ONE WIDOW'S CHOICE

          Lately, I’ve been thinking about widows, especially my own mother. When daddy died, she kept breathing for another 20 years, but basically, she believed and acted as though her life was over. Yes, her life changed dramatically, but I don’t believe she ever gave herself credit for all she accomplished at the beginning of those 20 years.

          Mom never learned to drive a car. Dad insisted she take lessons before he died. She absolutely hated it. John and I helped her find a car she was comfortable with although I don’t remember if it was before or after daddy’s death. So, her first major milestone was getting a driver’s license and being able to get about on her very own. Still, she hated the fact she HAD to drive and did so as little as possible. She didn’t look at it as a major accomplishment for someone 57 years of age. It was, but she couldn’t or wouldn't see that.

          Of course, daddy hadn’t planned on dying at the age of 55. He hadn’t made any particular arrangements for mom on the off chance he would die. No life insurance, no big savings account, and not much in the way of retirement. Mom was too young to get his social security, so she had to get some training and get a job.

          Now, my mom worked outside the home from the time I was about eight until just before John and I got married. She was an anomaly because moms didn’t work outside the home in the late 50s and early 60s. Daddy changed jobs and they had to move away from Seattle. With only one kid left at home, mom didn’t need to work to help with the finances. As a result, she and daddy became co-dependent. Living in a new town, they had/made few friends. They relied on each other and were quite happy doing so. It would have been wonderful if they’d been able to continue that way until their 90s.

          Mom went back to school. Her graduation was held on the evening of the day Thor was born. I insisted John and AJ go to her graduation. I wanted her to feel proud of her accomplishment. I wanted her to be the self-reliant, confident woman she’d been when I was growing up. Instead, it was just one more mountain she’d had to climb because daddy died.

          A job was waiting for her as a key punch operator following graduation. She rode the bus from Lynnwood to downtown Seattle and back each day. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy commute. I know for a fact she hated it even though she was very good at her job and received glowing reports. Her career lasted for about four years, just long enough for her to qualify for daddy’s Social Security.

          For the next 12 years, mom lived alone. It was difficult to get her to attend family events, even if we were willing to pick her up and take her back home. She always had an excuse, usually some physical ailment, which wouldn’t allow her to leave her house. Then, out of the blue, she decided to move to eastern Washington with my brother. According to him, mom told him my sister and I pretty much ignored her. I still get a little angry when I think about that accusation.

          Then, when mom was dying, she was so happy because she’d be with daddy again. When I think of all the time, energy, and wonderful experiences she could have had during the 20 years after daddy’s death, it makes me so sad. It was a horrible waste. Her grandchildren could have benefited far more from her presence than her absence. She could have benefited from a more positive life if she’d made the choice to continue “living” instead of just “waiting.”

          I loved my mother dearly, but she was the perfect example of what I do not wish to be as a widow. If I receive an invitation, I want to accept it. If my kids or grandkids are celebrating something wonderful (or even not wonderful), I want to be there. I want them to know me. I want to get up each morning with the idea I’m going to have a splendid day, that there’s going to be at least one special occurrence before it’s bedtime again. Realistically, I know that won’t/cannot happen 365 days a year, but it’s a great goal.

          Someday, I’ll probably join John and my parents, but until then, I’m going to do way more living than waiting. If you’re a widow and you’re reading this, I hope you too are living your life rather than waiting for something else.

SPICY STUFFED PEPPERS

         My oh my, aren’t they pretty?  I made these Spicy Stuffed Peppers today (Wednesday) and had a friend over for dinner. I’ll come back to this at the end and let you know if they were yummy or if we had to go out to dinner…certainly hope not because I’m already in my comfy clothes, plus I’m going to pour myself a bit of gin here in a few.

          Never in all my 74 years have I made stuffed peppers. I think I’ve mentioned that John was allergic to them and just the odor of a bell pepper would make him gag. So, it didn’t matter what the recipe was, if it called for a bell pepper, I always had to leave it out. I liked them and whenever my daughter-in-law brought a veggie tray, she always included peppers because all the rest of us really like them. Of course, raw peppers are a bit different than cooked I guess.

          At one time I had a friend who made stuffed green peppers. She used rice, hamburger and lots of cheese. She always saved me one, and I ate it on the sly and brushed my teeth and mouth really well in case John wanted kisses later. Our friendship went by the wayside a couple of decades ago and I haven’t had one since.

