Thoughts. Feelings. Ideas. 

Are these different? Or the same? If I have a thought about something, isn't that a feeling? Or if I have a thought, isn't that an idea?

There is so much that travels in my head sometimes, thinking is all I ever get done. I will literally stop any productiveness and just think. If I don't write it down, I'm normally pretty much in the dark about what I was thinking about. HA! But when I do, it's like feelings or ideas that are in my head, right?

I've told the kids I want a little recorder to talk into. They showed me my phone will do that but I rarely remember. I rarely remember much of anything. My memory is wrecked.

My dad said his memory was also wrecked. He carried a little spiral notebook in the front pocket of his shirt. He would often grab it and scribble something only he understood into it. I have done that but then even I can't decipher what I wrote. I wonder if he struggled with that? I never thought to ask.

He also always had a regular spiral notebook that he was writing the current masterpiece in.  And then, he'd write notes. We never have found the one about baseball that Jim was gonna finish and then that I was ultimately supposed to finish when Jim passed.

But, dad always had the notebook. I usually always have a notebook as well.. And dad always had coffee as I always have coffee. 

May 23, 2021

That is where ideas flourish. It's where I start writing the newest and greatest or I may even start a blog post at the table, over a notebook and coffee.

Some of the best conversations of my life have occurred over a notebook and coffee.

That's why the blog is called A Notebook & Coffee. I know you die hard fans probably remember that from the beginning. And while I've got your attention, Thanks for hanging around. Waiting for me to get it together. Sorry it took so long.

So, I put that all in here in case any newbies didn't think to ask, "Where's a notebook & coffee come from?

May 27, 2021

But, it's not just a name. It's not just a blog. It's where I hang out with my kids. My friends. My grandkids. My life insurance guy. Yes, I have a life insurance guy.

It's where my dad hung out in the garage. It's where all my brothers friends would start in their visit to their house. They rarely made it past the "grab a beer, Sit down." to make it inside. Until they had to pee. Then they'd go inside and say hi to mom.

They hang out and listen to music or the baseball game. Dad had it mapped out on the garage floor where the acoustics were the best. He outlined his feet where he stood to mark the spot.

I think his chair sat very close to those footprints.

While Dad's memory failed him in so many ways, there were areas that were completely unaffected. His ability to remember baseball players and iconic plays they made in whatever game he was at in his mind, where he could smell the stale beer and virtually see the scoreboard, noting the inning and the score. He could remember games from his past that made an imprint so vivid I could watch it with him in my mind as he recreated it with his words.

And music. Oh, he knew music. Who. When. All of it. My daughter has that talent. She knows her music. Who. What Songs. And she's probably close to When.

I can remember Who. I'm pretty good at who, although lately I have been failing. My memory is wrecked. Little things. Big things. And even things I remember, I second guess myself, like "Did I dream that or did I really do that?"

And it's not normal forgetting, like "oh it's right there, right on the tip of my tongue." No, it's like "seriously, what the hell is a tongue. That is the weirdest word. Is that really a thing"

Okay, that might be kind of way out there but not really. It's kinda like that...I just can't remember a "for instance". Go figure.

My kids tell me stuff all the time and then they'll say, remember that? And nope, I won't have a clue. It's frightening. I just hope if I go all Alzheimer's, I'm a funny little person. I don't wanna be that mean [email protected] one that won't shut up.

I want to be the cute and funny one.

If I end up in a home, somebody better sneak in some booze!! Seriously!

And cigarettes. And medical marij--well, maybe not that. Maybe.

But oh, heck yes, on the booze and cigarettes.

Joe and I said we are gonna go to the nursing home together and raise all kinds of hell.  We can start escaping. We'll go to the bar somewhere and we'll be well known and they'll serve us and then charge whichever kid has to come find us. Oh, those will be the days.

Actually, I can't wait til I'm eighty something. 90- something. I want to be that little old lady who doesn't care that she's wrinkled. The little woman who might be a little overweight but not horrible. But she doesn't care just the same. The rock & roll listening, dancing my way through life, little woman who pretends to crochet when they are looking but chugging my flask when they're not. HA! And I'll get me a 90-something little man and we'll be the cutest couple anybody has ever seen. We won't care about anything but each other.

And we'll sneak out and go to the bar, and Joe will order a coffee and I'll take out my notebook and we'll hangout over a notebook and coffee and talk about baseball because, like Dad, Joe remembers every player and the iconic plays they made in whatever game he's thinking about in his mind; where he can smell stale beer and virtually see the scoreboard, noting the inning and the score. And I'll listen as he recreates the games from his past that made an imprint so vivid, I'll watch it with him in my mind.

Thoughts. Feelings. Ideas.

I think they're the same, when shared.

Until Next Time

Dream Big!

~Kimberly