55

I'm 55!

I'm 55!

I'M 55!

I'm gonna keep saying it until I believe it. 

I'm 55!

How? How did I get to be 55? (That's a rhetorical question. I know how).

Birthday's rarely bother me. It's a number, not a mind set. And up to 55 I've been doing ok with that thought. But 55 is a number to me. A big number. 

When I was younger, 55 was when people retired. It's when they started getting ready to spend their hard earned cash doing the fun things in life. AARP called and sent you a card. It was your "next part" of your life. 

That's not true these days. It may not be true for me ever. 

And that's another thing, when I think about my life, as I do too often, I like to think that I've done pretty well. I've lived a good life and plan on continuing to live said good life. 

I have had steady jobs. Each one teaching me what I like, or dislike, about working, the people I work with and managers. I believe I'm at the pinnacle of my career and you know what, I'm ok with that in a way I never thought I would be. The ambition is no longer to climb the ladder, but to continue being consistent in my work life. Learn, grown and just be. That's my attituded now. 

I have see the world. Oh boy have I. I've been to places I once only imagined I'd visit. I was never sure after leaving TASIS if I would ever see Europe again. Now I'm seen the majority of Europe and still have more to see. I'm so very thankful for being about to travel and see the world, learn about history, learn about different cultures and experience things that are magical. 

I have friends who love me and who I love in return. In you're 20's you have a gaggle of friends and you believe they are family. Some of those friends stay with you as your grow, but are no longer family. Some of those friends are by your side constantly and stay in your life well into your 50's. Those friends stay as family and welcome the "Wraspir" last name. They keep you level, they call you on your BS, they often give you crap about anything, they love you, they hug you, they eat your food, they listen, they will be there for you. I'm very grateful for those friends. They know who they are and if they don't, then they aren't those friends. 

In 1998 when my Aunt Jean took me to buy my first scrapbook stuff, I never would have guessed that that 30 year old would be the scrapbooking queen she is today. My craft has really come a long way. I love scrapbooking and love even more that it is what settles my mind. The creativity is something I crave and what better way than to create beautiful pages. I've learned a lot. I've taken a ton of courses and have made more pages than I can even count. I shudder to think about the amount of money spent in this hobby, but it is what it is. 

And that's another thing at 55 that I love. I no longer care about what people think about me. I used to really care and used to make sure I was almost perfect so that I could get approval. Now, I approve myself. Social media has made it difficult for people today to be ok with who they are (by "people" I really mean the younger generation) and for me, I'm so very glad that I've grown past that. I'm comfortable in my own body - even if that body is larger than I want it to be. 

And that's another thing at 55, losing any pounds takes significant effort. Sheesh. It's like my 55 year old body loves all those fat cells individually and do not want to let them go. 

And that's another thing at 55, my eyes are having a harder time seeing anything. I have glasses I need to wear when I'm reading or on the computer or reading a menu. I used to marvel at my grandparents wearing their "readers" around their necks dangling from a chain. I'd wonder why they just don't get glasses. Now I get it. I don't need full glasses. I just need ones to make things closer up easier to read. 

So another year has come and gone. I've been on this little blue marble for 55 years. Fifty-five! 5 - 5. I'm not sure how that happened. But at 55 I know I can reflect on the past and look forward to a future that is still bright, a little scary, but bright. 

Top 10 Favorite Books of 2023

Here we are at the end of 2023! It's been quite a year of reading for me. 

I've read 45 books (changed my goal from 50 to 45). Only one I really struggled to get through and think I skipped most of it ( West With the Night by Beryl Markham).

Of the other 44 there were really obvious standouts.

 

All these books I loved and some I REALLY loved. If a story stays with me, I know it was told well, and it had the right amount of plot to keep me interested enough to invest part of my brain to remember. Here are my thoughts on each - in no specific order of like. 

