I'M GRATEFUL

 

Today is the last day of November. A week ago, it was Thanksgiving and while I gave thanks for all I have, I didn’t write about it. I aim to rectify that today by writing about a number of things, all of which I am extremely grateful to have or experience. I’m going to begin with yesterday and work backwards, not that would matter to you, the reader…at least I don’t think it would matter.

Yesterday I was given the gift of a beautiful quilt. It’s just the right size to snuggle down with on the couch. It was made by two good friends to show me and remind me always that I am loved. We three were supposed to all get together a while back, but I bowed out because I was at a very low point in my life. They went ahead and got together and spent that afternoon crafting this quilt for me. The low point passed a while ago, but in some ways I’m grateful for it because it brought me this quilt. No matter what happens, all I’ll have to do is look at or snuggle up with this quilt and feel surrounded by the fact of how much they, and others, care for me. These words are a poor substitute for the feelings in my heart.

On Monday afternoon, I finished decorating the house for the holidays. My final project was the Christmas Tree. Each ornament, as I removed it from its packaging, provided me with a memory. The memories varied. The blue stripped ball from my childhood reminded me strongly and brought forth so many memories of my family and those holidays. I was so fortunate to have parents that loved me unconditionally my entire life. These were parents who didn’t have a lot of money, but the joy and love in our house were better than any gifts they could have purchased.

Once again, the one from John’s childhood made me sad, and I elected not to put it on the tree. It’s a cardboard tree-shaped flattened box that contained gumdrops. Not a Christmas passed that John didn’t talk about how he always saved his favorite ones, the red cherry ones, for Santa. He was crushed when he learned his mamma had eaten them because as children, they received so few treats. True, parents usually eat or put away what was left for Santa, but John’s mom was such a terrible woman in so many other ways that he could never let that one memory go. Even when I would pointedly say, “Okay, now tell me a happy memory.”, he was unable to do so.

Then there were the ones I purchased for my best friend on the Atlantic coast. I would buy her one and myself one; and she, in turn, usually sent me one she madem all beautiful examples of her crafting ability. Those reminded me of all the conversations we had over the years via tape recorders. She was here in 1980 when I had Thor and she had her first child. When she returned to Cape Cod, I sent her a tape recorder and our method of communication was born. Sometimes she’d talk for an hour, sometimes ninety minutes or more and vice versa. We shared so much laughter as well as sadness over those years and the ornaments and tapes kept us close, sort of like talking to each other over the back fence. She is now the person who has known me longer than anyone else and vice versa.

There is more than one ornament that went on the tree that was made or gifted by my West Coast best friend. She, too, is extremely talented and crafty. I, in turn, purchased two ornaments so I could give her one. There’s also one I made (imagine that)…she has one as do I. These ornaments hold memories as well, most of them happy.

There are multiple gold ones that carry the name of the place John and I visited or vacationed. With each one came the connected memories. Monday, I once again went to Hawaii, Tennessee, California, Florida, California, Oregon, China, Kenya. Those memories were bittersweet because John wasn’t here to hand me the ornament and share a conversation about that time.

Of course, there are ornaments made by kids and grandkids which I cherish far more than any that could be purchased. There are other ornaments as well, given by friends who remain in my life as well as friends who do not. I thought of each of them and wondered how the ones with whom I no longer connect now fare. There is even an ornament in surprisingly good shape after close to 40 years. The little girl who lived up the street at the time made it out of an actual ice cream cone. The ice cream is a styrofoam ball covered with green and plaid material.

Of course, there are multiple Woodland Park Zoo ornaments. Some of them were purchased, i.e., Hansa and her mother Chai, Maasai-made, glass with the old (and preferred) logo, dated ones given as gifts to people who became members. Tons of great memories surfaced as I put these on the tree. My bosses, staff, staff friends, experiences (I met Paul Neuman in person.), behind the scenes with so many of the animals. I loved my years there.

So, the tree is decorated and I enjoyed the memories brought forth by the process even though it took the entire day. I was sure there would be a number of ornaments I’d put in the give-away box, but not a one ended up there. Even John’s sad little ornament didn’t go there. I put it back in ornament box and it will, I’m sure, continue to remind me of John’s sadness each year going forward.

Thanksgiving was spent at the eldest son’s home with him, his wife and daughter. For the first time since I took over from my mom, I didn’t do a single thing. Okay, I made cranberry sauce and took pickles I’d canned in August, but aside from that, I did nothing. I didn’t cook, help cook, set the table, clean up, do dishes…nothing, zip, nada, nil. It felt a little strange, but I simply sat back and relished being company. As for the food, Angie did a superb job and everything was so yummy I actually had seconds which I haven’t done in forever.