          This recipe calls for spicy pork sausage, orzo, diced tomatoes and lots of cheese. I spent the morning making them and will soon pop three or four into the oven so my friend and I can have them with a salad for dinner. I seriously hope they are going to be yummy. Initially I was only going to make two, but another friend encouraged me to make the entire recipe…they freeze very well she says.

          So, one part of me is celebrating the ability to cook bell peppers in my own kitchen while another part of me would actually be happy to have John sitting at his computer waiting for me to make something for dinner that he’d like. I think you go along thinking you’ve adjusted to widowhood and then suddenly, the fact he’s gone rears up and smacks you in the face. At least that seems to be the way it’s working for me.

          Are there any widows out there reading my daily posts? I’d love to hear from you about how you’re handling your widowhood. You can post a comment after this blog, or you can post on Facebook, whichever works best for you.

          Well, my friend has left and we didn't have to go out to eat. My friend said the stuff peppers were "amazing." We only ate two of the eight, so I just put six into the freezer...I'll eat them once I return from my Caribbean vacation.

MANTA RAYS AND DOLPHINS, OH MY

          Well, I’ve used up everything I wrote previously, so now we’ll see if I’m able to actually post something Every. Single. Day. I seriously hope I will have enough to think about, experience, and share with y’all going forward. So, to begin with a brand-new post I’m writing just for Wednesday.

          This past Monday I took up the brochure I printed out that described the shore excursions available on my Caribbean cruise. Yesterday (Tuesday), I called and made reservations for the ones I want. I seriously wanted a lot of them, but my credit card is ever so grateful that too many of them began around the same time. So, interested in what I’m going to do…hope so.

          Half Moon Cay in the Bahamas – I’ll explore Half Moon Cay’s undersea world aboard a new, fully enclosed, air-conditioned, glass-bottom boat. The write up sounds terrific, and I’ll get an opportunity to see different species of corals, fish and other marine life. The helpful crew will tell us tales about Half Moon Cay and identify points of interest in the area. That’s the morning. I’ve reserved a Manta Sun Shelter for the afternoon so I can sit on a beach of powdery white sand and swim in the turquoise water.

          In Grand Turk, Turks and Caicos, I signed up for the Reef Snorkel and Stingray Safari. I’ve never snorkeled before, but the crew will provide gear and instructions. After snorkeling the reef, we’ll go to the “stingray playground.” There, the wild, but gentle (I’ll try not to think of Steve Irwin.) Atlantic rays will allow me to stroke their soft bodies and play with them in their own territory.

          Arrival at Amber Cove, Dominican Republic will provide me with a Dolphin Encounter and Ocean World Day Pass. The brochure says I’ll get to touch, kiss and feed these gentle animals in waist-deep water. Seriously, I’ve always wanted to be with a dolphin and here’s the possibility of being with more than one. There are other opportunities at Ocean World including a walk through a rain forest, seeing the dolphin, shark, sea lion and tropical bird shows…I don’t know if I’ll actually get to see all of the shows, but I’m surely going to try.

          I didn’t make any arrangements for visiting Key West. I’ve been there with my family and will try to go ashore and wander around, but if that doesn’t work out, it’s perfectly fine.

          In Fort Lauderdale, I signed up for the Land and Sea Excursion which includes transfer to the airport…the transfer is the main reason I signed up for this. I could have signed up for the pub crawl, but 10:00 am is just a tad too early for me to begin imbibing. It doesn’t take much and who knows, I might have forgot where I was and when I needed to get to the airport.

          It does look as though I may have some afternoons free after the morning excursions, plus we have two days of cruising, but I have an email that will provide me with information on what’s available aboard the ship. I haven’t looked at it yet…it may be a topic for another post.

          I think my anxiety about this, my first trip as a widow, is being diminished by the excitement I’m beginning to feel. Sheesh, I leave in only nine days!!!

AND NOW

         

         It's now been almost six months since John died. I've written a lot of the previous posts from memory, but going forward I'll be writing more about my day-to-day revelations and how this new journey as a widow is moving along.  

John and I spent almost 55 years together and our paths began to diverge last August with his death. The photo below was taken by our granddaughter in 2017 and is, I believe, a perfect illustration for how our tracks began to diverge in 2019. While his life train moved on to something quite possibly better than what he had been experiencing for such a long time (at least that's my hope and belief), movement on my diverging track is just now beginning. As I've written in a prior post, it's my choice as to what wonderful experiences await. I hope you'll join me. I hope there'll be some laughter with the tears. I hope the grief of some days will be replaced by days of joy and wonder as I move down the track that stretches before me.

