Cookies and Football

          During last week's playoff game, my grandson called his friend, Kevin, to come over and watch the Seahawks play the 49er's.  The conversation went like this:

Jason:  "Hey, ya wanna watch the game over here?"
Kevin:  "Maybe later.  I'm gonna do some stuff and take a shower first."
Jason:  "My mom's making cookies."
Kevin: "I'll be right there."

          Deja vu.  When my kids were young--especially in high school--they requested extra homemade cookies in their lunches because they needed to share with their friends.  This was not a ploy to gain popularity.  They all had adequate personalities to garner multiple friends.  It was just that those friends were hard to say "no' to. 

          I had grown to love having little personal identity apart from being somebody's mom when I was introduced or referred to.  I was genuinely proud to be their mom--in fact nothing else gave me as much fulfillment and pride.  But this was a new era--the era of the cookie-identity.  But it didn't so much define me as it did their friends.  They would introduce me to their friends like this:  "Mom. this is Bill.  He likes your walnut shortbread."  Or, "Mom. this is Susan.  Your chocolate chip cookies are her favorite."

          I don't want to brag, but it's my old recipe that had Kevin changing his priorities.

ADJUSTING

          We've been official San Diego residents for almost 3 months now.  We have our driver's licenses; we are registered to vote and we've done a change of address with all our subscriptions and creditors.  We have new bank accounts and new routines.  It's all good.  We know we made the right decision, but inevitably we miss "home."
          It takes a while for a new city to feel like home.  The things that I loved about where I came from just pop into my mind with a sweet sadness that tempts me to wonder if we made the right decision.  Top of the list, of course, are the people we left behind.  I can pick up the phone, but it's not like leaning in over a cup of coffee at Starbucks, confiding leisurely and intimately nose to nose.
          But it's time to focus on the things I love about my new city and new friends.  They are enough to ease the angst.  Even better is anticipating all the things I are going to grow to love that haven't even appeared or taken shape yet.
          Today it hit me that I can have suede shoes.  I love suede shoes, but they were an expensive luxury in Seattle.  The chances of getting caught in the rain or stepping in a puddle were constant--a sure death notice for suede shoes.  Since I've been in San Diego, I've purchased THREE pair of suede shoes!   I now own a black pair, a brown pair and the piece de resistance is a pair of Charger-blue open-toed wedges.
          I wore them for what turned out to be the Charger's last game in the playoffs.  My grandsons commented that I missed the whole effect because I should've had my toenails painted yellow--next year....
          In the meantime, my all-time favorite team is still a contender for the Superbowl and they play on this Sunday.  I've put away my Charger-blue suede  wedges (supremely cute, though they be) and this Sunday it will be all Seahawk blue and green.  And if it had happened that the Chargers had played the Seahawks?  It's Hawks all the way, baby!  Go hawks!!!
          I'm adjusting, but some things just take time!