The Storyteller of Casablanca

By Fiona Valpy

This is another WWII book told from a bit of a different area. The family escapes to Casablanca - which apparently a lot of Europeans did. I laughed and I cried my way through this book. It's beautifully written with the present and the past. 

The author bounces you between two characters in two different time periods. What I liked about it is that I never felt lost. I felt always connected to both characters and didn't feel confused. 

Midnight at the Blackbird Café

By Heather Webber

This book came recommended to me from my friend Heather. Her recommendations have never let me down before, and this one was no different. 

Another magical book. The main character has to come back to bury her grandmother and decides to stay and keep her grandmother's cafe opened. The story is told in a way that makes you want to go to Wicklow and eat some of the pie sold there. Beautifully told with a solid plot and characters. 

The Lightkeeper's Daughter

By Jean E. Pendziwol

This book kept me engaged the entire time. It's a great story told in way that slowly unfolds. It has a mystery element to it and I found myself without a clue how it was going to end. 

The House in the Cerulean Sea

By T.J. Klune

You have to have an opened mind and like "fantasy" books to like this one. The children are creatures and if that's not your cup of tea, then this book you may not enjoy. 

Thankfully, for me, this is my cup of tea and I loved Loved LOVED this book. It's such a wonderful story and message about being ok with stepping out of your comfort zone. The characters are all loveable and you want nothing more than to know more about them. 

The sequel to this book is coming in 2024.

The Book of Lost Names

By Kristin Harmel

If I had to pick a top 3, this would be in it. Another Heather recommendation and another book I fell in love with . 

A woman in WWII starts working for an organization that transports Jewish children out of France and safely into another country. She starts writing down their names so that perhaps they can be reunited with their families after the war. 

I love WWII stories and this one was so heartwarming under horrible circumstances. The characters were all well defined and the story reveals itself slowly and in a very thought out way. 

I closed this book and just sat thinking about the bravery, the courage, the foresight that these characters had. 

None of this Is True

By Lisa Jewell

Whoa. Lisa Jewell does it again. She can tell an intriguing story that keeps you hooked and causes you to stay up way too late to read "just one more chapter". 

I had no idea where this book was going and I really wasn't sure how it would end. It gripped me from the first chapter and kept me hooked throughout. You cannot go wrong with a Lisa Jewell novel. 

Finding Heather

By Alison Ragsdale

This was an accidental read for me. Amazon served it up as a "If you liked that, you'll like this" and it was free so I decided why not?  And I'm glad I did. 

It's a lovely story about finding yourself after tragedy. Making hard decisions for yourself in order to move you forward. I found I fell in love with all the characters in this book and had that warm, loving feeling after I read it. It starts sad, but made me smile in the end. 

Demon Copperhead

By Barbara Kingsolver

This Pulitzer Prize winning novel really dug into my soul. It's a story about addiction in a very poor part of our country. The main character swears he won't become an addict like his mother, then due to an injury he does. I found myself yelling at him telling him to NOT take that pill from the doctor. 

I found I got mad at several characters. I was leery of several characters. And I fell in love with some characters. 

This book stuck with me. It was a book club read for November, and I still find myself thinking about the characters and wondering how they are today. By the way, it's fiction. 

Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing

By Matthew Perry

This was my pick for January 2024 book club. I choose it after Matthew Perry passed. I had bought this book when it was first released and there it sat on my TBR list. Then he tragically died. It felt like the right thing to do. I wanted to hear his story. 

I know reading bios that the "stories" are all as true as the author want you to believe. But man did he struggle. Reading this on the heels of Demon Copperhead made me feel like I was an addict. I felt that unless you've been in those addictive shoes, you couldn't possible understand. I have a stronger understanding of the struggle, but I can't even imagine. 

His candid stories of his addiction and how he struggled really hit home for me. Showing that vulnerability for him must have been hard. He was my favorite "Friend" and I felt bad for the life he lived as an addict. 