WELCOME 2020

           Once again, it’s another first as I celebrate the end of one year and the beginning of a new one without the man with whom I shared 55 of them.

          Back in the day, we used to celebrate together with  our friends. In our youth it was mostly with friends, but as we had children and became older, it was usually just the two of us and our children as they grew up. Then, came the older (wiser???) years where it was just us; and finally, just me watching the fireworks as John couldn’t stay up beyond 10 PM.

          So, tonight won’t be hugely different from the last few years except I’ll know he’s not down the hall asleep. I’ll have some wine, brie and crackers as I toast the end of 2019 and welcome 2020.

          Surely 2020 will bring me wondrous experiences, but only if I choose to have them and I surely do plan to do so. Tomorrow I’ll post my first writing on a new blog. I’m excited to do that and watch it unfold day-by-day. First with the thoughts and experiences from late summer and fall of 2019. Then, I’ll move into writing about my new experiences, thoughts and emotions as I move forward in my widowhood. I so hope you've stayed with me until now and will continue to do so as I continue to post about the new life I'm creating for myself.

GARLIC

          When I left Dianne’s yesterday, as usual, I brought home something I hadn’t brought there…five bunches of garlic she’d grown in her garden. I absolutely LOVE garlic.

          Was it a good visit, you’re wondering? Well, even if you weren’t, it was a GREAT visit.

          When I arrived on Thursday afternoon, after driving through torrential downpours…I think I only used the intermittent windshield wiper setting for about three-minutes total the entire two hours…I met Dianne’s youngest granddaughter, Sylvie. She’s only three and was initially very shy, but warmed up after a while and gave me a huge hug when her mommy came home. Sylvie promised she’d give her daddy a big hug and tell him it was from Auntie Paula. And, Sylvie was so good. I think Di and I talked nonstop for a couple of hours while she amused herself building her own place with blankets, pillows, and other stuff.

          Just as Sylvie was leaving with her mom, the first of Di’s long-time friends arrived. She was followed by three more, all of whom I had met years ago and knew and we settled down to play Shanghai Rummy. I believe they all do this once a month or so. The game was new to me but very fun; and initially, I thought I was going to be the big winner. Then, it was my turn to deal and the tide turned. I didn’t win another hand and ended up in second-to-last place. I didn’t care, it was the best fun I’d had in a while and I’d love to get some of my friends up here to form a Shanghai Rummy club…if you’re interested, let me know.

          Of course, we were all hungry, so we traipsed into town to the local Mexican restaurant and had dinner. It was so very yummy. Back to Dianne’s, we talked some more and then to bed. A very great and tiring day.

          Friday began with more talk about this and that, sharing of memories, etc., and once we were ready for the day we headed for Montesano and Dianne’s moms. I told Mabel I could hardly believe I’d known her for almost 50 years, but it turned out there was (and is) a lot I still didn’t know. Mabel told me about growing up in a Croatian family and about how the whole area had been settled by Croatians. She talked about their holiday customs, making Cro Wine, how most of her parents and their friends had only two children, but her generation each had six. I asked if anyone had written any of this information down and she said nope, but her kids knew most of it.

          I told Dianne she really needed to record what her mom has to say about the old days or begin writing it down. She’s lucky she still has a source that can provide. I no longer have any sources and didn’t do anything about family history. Now, it’s too late and I have a million questions I’d like to get answered, but there’s no one to provide any answers whatsoever. Mable was so interesting that I hope someone in the family…maybe the older granddaughters…takes the time to harness all that knowledge.

          We didn’t do anything else Friday. I encouraged Dianne to go swim with her friend as she always does on Friday. I took my bathing suit and could have gone, but I really just wanted to be on the couch with my book. Before dinner, we had a little Margarita Wine from Costco (I simply have to go buy some). Dianne had made soup for dinner and threw together a great salad (Why are salads always so much better when someone else makes them?) and we finished the wine while we ate. It was very good soup…I love soup.

          After cleaning up, Dianne introduced me to Apple Pie Moonshine. She or one of her friends made it and there’s several quarts in the fridge. It’s pretty sweet, but you cut it with some diet ginger ale and it’s really delicious. There was a lot of laughter during the remainder of the evening, probably at some things that really weren’t that funny. We also joked about whether or not we’d be able to stand and walk when we got up. We did though and slept like angels.