Kuma accompanied me on Thanksgiving and was a very good puppy. He tried to put his paws on the cupboard and table, but was reprimanded and soon gave up. He sat patiently and carefully took any small bits of turkey the humans wanted to share. He did his business outside, and while he so wanted Ruby to play with him, it didn’t take long for him to realize she simply wasn’t interested…a show of all her teeth and grrrrrrrrrrrr got her point across.

The day after Thanksgiving I was supposed to go to Thor’s for leftovers. Unfortunately, when I went up there the Monday before, Thor was just bringing Xander home from school with a fever. Thor came down with it on Tuesday or Wednesday and everyone else was getting sick on Friday. So, even though I’m vaccinated for everything you can possibly vaccinate for, I tendered my regrets with wishes and hopes they’d all feel better soon.

And, what you ask, did I give thanks for on Thanksgiving? Pretty much everything I give thanks for each and every day, i.e., good health, warm shelter, food in the fridge and cupboard, my cuddly pal Kuma, close family, great friends and the potential of another great day to follow.

I thought back and decided to look back at the post, “I am Depressed,” I made the end of September. Today, it’s hard to believe I was so seriously depressed, but I was and could be again…who knows. But I now have Kuma, a wonderful reason to wake up in the morning. He does his best to get to my face to give me sloppy kisses and wiggles all around until I am rubbing his ears and belly. Some mornings I laugh before I’m even upright. It’s the absolute best way to begin the day whether it’s sunny or snowy. I’m most especially grateful for Kuma.

JUST FELT LIKE WRITING THIS GOOD STUFF

 

Last weekend, Haley and her boyfriend, Tyler, came by to give me a hand with some stuff in the garden. Once they were finished, Haley asked, “Do you want us to get the Christmas stuff out of the attic for you?” AJ and Thor were scheduled to do the deed this weekend, but I responded, “Sure, if you want to. I’m sure your dad and Uncle Thor would appreciate that.”

It's been three years since any of those boxes were brought down. I’d forgotten how many there were, especially because I remember eliminating some stuff in 2018. The last item to come down was the Christmas tree in a huge zippered bag. There was no more room in the bedroom with all the other stuff, so Tyler put it in the middle of the living room floor where it sat, totally in the way, for a couple of days.

I hauled the parts out of the bag and amazingly, put them together even though I tried to put the middle on the bottom at first. I totally expected Kuma to try to pee on the tree (Although he’s not yet lifting his leg and I’m seriously hoping that’s a taught habit.), or at the very least to try to gnaw the lower branches and pull the dang thing over. He did try a snack, but I don’t think the texture or taste was to his liking because he hasn’t done it again.

At this point, I should explain that I changed my living room around for the first time in the 53 years I’ve lived in this house. The couch has always been too big to go anywhere but in front of the window, so the Christmas tree has never graced that window. I moved the big couch (it’s so heavy, phew) to the wall where the fireplace is located and organized the remainder of the furniture. I no longer build a fire, so there’s no need to leave it open. The couch and two end tables fit perfectly on that wall. Of course, the coffee table now sits right in the way of getting around, but I can deal with it until January.

So, today I was beneath the tree trying to figure out why one of the light segments wasn’t working. Could not find a reason even though Kuma did his very best to help me. But the tree can swirl around, so I put those branches on the back. They’re even lower than the window, so the neighbors won’t have any idea lights are not lit.

I asked AJ if I could leave it lit 24/7, but he didn’t advise that and suggested I get a timer. I did, and I’m not stupid, but I’ve so far failed in getting the damn thing to work as it should. The last two nights I’ve simply flipped the switch. At some point in the next couple of days I’ll pull the timer off and give it another try.

Anyway, as I was adjusting the branches and investigating the lack of glowing lights on some of the bottom branches, I realized this is not only the first time ever a Christmas tree will glow in the window, but also the first time ever me, myself and I will be responsible for how the tree is decorated. I can pick and choose the ornaments, pick and choose the snow globes that will be placed around and other decorations that just me, myself and I like. True, I’m a little sad to be doing this all on my own as well as it will be just me that enjoys the tree and decorations for the most part, but I’m also kinda excited about this new adventure on which I’m about to embark.