Are You There God It's Me Margaret

By Judy Blume

If you're a girl and a preteen in the late 70s, you probably remember reading this book when it came out. It was all the rage amongst my girlfriends. One read it and swore it had all the answers about getting your period. Of course it didn't, but what did we know? They rereleased this book and did a movie last year and I wanted to read it as an adult. 

It hits different as an adult. Not the greatest story, but it was heartwarming and really took me back to my childhood. That's why it's on my list this year as a favorite. It's a classic to me.

How'd You Get Your Name?

Well, here we are, mid-December. Christmas is just 10 days away. How'd that happen? 

I've been keeping myself busy doing December Daily scrapping. Basically 31 photos with themes you come up with. Then you scrap those pages and tell the story. I've got 6 more pages left to do for December. 

I've been spending a lot of time thinking about my life and the stories I want to leave behind. I had a book I had started answering the questions. Most didn't really apply to my life later in life, so I stopped once it had an entire section on "your married life". Rather presumptuous I think. 

Every day I wish I could ask mom one more question about her life. I've been looking through old photos and have no idea on why or what the story is behind them. 

My grandma Spaid once told me that as you age you think more and more about the life you lived. You review it and think about what could have been, what has been, and what's still to come. She wasn't wrong. And that's why I wanted to document some of my own stories. 

A friend gave me this card set. She saw it on Instagram and thought of me immediately. She thought about how much fun I'd have sharing my stories (whether anyone reads them or not). 

And so today I start with question one: How'd you get your name?

This is another one of those times I'd like to ask my mother to confirm what I think she told me. 

First, I was supposed to be a Jonathon. Her and my dad were sure I was a boy and they had not decided on a girl name. Mom wanted to name me Christina Noel because of how close my birthday was to be to Christmas. Dad said no. 

Dad wasn't home when mom went into labor. One time she said she took a cab, the other she said a friend drove her to the hospital. I'm inclined to think a friend took her. 

Anyhow, when I came out as a girl, they didn't have any names. Mom had heard the song "Jennifer" by Bobby Sherman and had the song in her head, so Jennifer it was. 

My middle name is Joy. And apparently there was a good family friend who lived across the street from my grandparents Miller whose name was Joy.

UPDATE: My Aunt Renee corrected me on the name Joy. I had it wrong. Per Aunt Rene: 

"Joy" came from our cousin Joy. Joy was given to you because you guys lived in Texas where our cousin Joy and Aunt and Uncle lived. Joy is your second cousin." 

I was never a Jenny. Ugh. Blech. Gross. Don/Dad hated Jenny and so it wasn't a nickname ever given to me. I was always Jennifer or JJ. 

Later in life, for a short period, I roomed with several Jennifer's in one room. One was already a Jenny. The other was a Jen with one "n", so I opted for Jenn with two "n's". I prefer Jenn over Jennifer. Jennifer makes me feel like I'm in trouble. 

Dad (Al) later called me J. So J became a shortened name for me. Really only he and some Wraspir relatives call me J. 

Other names I've had in my life:

Fennifer Misery

Wroscoe

TOJ (The Other Jenn)

My name has been spelled with one n (Jenifer) many times. I can't even count how many. It's also been spelled Jenipher from a Third Country National in Saudi. That spelling made me smile.

I was once Jennifer Joy Miller. Then when mom and dad got married, I took the Wraspir last name when Dad adopted me. Then I was Jennifer Joy Wraspir. And that's what it shall be for the rest of my life. 

Happy Thanksgiving!

That's a wrap. Another Thanksgiving is over and done. Phew. I always forget how much work it is. I tell myself it's not that much and yet I'm always exhausted when it's done. 

As is tradition, the festivities started with clam dip. It's tradition. Mine never tastes as good as Mom's did, but I still make it every year. 

Next the bird goes in. I cook mine in a bag every year and I'm so glad I do. It turns out perfect every time. Juicy and flavorful. This year I stuffed it with onions, carrots and celery. I have not idea if it makes it better or not, but I can say, this bird was delicious. 