          Except for when the train comes through. Dianne isn’t far from the rails and the law is that every time a train approaches a road that doesn’t have lights or bars, the horn must be sounded. So, the train whistler begins way away and it’s two longish, one short and one longish, a break, and then the series repeats (assume the train has once again reached an unmarked road crossing). Then, it’s right in the room with you (had my window open) and the noise decreases over time as it moves on toward Aberdeen. I rarely hear my noisy cuckoo clock unless I’m listening and Dianne hardly ever hears the train pass by.

          A little more chit-chat this morning, mostly about our upcoming trips. Dianne heard her trip to Viet Nam might be cancelled because of the coronavirus. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that she still gets to go, but she’s preparing to be disappointed. We got ready for the day and I put all my stuff back in my car. Big hugs and I was on the road. It didn’t rain all the way home and at times I could turn the wipers off, but I was glad to say farewell to the freeway and back into my own driveway.

          My first venture out on my own far from home. I started out a little nervous, but all went well’ and I had a wonderful time catching up with Dianne, the friends and her mom. Plus, I have some wonderful new fresh garlic…thanks Dianne.

IT DOES, INDEED, WORK

          For years when I was a supervisor, I told my employees (friends, really) that how they felt and what they did about how they felt was a “choice.” It even got to the point where they parroted this back to me on the unusual day when I went to work feeling bad for one reason or another.

          Choice, in my opinion, is a very powerful word, one that I need to pair with conscious and make a conscious choice about how I am feeling and what I am doing. Since my last post, I’ve made the “conscious choice” to feel good, to look at and list what I’ve accomplished as well as what I’ve still to do.

          I’ve chosen to enjoy the Christmas cards that arrive, to stare at and love the Christmas tree in all its glory, to decorate and prepare my house for my loved ones to come and enjoy on Christmas Eve. I’m also looking forward to making their favorite Christmas cookies and wrapping the gifts I hope they truly enjoy as much as I enjoyed choosing what to give.

          While this could be the most difficult time of the year with John so very absent, I am choosing to make it a good time of the year. I must remember that each and every single day of this season will not be repeatable so I must also choose to make each one a good, if not great, one.

P.S.  Just wanted to point out for my "employees/friends" that the cartoon above is EXACTLY what I looked like each and every day...okay, you can stop laughing now.

SO SAD

           Some days it’s so easy to feel sorry for myself. It seems like everyone I know is busy getting on with their lives while I’m just sitting by the side of the road like some tossed away piece of garbage. And, okay, I’m still sick with this horrid cold and haven’t been to exercise and didn’t walk this morning because it’s so gray and pouring down rain outside. So, there’s reason for feeling sorry for myself, but it really really sucks. 

          Some days it’s difficult to look at what has been accomplished rather than what’s left to do. And, okay it is the Christmas season when I’m writing this, so there’s lots left on the “to do” list. This isn’t a new tradition for me because John was unable to do any shopping or getting about for the last several years. So, everything I’m doing or have done so far isn’t something new that’s been added to my list. The only one whose list got shorter is the older son because this year he won’t have to go buy whatever his dad thinks I should have as a gift and then wrap and deliver it.  

          Just this morning, I completed the remaining four certificates I’m giving as gifts to the grandkids and their parents. Each one is different and is for a different gift. They were fun to make, so why am I not concentrating on a big feeling of accomplishment rather than just feeling ho hum.  

          I’m also not patting myself on the back for the donations I’ve made to several charities nor for the stuffed animals and toys I’ve purchased for the Toys for Tots program. I just need to drop them off today. Plus, with one exception, I think I’ve finished the Christmas gift shopping.  

          I guess I need to stop typing about how sorry I am for myself and proceed to write up a list of ALL the stuff I’ve accomplished and then pat myself heartily on the back for each and every one while saying, “Good job, Paula, good job.” 

          I’ll let you know if it works.

THANKSGIVING 2019

Well, perhaps it was very selfish of me, but I had the best Thanksgiving in 74 years. I didn’t have to go anywhere and I didn’t have to entertain anyone. Perhaps my sons felt abandoned, but it was just something I simply needed to do for myself.