 In the process of decorating, I’m going to seriously cull all the ornaments and display pieces. I’ll keep only those that are important to me although seriously, it will be very hard to choose. I have, in some ways unfortunately, the blessing of a great memory. Almost every item in the house and in the holiday collection will have some kind of meaning to me. Ornaments made/given by my kids and friends. Ornaments that celebrate places John and I vacationed. Ah, it does make me a bit sad to think about eliminating some of them. Still, I can travel down that particular memory as I place the item into the “not going back in the attic” box. The kids can go through what’s there and what they don’t want, I’ll give away.

As for other matters not holiday related, I’ve pretty much got my garden put to bed for the winter for the first time ever. With all the sunny days in November, I have been able to spend a couple of hours in the afternoon in the sunshine raking, cutting back, trimming, pulling and tossing plants that usually hang about until a nice day in February.

As a matter of fact, instead of sitting here at the keyboard I should be outside doing a bit more work. But when the urge to write comes upon me, I’m learning to listen and to plop myself in front of the keyboard. Still, I’m going to finish this first.

I find having my garden put to sleep exciting because it means I’ll have a jump on spring gardening. I’ll be able to spread out my soaker hoses so they water what will rise from the ground. I’ll be able to use the pet/bird friendly mole stuff (sheesh, I hope it works) around and, hopefully, force the little devils back into the greenbelt…at least for a time maybe. I should also be able to control the spread of some plants by yanking them as they sprout in locations I’d prefer they not be.

And, as long as I’m typing away, I will provide an update on Kuma. I still love, love, love him and think he’s going to be a beautiful dog when he’s full grown. I think I said he’s a Tri Red and in certain lights, the reddish-brown fur looks as though it’s been given a magenta rinse. His fur is also extremely soft and it looks as though he’s growing the “feathers” he’s supposed to get on his legs.

At his second Vet appointment, he had gained almost five pounds which is good. I keep his bowl filled and he grazes throughout the day but isn’t over eating. He loves his toys and it’s all I can do to not go buy out the store. Kuma’s breeder said to not get him any soft toys because he’ll destroy them. I couldn’t resist a teddy bear, and sure enough, he had the ears, bow and tail chewed off in no time. Teddy has also lost an arm, but his squeaker is still in place and working. Even the “tough boy” toys are no match for his teeth and jaws. Kuma also loves to play fetch even though he refuses to “drop it.” I can have it to throw when he’s ready to give it up.

Kuma goes in the car with me most places. When he has to stay home in his crate, he gets a Kong filled with frozen peanut butter or dog food. I’m always amazed at how little, if any, of the frozen product is left when I return. When I’m sitting here at the computer, he’ll come and I’ll put my hands under his front legs and lift him to my lap. He really likes that and I’m wondering if I’ll still be able to lift him when he’s fully grown. I’m hoping that old adage about picking up a calf every single day once it’s born will allow it to be picked up when it’s a bull is actually true…don’t think so.

I wanted to sign Kuma up for a behavior class, but he couldn’t go until he’d had his shots so we missed the fall window. I figure we’ll go in January unless I believe his doesn’t need to go in order for him to obey.

Well, the back yard is in full sun for the moment, so it’s time to replace my jammies with my gardening clothes and head out there. I’ve some bulbs that have to be planted and after this weekend, this fair-weather gardener will most likely elect to remain inside.

ANOTHER JOY OF BEING INDEPENDENT

           

 

Ah, the joys of being independent. Once again, very early this morning, I experienced one of the joys of living with just me, myself and I as well as Kuma. I simply must share this wonderful new experience.

Over the last few days, I would notice a funny sound that would come now and then. It didn’t last long enough for me to actually track the source and the two individuals who visited during this time didn’t hear it at all…or if they did, they didn’t ask me about it.

The source became very apparent just before 3:00 am this morning. It was the smoke alarm which is located just outside my bedroom door. I thought perhaps I could simply ignore it, but the eeeeeeeeepk that came periodically like maybe every thirty to sixty seconds wasn’t going to allow me to go back to sleep. And, Kuma, such a disappointment. While me, myself and I wanted to scream with frustration, he simply curled up and snored.

After a bit, I decided I had to get up and remove the dead battery from the smoke alarm. I thought doing that would eliminate the noise. So, there I was in the middle of the night, hauling my stepstool from the kitchen to the hallway and climbing up those two steps to reach the noise maker. Again, Kuma was a huge help…he got out of bed and laid down right by the stepstool so I had to make sure I didn’t step on him as I came down.

Amazingly, I managed to get myself up and down those two steps without falling or tripping on the dog. Since the location was the hallway, I did have lots of support on both sides to keep me upright. Also amazingly, the smoke detector cover popped right off and the battery right out. I put them on the bathroom counter figuring I’d put in a new battery when I actually got up for the day.