The rest of the meal was rounded out with carbs galore: dressing; honey skillet corn, and mashed potatoes and gravy. Oh and a roll, because why not? 

I didn't make broccoli casserole this year and I gotta say, I missed it. The meal didn't feel quite right without that darn casserole. But the corn is so delicious. I made it for the hunting wives dinner and I thought it would make a nice side for turkey too. Maybe next year I'll make both. 

The usual crowd was here; Janet, Ashely, Claudia and her mom Gisela.

Now the rest of the weekend will be full of taking down fall and putting up Christmas. Saturday we're going to the Holly Jolly bizarre in Snohomish. It's become tradition. 

So now that all the specifics are done, let me just say, this year I'm very thankful for all I have and for all the people around me. I have a pretty darn good life and fantastic people in it. I'm thankful for all of it.

Missing Stories

Not long ago I stumbled onto a hard drive that belonged to mom. On it I found folders and folders of photos. Amongst those folders were so many of my baby pictures I've never seen. 

Being the second child, I have long since come to grips with having fewer baby photos than my older sister. I get it. The first on is exciting. The second is - well - the second. And, to be fair, we didn't take photos in the late 1960s like we do today. Far from it. 

So having found these photos I knew immediately I wanted to scrapbook them. I wanted to begin at the beginning and work my way through the 70's and 80's of my life. 

It has been so much fun looking at these photos. There's only one problem. I have no stories to go with them. And the main story telling, Mom, isn't with me to tell me. 

I'll admit this thought made me sad. I have so many questions about some of the photos I've found. Like this one? Why? What is the story with the McDonald's hat? I know it's 1969 but I haven't a clue why my sister and I are wearing these hats. 

I've scrapped a handful of the photos. And without having stories it makes it very hard to journal on them. I could say on every page, "I don't know the story here but..." 

And that got me thinking about making up my own stories. I could, technically, rewrite my whole childhood and no one would know. That poses an interesting question about rewriting your history and whether it's the right thing to do. Truth be told, I'm not creative of a storyteller so doubt I'd come up with anything overly interesting. 

I decided today that without the stories, that's going to have to be ok. Scrapping the photos has to be enough. My family who will look at these pages won't care that there's no story (I hope). Then once I'm gone from this world, no one will care either so having a story isn't as important as I want it to be. 

But dammit...I want the stories. I want to sit with mom and look at each photo and ask her to tell me what was going on. It hurts deeply that I can't. It will be my one big regret in my life that I didn't ask more questions about her stories and mine. 

Some stories I know, or do I? I see photos like this one of me sitting on a desk at my grandparents house. I have fond memories of playing on that desk. I have not so fond memories of having "time outs" on that desk too. I wonder, frequently, if the memories I have are real, or are the one's I've created BECAUSE of this photo? I'll never know for sure. 

So if you're reading this, and your mom and dad are still her, sit with them and get the stories. Take the time to ask questions about the stories of your childhood and theirs. Write those stories down. Because one day, you won't have them there to ask. 

Happy Halloween!

Yes, it's here Halloween. I have the bowl of candy out on the porch with a note that says, "Help yourself." I don't care if someone takes the entire bowl of candy or just one piece. I just don't want them to ring the doorbell - drives the cats crazy. 

As Halloween got closer I started looking through photos of past costumes. Here's what I know for a fact, we hardly took Halloween photos. And I don't have too many memories of my costumes growing up. 

I was able to find this gem from 1970. Frightening for sure. Those plastic face masks were horrible. You couldn't breath and the elastic chord would dig into my noggin behind my ear. 

Most of our Halloween's we had to wear snow suits under our costumes. The years in North Dakota and Great Falls. I remember it being cold. 

In 1978 I had this little green dress with suspenders. It reminded me of Raggedy Anne. And so...