I bought what had to be the most expensive turkey I’ve ever purchased. It was very small, but I wanted to have only the things I like about Thanksgiving dinner the most. So, I had a baked turkey, dressing, gravy, cranberry sauce and dill pickles. I ate one entire leg all by myself…okay, it wasn't all that big and the doggies got a few bites. I had turkey sandwiches for a couple of days and then cleaned the little turkey and made Turkey Tortilla Soup for myself. I still had enough breast for one more sandwich. Also think this is the first time ever I’ve managed to do away with an entire turkey without putting some in the freezer. And, okay, I did toss the carcass, but I’ve never ever liked turkey soup, no matter the recipe. 

          The doggies and I curled up on the couch together; and over the course of the day, I binge-watched a program I’d been wanting to watch for months. I did take time to call my sons and their families and wish them all a Happy Thanksgiving, so, I hope I’m forgiven for not joining their families for dinner or dessert. 

          I simply needed this day all to myself.

LONG-TERM FRIENDSHIP

        

I’m happy I found out how to schedule my blog posts because I’m leaving town for a couple of days.. What you’ll read in the next few days are posts I wrote last November/December. There are only a couple left and then it’s on to new subjects that are more relevant to what’s happening today.

I’m going to drive south to Elma Washington. My good friend Dianne lives there and she is a widow as well. We’ve been friends for almost 50 years. I think AJ was about two when she moved to Seattle to live with my sister and work in the federal building downtown. Besides my sister and their two gay roommates, she didn’t know a soul in Seattle except for me and that was only because of my sister.

          We became fast friends before she decided to return home to Montesano. But, John and I (and AJ) really liked Dianne and over time we got to know her much better and then the man who came into her life, Wild Bill. Actually, he wasn’t really wild, we just liked to call him that.

          Bill owned a dairy farm with his dad and brother on the Wynoochee River. John and I began to go to the farm every Memorial Day, July 4^th and Labor Day weekends. There was always a big potluck (Dianne’s family is huge and they sort of adopted the Karlbergs); and we enjoyed ourselves immensely. John and AJ even went down a time or two to help Bill and his family with farm work. I had a job and couldn’t go. Somewhere in there Dianne and Bill had a daughter, Misty.

Eventually the dairy farm was sold and Dianne and Bill bought some land outside Elma. They built what was to be Bill’s shop (in about 20 years); and I remember one weekend, John wired the whole place for electricity so Dianne could use her washer and dryer and have hot water. This amazing woman did all her cooking on a wood stove, including canning the vegetables she grew, fish they caught, etc. You never went hungry when visiting them; plus, we never ever left without milk or vegetables or something they’d produced on their farm.

          In 1979, John and I had been trying for five years to have another child. Dianne had just had her second daughter, Brie, the previous January.

“You’ll get pregnant when you come down here.” Dianne predicted. “Everyone around here is pregnant. It must be something in the water.”  

So, down we went for Memorial Day weekend as we always did. We slept in our 1970 VW Camper; and it must have been the water because when we went back on July 4^th, I was pregnant with Thor. Dianne seemed a little distracted and I remember telling John she didn’t seem too excited about my pregnancy. Well, Labor Day weekend, I learned the reason for Dianne's distraction...she had gotten pregnant that weekend too and Brie wasn’t even six months old then. Pretty big shock.

Dianne gave birth to a boy, Reese, five days before I gave birth to Thor. For years, John and I and the boys went down to the farm. When they could (which wasn’t often because of horses, cows, crops, etc.) they’d come visit us. Thor would spend a week with Reese in the summer and Reese would spend a week with us.

We had so many good times, meals, adventures, that I have a plethora of memories that include all of us. I could fill pages and pages with those memories, some that would make you howl with laughter, some that would touch your heart, some that are almost unbelievable and each and every one would include both Bill and John.

Since Bill died, the visits have been infrequent and different and now, they‘ll become different again. Like me, Dianne is a strong woman and when Bill died after a long illness, she continued on with her life, maybe not as she’d originally planned, but she continued just as I am now. The two of us continue to have so much in common it amazes me.

I am so looking forward to seeing Dianne (and her family) the next couple of days. I’m looking forward to sharing laughter, food, memories and quite possibly some tears. But, most of all, I’m looking forward to making a new memory, perhaps bittersweet in some fashion, that’s just the two of us “old” widows.

THE SILLIEST THINGS…

can make you sad. Today, (in November) the Gethsemani Farms catalog arrived in the mail. This year I won’t look through it at all because it will make me even more sad. I always ordered John a fruitcake (even though all the carbs and sugar weren’t in his diet plan). But seriously, when you reach a certain age, what kind of gifts are the most satisfying…the ones you can put in your mouth. 

