A Real Gem
The results are in!
Many thanks to those of you who voted to help me name my home on wheels, my traveling companion, my mobile haven.
The winner is...Opal! She garnered nearly half of all of the votes and I couldn’t be more pleased. Being an October baby, opals have always had a special place in my heart. If you do a bit of research on the spiritual meaning of the opal, you’ll find phrases like “creativity, emotional healing, and personal transformation.” Not to get all “woo woo” about it, but turns out that artists and writers sometimes use opals as talismans to unlock creativity and inspiration. I find them to be a stunning example of beauty in the natural world.
So me and Opal. Opal and me. Adventures await!
I’m not sure what follows rises to the level of “adventure,” but I did two things yesterday that I haven’t done in ages.
First, I took a nap. Not the “I dozed off in my recliner” kind of nap that began happening to me occasionally after I hit 50. No, this was an “I’m going to actually lay down in my bed for a bit” kind of nap. I didn’t feel very well when Lu woke me up at the crack of dawn and after the morning routine and a bite for lunch I was sleepy. So I napped. Formally. It was glorious.
Of course, one reason I was drawn to my bed for a snooze is because my new bedroom has become a kind of passion project. It all started with a blanket a dear friend sent me quite a while ago. Brightly colored with lovely sayings about (what else?) friendship. When I was going between places, I brought the blanket to put on the bed in Opal, fully intending it to be temporary, but that’s not what happened. That blanket has become the inspiration for what I am calling my mid-life reinvention hippie room.
I moved in with light gray sheets. Before I knew it, I had ordered a hot pink set. I didn’t stop there. Old navy and grey pillow shams were swapped for deep teal and bright orange. Then the pièce de résistance: a pillow cover I found on Etsy that called to me. I relate to it because it is colorful, involves sheep (speaks to the knitter in me) and it is a bit ridiculous. Behold!
I’m not sure I’m done yet. I have a gold chain wall-hanging showing the phases of the moon that needs a place and I’m not going to rule out hanging beads. I want what I want.
The second thing I did yesterday that I haven’t done in a very long time is I walked over to the snack shack here on the grounds and bought two scoops of ice cream. Velvet’s* Moose Tracks (they were out of my favorite, Buckeye Classic).
Back inside Opal, I sat and enjoyed every spoonful of that ice cream and I thought of my mom. She loved her ice cream and, unlike me who only indulges on hot days, she would eat it summer, fall, winter, spring - didn’t matter to her. Toward the end, it’s one of the few things she would still eat. Cheers, Mom. I miss you.
XX
*I’ve had the virtues of Blue Bell ice cream extolled to me by my dear Southern friends for years, claiming it’s the best. I hear you. I love you. And I disagree. I’m a Velvet girl, through and through. We can still be friends. ❤️
Several things. I love you but challenge accuracy of your taste buds in the Blue Belk vs. Velvet comparison. Even though I am a native Buckeye and only experienced Blue Bell as a transplant, I maintain Blue Bell is best.
Regarding sheep— daughter Karen introduced us to a great Movie starring Hugh Blackman and talking sheep. Hugh is a sheep herder in Australia who reads murder mysteries to his sheep every night. When he’s found dead they give clues to human detectives to help them solve the case. Clever. Funny. Entertaining. Sorry but this old brain isn’t coming g up with title.