I upped my game a little too with this one. I wore roller skates when we went trick or treating. That was a mistake. Carrying around Raggedy Andy with me was also a mistake. It got hard to juggle the doll and a pillow case of candy. 

I have zero recollection of who I went out with. We were relatively new to the area and I don't recall if I had any friends by Halloween. I don't remember mom or any chaperone being with us either. It was in Lancaster California so there wasn't a need for a coat. Plus all the sugar we were consuming kept us warm. 

Back then, we weren't "allowed" to eat any candy until we got home and Mom sorted through it looking for needle marks or open candy. We weren't allowed to keep anything homemade either. It wasn't until years later I realized it was just Mom scoping out the goods to pick what pieces she wanted to steal from us later. 

I do remember mom being really strict about how much candy a day we could have. Both bags of candy stayed on top of the refrigerator and every night after dinner we could pick two pieces. 

The good stuff went fast; Reese's, M&Ms, tootie rolls, snickers, etc. Then eventually all that was left was licorice, lolly pops and smarties. Blech. 

So whether you dressed up today, or are taking little ghost and gobblins out and about, have a sweet, sugar induced Halloween.

Day 10 - Algarve - Azeitao - Lisbon

Today we leave the Algarve and head back to Lisbon. I'm ready to be home. I think I've hit the end of my social capabilities. I'm tired. I'm sick and I'm ready to be home in my own bed. Don't get me wrong though. I have enjoyed Portugal and this trip thoroughly. There just comes a time when I'm ready to be done with all the traveling. 

On our way to Lisbon today we stopped at a tile facility. It's a small, family owned tile factory. The tour guide walked us through the process. It's interesting how much goes into a single tile. Each one made by hand, hand painted and fired. This little factory puts out a mere 25,000 tiles a year. That may sound like a lot, but when you think about an actual manufacturing facility not doing it by hand can put that amount out in a day or two. 

This is the main workshop where the magic begins. The clay they get from the Duoro River. It comes in sacks and they pull enough out to make a single tile. 

The roll the tile out to a certain width and then cut it to be the right size. The cut it a bit larger because it'll shrink in the heating process. 

This is one of several kilns they have. The tiles go in for something like 19 hours. I think it goes in after it's painted. 

I picked myself up a two tiles from this little shop. I loved this W tile and all the colors in it. The other tile I got is a wine bottle coaster.

On the way to Lisbon we stopped in Setubal for a lunch break. Hassan walked us to this market and said there were places to eat inside. 

We walked through the market a little and found this little restaurant in the back. Janet and I split a hamburger and fries. It was an odd burger for me. It had ham, cheese, burger (of course) lettuce, tomato and an egg. I quickly handed Janet the egg from the burger. No thanks. 

Arriving in Lisbon, we had a couple of hours before the Farewell dinner. I needed a nap in the worst way. I rested and just hung out while we waited for the dinner. 

Our Farewell dinner was in a restaurant in the hotel on the top floor. It offered some amazing views of Lisbon. 

The Farewell dinners are always a little bittersweet for me. On the one hand I'm ready to be home. On the other I've appreciated all the things we've seen and done. We've made some great friends on this trip and have enjoyed being around most of the people. 

This gentleman was among our favorites. His name is Ken and he was on this trip with his sister and brother in law, who also turned out to be a ton of fun. Australians. Ken was hilarious. He had a witty come back for everything and was constantly asking Hassan questions about things as we traveled around Portugal. They were all great fun. 

Julie was another friend we made on this trip. We hooked up with her almost immediately and spent the entire trip hanging with her. She too is Australian and was on a whirlwind trip from Ireland, England/Wales and then finally Portugal. 

Dinner was delicious! The meal started with a salad. I had a couple of salads with dinner throughout the trip and all of them were just ok. The dressing on all of them was a liquidly and flavorless. 

The wine in Portugal was delicious. This particular night it was exceptional. I needed to take a photo of the bottle just in case I can get it in the states. 