               True, I’d have a small slice or two, but it was never my favorite. This year, Gethsemani Farms can remove me from their mailing list. The first Christmas tradition to be eliminated because John won’t be here.

I'M SICK

        

 It's very rare I become ill with the flu, a cold or anything else, but late one Thursday night, my nose began to run and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't catch it. I hoped it was allergies, but no, it wasn't. I began my regimen of Airborne and zinc lozenges before I went to bed. 

I woke Friday morning with a sore, scratchy throat, a horrible taste in my mouth from the zinc, and before too long, I couldn’t do much of anything but blow my nose. I tried to do a few things, but was just miserable.

          I missed John so much. He would always make sure I had water/juice, fix me chicken noodle soup and/or toasted cheese sandwiches, tapioca pudding, and check to make sure I was alive when I felt as though I was surely going to die. I texted with a few people, and talked to two others to cancel the plans we had for Saturday…it was obvious to me I wouldn’t be going anywhere.

          And, okay, I managed just fine. I made my own soup and sandwiches but didn’t bother with the pudding. I began binge watching The Crown, and the doggies stayed on the couch with me and kept me warm. When the time came for my usual gin at the end of the day, I substituted a couple hot toddies over a period of a few hours and those made me feel much better.

          Still, a kind word from someone in the house, a hug, pat or just reassurance I’d feel better soon would have been very much appreciated…those damn doggies simply won’t learn to speak English. Finally, I’m very grateful I’m still able to take care of myself in situations like this…can’t really ask for much more I believe.

CRAB

Something both John and I loved was fresh cracked crab. I have many memories of eating crab with him.

 The first one that pops up in my memory occurred before Mt. St. Helens blew her top. Seven months pregnant with AJ, we borrowed a camper that belonged to his mother’s friend. We drove around the state and eventually went to the ocean. John hated the ocean and sand and only went there to please me. Before we headed inland, we bought fresh crab and found a place on Spirit Lake that would allow us to camp overnight. This location no longer exists.

          I’m sure the other campers would have liked to shoot us or do something that would have eliminated our presence. We arrived after dark. The camper we’d borrowed had a generator, so John put it to work. We sat at a table and cracked our crabs and ate them with fresh melted butter and crackers. They were absolutely delicious.

          Years later, my parents found a place on Highway 99 that had an all you can eat crab night fairly often. I cannot remember how many times my parents, John, AJ and I went to this place. We’d bring our own nutcrackers, scissors, picks and anything else that would help us remove that delectable delicacy from its shell. It was such fun and a very enjoyable time with my family. Eventually I think the place closed (too much cheap crab maybe) and this pleasure stopped. 

        

          John and I still loved crab; and whenever there was a sale, I’d buy a couple and we’d gorge ourselves at our own dinner table. The crab, fresh melted butter and crackers were like manna from heaven. We loved it. And, I believe AJ, having his first crab in utero and later with his wonderful grandfather, loves this delightful and difficult treat as well. While he isn’t eager to crack crab, he does love a dish I make with crab, hardboiled eggs, cheese and a few other ingredients.

          It wasn’t all that many months ago that John and I each ate a crab with butter and crackers together. I noticed then he wasn’t as quick to crack his crab and gave him a hand when I’d finished cracking mine. He also was unable to eat his entire portion. It made me rather sad to see his pleasure in something he loved diminished.

In the sale paper that came last Tuesday, I noticed QFC was having a sale on fresh crab. I bought a smallish one and last night I ate crab for dinner. Instead of sitting at the table with a warmer keeping the butter ready, I stood at the sink and cracked my crab. Once done, I melted some butter in a small dish and ate my crab dipped in the butter and placed on a soda cracker. In between bites, I had a bit of gin to wash it down. I enjoyed my crab (and gin), but not as much as if John had been seated at the table with me cracking his own crab.

          Another shared enjoyment that’s become a singular enjoyment. Really good, but not quite as good as when I shared it with John or my family.

