Donna O'Klock, Author at 1010 Park Place

— Archives —

— Life —

Image by Loren Javier via Flickr
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Isn’t it funny how one thing leads to another, and the next thing you know, you’re off down the rabbit hole? I heard a great song on my sweetie’s country station the other day, “Your Mama’s Broken Heart” by Miranda Lambert. It’s about going a bit crazy over a break-up, and the refrain made me laugh because her mama’s advice was the same advice my mother always gave me.

A lot of us probably had the same mother, back then, when the biggest concern was “saving face.”

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— Essentials —

IMAGE BY DANIEL ZEMANS, FLICKER
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If only Deviled Eggs came from the Easter Bunny… Since they don’t, and the crucial ingredient is a Perfect Egg,* I’m sharing the recipe for an egg that peels easily, and has a tender, delicate white with a moist golden yolk.

NOTE: *Perfect as compared to one where the yolk is greenish and as resilient as a Superball.

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— Essentials —

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Hi diddly dee, an actors life for me. A high silk hat and a silver cane. A watch of gold with a diamond chain.” – Pinocchio

As much as I strive to maintain a sense of style, a high silk hat would be a bit much here, where baseball caps and floppy hiking hats are de rigueur. Continue Reading

— Essentials —

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I may be many things, but one thing I know for certain… I am not wasteful. We’ve loved our Keurig machine for years now. We love the ease and convenience it provides to make exactly the coffee of your choice, in the size you want, exactly when you want it. I especially love the way it stays-put as we travel, its little rubber feet, clinging to it’s pride-of-place on the RV counter as we jaunt around the country. But trouble’s been brewing for a while now. Since we’ve been on the road, managing our coffee pod subscription delivery has become a challenge.

We’ve missed carefully planned deliveries, leaving us rationing pods like a couple of addicts. And then there’s the greater issue of the pods themselves. Wasteful, not recyclable.

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— Life —

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For the first time in months I’m warm without triple-layers, mittens, and shearling boots. I’m barefoot. My legs are freshly shaved. I’ve met our zany neighbors… I’m one happy camper!

We are in Bisbee, Arizona, a place we knew nothing about two weeks ago. The drive here from Santa Fe led us south to the U.S./Mexico border, through miles of beautiful desert, an oasis in the San Bernardino Valley and back up into the mountains. Continue Reading

— Relationships —

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For almost 35 years as Christmas approached, I worked my derrière off as I listened to clients stress out and complain about the holiday season: In-laws they didn’t like yet had to host; parents or their new spouses they didn’t like; kids that were challenging; presents they were obliged to buy; not enough time or money and no idea what to get anyone on their long list.

After six weeks of listening to this, I was Grinched out and in a “Merry Effin Christmas” mood, myself.

Now that I’ve retired, the last two years have been completely different. My shopping is simple. I buy something edible and Texas-authentic for each of my sisters. I give my son one gift I know he’ll love, and my partner and I plan a special trip – this year to Mexico. We spend our time with people we love, doing what we love, and this year it was all packed into a whirlwind 72 hours!

We began our holiday weekend by driving to San Antonio for lunch with a very dear friend. We took her to one of our favorite restaurants on the outskirts of the city where we ate, drank delicious Dirty Martinis, and talked non-stop for a fun-filled, three-hour lunch! Although it was the first time she and my partner had met, it was as if they were instantly old friends!

The next morning was Christmas Eve, and my sweetie’s daughter came to our motorhome for brunch before leaving to hike and camp in Big Bend. That evening we had dinner with his son’s family, where everyone ate gluten-free lasagna… just for me. It was delicious!

We also attended the annual pot-luck Christmas Party our friends have hosted for the past 10 years. A decade of fun, food, and frivolity! My son met us there, and since his Dad was in town, he was invited to join us, too. Having just lost one of our group to cancer, I noticed at this year’s bash everyone has begun saying, “I love you,” more earnestly, looking into each other’s eyes. And there were a lot more bear-hugs as everyone parted company.

Maybe age gives us wisdom and perspective after all, because loving one another is ultimately what the season is about.

XO, Donna

 

— Life —

ON BENDED KNEE I BEG YOU TO RETURN THIS. I LOST EIGHT OTHERS ALREADY AND IF I LOSE THIS I'LL JUST DROP DEAD! MARLON BRANDO
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There are four people on our phone plan, including my grown son. Last week I called him to let him know we were getting ready to change carriers so we could have better wireless service as we travel.

As it turns out, it takes just as long to accomplish this, as to buy a new car.

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— Life —

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I ordered a bottle of hand lotion from Amazon but forgot all about it until it arrived. That’s so unlike me since I view their deliveries as the equivalent of Christmas morning, all-year-long. I unwrapped it and studying the label, wondered why I ordered it… but as soon as I pumped some onto my hands, the scent brought it all back to me.

I used it in the elegant restroom at The Peabody Hotel in Memphis. We’d experienced lots of cold, dry weather and my hands were paying the price. Sitting beside the basket of plush hand towels stood a bottle of Molton Brown hand lotion. I applied some and absolutely swooned.

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— Style —

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This trip to Nashville was amazing in more ways than I could have imagined. A visit to the store, Two Old Hippies, was a revelation. Their elegant, super-groovy, rock ‘n’roll chic was the style I wanted to achieve for my life-on-the-road. Continue Reading

— Life —

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Our RV lifestyle has enabled us to see some wonderful parts of our great country. Recently we decided to drive up the Natchez Trace, an historic forest trail that goes from Natchez, Mississippi, to Nashville, Tennessee. Our first stop was Natchez where we stayed on the banks of the Mississippi River. We watched huge barges, pushed by tugboats, that carry goods from port-to-port. And like they’ve done for more than a hundred years, they leave a muddy wake behind them.

I was born in St. Louis, Missouri, on the Mississippi River. Mississippi was my first “big” spelling word, as I imagine it was–and still is–for many children. Continue Reading