Dinner was 'teenage' beef again. They call it veal, but Hassan swears that it's not the baby cows that we call veal in the states. I chose to believe him. This meat was tender and delicious. 

Dessert, according to the menu, was to be a souffle. It came out and they lit it on fire. This isn't a souffle to me, but I'll go with it.  

It wasn't great to be honest, but then again, I'm not a dessert person. 

And so that's it. Portugal is done. We came. We saw. We ate. We learned. And we vowed to remember it forever. I'm still processing all that we did and saw. It goes so fast that I have to take some time to recount it all and really appreciate all that we saw. 

With that, our flight is mid-day tomorrow and we'll be home around 9:30pm Seattle time. I took the next day off from work as I'm sure I'll be useless. I'm bringing home this wonderful bug and can only hope it goes away quickly. 

Until next time Portugal, Chau!

Day 9 - The Algarve

Here we are! Lagos in The Algarve! It's beautiful here. The cold, and the fact we're at the end of our tour, has me a little exhausted so I'm going to lay low for the next couple of days. 

We arrived and were greeted by the craziest hotel I've ever been in. The Tivoli hotel is a combination of several properties and as such the layout is very confusing. I've never been in a hotel where you had a guide show you to your room. But thank god they did, we'd never find it otherwise. 

View from our room

We went up a flight of stairs (to 1st floor), met our guide who walked us down a hallway that has us on the 4th floor (keep in mind we didn't go up any steps). We got in an elevator to take it down to the second floor. Down another hallway, then up a half flight of stairs to our room. I said to Janet that I think we should have dropped bread crumbs to find our way back. 

We took the extra excursion to go have another "traditional" Portuguese meal. I happen to like these big group meals as it makes it very easy on us - we don't have to decide what to have. 

We thought this might be a good time to get a photo with our tour guide Hassan. He still wasn't, at all, sure about these crab hats, but he enjoyed the humor in them. He was an excellent guide and I learned a lot from him during this trip. 

Janet had the fish - I think Sea Bass and I had the pork. It was so dang tender and delicious. The Portuguese eat a lot of pork alongside their fish. 

The next day we were up early again and headed to Cape Saint Vincent. The south western most point of continental Europe. 

It wasn't nearly as windy there as I thought it would be. In fact, Hassan said it was odd that it wasn't windy. I guess we'll enjoy it and be thankful we weren't blown off the steep cliff. 

After the Cape we stopped at the Fort of Sagres. 

The fort is well positioned to have a panoramic view of the area. The cliffs are about 60 meters high and the views were amazing. 

The history of the fort has it built in the 15th century under the command of Henry the Navigator and was designed to protect the area from attacks coming from North Africa. The fort was damaged in the big earthquake of 1755 and then the resulting tidal wave (yes the wave came over the 60 meter high cliffs). 

At the top of the walls, you get to see so many beautiful views of the surrounding beaches and cliffs. 

That lighthouse is Cape Saint Vincent - which was where we were prior to stopping here at the Fort. 

We got back to Lagos and had the afternoon free. Our first stop was lunch though. We found this little restaurant and ordered ourselves a steak bifana. Likely the best bifana I had during the entire trip. Simple and delicious. 

For the afternoon, I decided to stay in the room and rest. The bug I picked up was in full swing and I thought it best to rest up. Janet took off for a walk around Lagos. 

Later that night we met our new friend Julie for a happy hour drink and then dinner. We headed back to the restaurant we visited at lunch because it was so good. 

Janet had the codfish au gratin (basically the bacalau); Julie had the octupus and I had this Portuguese steak that was amazing. Huge piece of beef surrounded by all these potatoes and a gravy that was out of this world. 

Tomorrow we head back to Lisbon for the last day our our trip. I'm ready to be home if I'm being honest. I think a combination of the cold and exhaustion has me ready to be in my own bed.