EXCITED…WITH SOME TREPEDATION

Once again, I’m deviating from the posts I wrote last fall because today is a RED-LETTER DAY!!! I have made, confirmed and paid for a round trip plane ticket to Ft. Lauderdale Florida. Once there, I’ll board the ms Zuiderdam for a seven-day Caribbean cruise. Now I only need to decide and pay for whichever shore excursions I choose. I haven’t read the excursion brochure yet, but know the ship will stop at Half Moon Cay, Bahamas; Grand Turk, Turks and Ciacos; Amber Cove, Dominion Republic; and Key West Florida. I. AM. SO. EXCITED!!!!

          I am also feeling just a wee bit of trepidation. Actually, while I’ve never seen the movie Gravity with Sandra Bullock, how I’m feeling is kinda like I’m untethered in space. Why, I cannot actually determine. It’s not like I don’t have a passport. It’s not like I haven’t travelled in the past. John and I did quite a bit of travelling when we were young and then went to Kenya and China in the early 2000s. I even went on a Costa Rican tour all by myself not that many years ago.

          Still, somehow, this time it feels different and there are different logistics I’ll need to deal with. I believe I’ve found a house/doggie sitter who will take care of things here while I’m gone. I won’t have to make sure someone is checking in on John first thing in the morning and last thing at night, or calling him myself. I’ll need to find a way to and from the airport since John won’t be driving me. I’m sure one of the kids will do it, but my plane back doesn’t arrive until 2:15 am and I’m not going to keep anyone up that late.

          Thinking about it, I guess the word untethered pretty much says it all. I’m going on my own, just me, myself and I. I won’t be part of a tour group with someone shepherding me around and promoting face time with other guests. So, it’s up to me, myself and I to make sure I have an absolutely positively wonderful splendid time. If Me isn’t out there smiling and making friends and engaging in new experiences, then Myself can take over and lead the way; and if both of them decide they want to remain in the stateroom, then I will have to take charge…I can do that!!!

          SO. EXCITED. AM. I...okay, me and myself too!!!!

WILL I BECOME A STAMP COLLECTOR???

I may or may not have mentioned that my husband was a hoarder. The only reason our house didn’t look like one of those on television is that I lived here too and didn’t allow him to spread his crap throughout. Although, over the years he’d managed to creep into the laundry room he built for me years ago, with three file cabinets, a huge trunk and five boxes, plus all the important stuff he “stored” on top of the refrigerator and freezer. He’d move something into the laundry room when I wasn’t home and it would become a fait accompli.

Well, I was oh so happy to spend time last fall cleaning out the laundry room of all the various materials he’d crammed in there.  I would say that about 95.5% of the stuff was worthless and ended up going to recycle. Just as an example, John had his own business for more than 20 years. Not once did he eliminate a single client file (even though most of them had died), or even any of the outdated product catalogs. Unfortunately, I couldn't just toss willy-nilly. Instead, it was necessary to go through all the files and piles slowly to check for anything that might have value. For instance, interspersed among everything were parts of one of his collections--stamps.

          John had polio when he was eight or nine and his grandfather gave him his stamp collection so he’d have something to do while recovering in bed. John continued stamp collecting throughout his life, but he never once tried to organize anything, even though I offered at various times to give him a hand.

          When I began to go through the file cabinets, boxes and trunks, I found envelope after envelope stuffed with cancelled stamps. I knew his sister saved for him, and I wasn’t allowed to just toss a used stamp away. I now gather he had way more people saving cancelled stamps for him. By the time I finished emptying all those envelopes, I had filled a ten-ream paper box to overflowing. I also found many other things which I put into other boxes until such time I could sit down and try to organize it.

          At one point in the fall I contacted the president of a local stamp club. What a small world it is…this man actually knew John when they were in elementary school and graduated from the same high school. Between grade school and high school, they had lost touch. This gentleman and his girlfriend came to visit one afternoon and he perused various stacks of stamp related materials  I put out on the dining room table. It was no surprise to me that the majority (99.5%) of the stuff actually had no value beyond the actual postage. He told me I should just use the uncancelled stamps as regular postage. As a reward for his time and attention, I sent home the box full of cancelled stamps with him. If he happens to find a real treasure, he deserves it for looking at stamp after stamp after stamp after stamp after….

          During this week of Snowpocalypse I’ve not been willing (or able?) to leave home, so I began to go through the boxes of stamp books, folders, envelopes, loose stamps, etc. The majority of it is now organized from several cardboard boxes to one plastic box. There's still additional work that will need to be done to complete the reorganization. I’ll get to it at some point.

