever hot rod he was driving at the moment. A die hard car enthusiast, he finds Nascar endlessly fascinating. Here we part ways. Sitting watching one lap after another is guaranteed to find my eyelids closing. For me, it seems the whole point of these high speed car races is that spectators are basically sitting in the stands or at home in their recliners waiting for someone to crash. We really are barbaric in ways. He tells me he finds America’s Funniest Home Videos barbaric. Really? I laugh and giggle through the whole thing. I explained they are not going to air a video in which someone got seriously hurt, but I think most humans get a kick out of animals doing silly things or humans, well, simply being human. Perhaps it’s because about 90% of the really idiotic things in these videos have men as the participants? One wonders.
Very odd weather of late. Nineties predicted by the end of the day today, and then on Monday it’s supposed to be in low 60’s. I spent the week transferring my winter clothes to bins and putting them in my storage unit, and arranging my spring/summer clothes in my closet. It’s supposed to snow in the mountains. I may have to walk around in my electric blanket like a Tesla looking for a place to plug in. They showed pictures of Yosemite on the news this morning. The waterfalls are magnificent this year with the amount of snow nature has provided the Sierra Nevadas beginning to melt as warmer weather moves in. I would love to hop in the car and go down there, but there is too much going on right now to allow me to just take off. Sigh. I have been visiting Yosemite since I was a kid. The scenery is fabulous no matter the time of year. I do try to avoid mid summer though, because you can’t hear the waterfalls for the tourists talking and cameras clicking.
Wherever you are enjoy your weekend. Every day opens up with nothing written on it, write something memorable if you get the chance.