          Why bother, I’m sure you’re asking yourself. Well, first of all, it’s kinda interesting; and while it currently has no huge monetary value (with a very few exceptions), it may become valuable in the future. I like to think of my grandchildren (or even children when they’re really really old) looking at the beautifully organized stamp collection and appreciating the beauty and the history that spans all of the 20^th and part of the 21^st centuries.

          And, just maybe, since things seem to come around again and again, the value of this collection will become huge; and while they enjoy the comforts brought, they can think of John with appreciation for his collecting ability and me for my curating abilities…a nice dream anyway.

MY GROCERY BILL IS WAY LESS

Since my previous post had to do with Costco, I thought I'd follow up with this one about shopping, cooking and eating. Grocery shopping has never been a great deal of fun, but now is isn’t fun at all even though I can buy anything I want without having to consider John’s likes and dislikes. Still, I guess about 90% of what I bought at the store was purchased for John because my grocery bill has gone from hundreds of dollars a month to maybe a couple hundred. Still, I am eating well and find I am enjoying being able to cook just for myself because my choices can be of a much wider variety. 

John was always a good eater and ate a lot of fruit. I don’t eat that much fruit, but I do eat way more vegetables than John ever thought about…his idea of a vegetable was green beans out of a can. Salad was one iceberg lettuce leaf with half a bottle of dressing. He liked hamburger patties…me not so much; and I haven’t cooked one since he died. He didn’t want steak, no matter how tender because it was “difficult” to chew; and yet, he loved pork chops and could eat them often. What’s the difference between chewing steak and a pork chop??? 

As an example of what I like, I made my first Thai salmon curry a few weeks ago. This is a dish I discovered a long time ago at a Thai restaurant that went out of business. Since then I’ve found only one other restaurant that offered this spicy and yummy treat. My shopping trip that week included things like red curry paste, Thai fish sauce, Thai basil and bell peppers (John was allergic to bell peppers and just the smell would make him gag.) My first attempt turned out very well although it could have been a bit spicier…next time. 

WHAT ABOUT COSTCO????

          Part of my grocery shopping usually included a weekly or biweekly trip to Costco. Now I’m wondering if I should renew my membership when it expires. True, I’d still most likely buy toilet paper, paper towels, napkins, and detergent, to think of a few things right off the top of my head. I do have a feeling though that just one HUGE package of each might last just me for most of the year. On the other hand, I won’t be purchasing those big boxes of cereal, crackers, multiple cans of soup, green beans, chicken stock, John’s flavored coffee, sugar substitute, fresh and frozen fruit or anything in the way of food that comes in big family-sized amounts. 

        However, I do like Kirkland Gin and it’s fairly cheap compared to other brands at other stores. Then there’s cheap gas and I love their pizza slices and hotdogs. I also got my hearing aids there and get them cleaned every few months or so.

          My membership expires in February. I guess I should know by then if I should remain a member or not.

SLEEPING ALONE

           Sleeping alone is not new for me. Some years before John died, we began to occupy separate rooms. I was actually hoist on my own petard. I was still working then, so it had to be at least 10 years ago or more. Back then, I liked to go to bed at 10:00 pm and have the TV on until I fell asleep. One evening Mr. Crankypants was crabby about having to wait until I went to sleep to go to bed. So, I said, “Fine, I’ll just sleep in the other bedroom.” And did.

          Well, I waited for him to invite me back to the marital bed, but he didn’t. When I broached the subject, he said he slept much better without me because he could spread out. Translate that to he still occupied his small section of the California king while the dog slept crossways in the remainder of the bed.

          As time went by, I would have eventually moved anyway because John snored so loudly, and he began to get up every night in the middle of the night to take his medication and be on the computer for a couple of hours. Even across the hall in my own room, there were nights when he and the dog(s) would wake me up as they got up or returned to bed.

          Of course, our sex life didn’t end with separate rooms. I would “visit” on occasion when the dog(s) were barred and the bedding fresh. There was closeness then with the evening delight, but I’d eventually allow the dog(s) back in and return to my own bed.

          Now, I don’t recommend sleeping alone if you have a spouse to sleep with. I sorely missed the snuggles, the late-night talk, the feeling of closeness. In fact, I still miss all those things today. While I might have tried to rectify sleeping alone before John’s death, I never did and it saddens me to know there won’t ever be any more snuggles or closeness.

          Looking back, I cherish those mornings, afternoons and evenings when we shared the marital bed. I also cherish the fact we had an amazing sexual relationship. Maybe I’ll write more about that another time.