So, was that the end of that annoying noise…NO, a huge frustrating NO. It continued to beep throughout the rest of the night and eventually, like Kuma, I was able to ignore it and return to sleep.

Even before coffee this morning, I dug out a new battery and put it into the smoke detector. The beeps continued, so I must have put it in incorrectly. Back up on the stepstool to reverse the battery. That time I waited on the top of the stepstool to see if the beeps continued.

They did. I tried to figure out how to remove the entire thing from the ceiling and came to the realization I would need to get a screwdriver. I gave up, made my coffee and watched the first part of Good Morning America while throwing Kuma’s ball down the hall multiple times to wear off his excess energy.

Eventually, I was surprised to no longer hear the eeeeeeepk sound. Guess the new battery just needed to make good friends with the smoke detector. Another success for me, myself and I…well, maybe typing just a bit too soon since the cover still has to be replaced.

I'M IN LOVE!!!

             

Yes, I’m madly, wildly and most happily in love with the new “man” in my life. Before I go on to sing his praises, I want to once again thank everyone who reached out to me when I blogged about how depressed I was. I did have a conversation with my doctor a few days later. Her opinion was that one of the reasons I became so depressed was my inability to go to sleep and/or stay asleep at night. She prescribed a low-dose anti-depressant for me to take at bedtime to help me go to sleep. It’s working out very well, and I’m so grateful to be able to get in bed and actually go to sleep. No serious side effects so far.

I broached the subject of getting a pet to my doctor as well. She indicated she thought it a good idea if that was what I really wanted, that having a living presence to cuddle and be with would definitely be a plus. So, several days later, I found Kuma on Washington State Puppies for Rehoming. I hadn’t definitely decided to get a puppy or a cat, but when I saw his little face, I knew I’d found my new companion.

As of today, I’ve had Kuma for an entire week. I certainly have no major complaints about him except for his puppy teeth and puppy nails. I’m working with him so he’ll stop trying to bite whatever part of me he can reach and think I’m making progress. I distract him with old clean rags I’ve tied into a knot and other purchased hard toys. I’m also working on having him sit instead of jumping up, but we have a way to go. On the couch, he jumps all over me and since it’s still shorts weather, my legs look as though I’ve walked through a briar patch.

To date, we have had no “accidents” in the house. I erected a small fence which the visiting coyote or raccoon knocked down and always take him to that area when it’s time to potty. This is working unbelievably well and I’m very glad I won’t be finding any “surprises” in my flowerbeds.

Kuma sleeps on my bed, originally on a fluffy pillow I’ve put in his crate. Now, he sleeps on a blanket on top of my duvet. The first night he got me up after 2:00 am. We went out, he peed, we got back in bed, and we both went right back to sleep. All the other nights except one, he is able to wait until almost 6:00 am. The one exception was Saturday night. I woke up and had to pee, so he did too. Then, he slept until after 9:00 am Sunday morning as did I. Here I thought my sleeping in days were over. Even though it isn’t a warm human that cuddles against my back or tummy, it feels wonderful to have Kuma snuggled up against me during the night.

Living out in the country, Kuma had no idea about planes or helicopters. Initially, they scared the heck out of him and he’d run to cower by me. Now, he looks at them with interest, and I wonder if he’s thinking they have to be the biggest bugs ever. Kuma also hasn’t been around traffic. I’m walking him around the neighborhood every day to accustom him to being on a leash as well as any traffic that comes along. I think his first experience on the busy street I usually walk will be very traumatic for him, especially when huge trucks fly by. That’s at least a week or more away and then we won’t walk too far for the first time.

Kuma is also very good about staying right with me. I worked out in the front yard a couple of different days and he never even tried to leave the driveway or yard. He would growl and bark at neighbors who walked by with their dogs, but he didn’t try to go after or chase. For the most part, he laid in the grass and watched me work. When he thought he’d been ignored long enough, he’d come over and get right in the middle of what I was doing and plop down; as if to say, “Hey, I need some loves.”

So far Kuma has met almost ten people and three dogs. He is friendly and acts happy to meet the new people and dogs. The first dog he met is smaller and she was too afraid to play. The second wanted to play and Kuma did interact well with him. I think if I’d stayed right there, they would have had a great play session. The third dog is larger and old. He suffered Kuma’s attentions, but his attitude was pretty much, “Don’t bother me. “, which was fine because he had two humans to keep him occupied.

When I leave and cannot take Kuma, he has to go in his crate. He also has to be in there while I do my exercises because he wants to “help” me. Initially, I ordered a new one, but did an ask on Buy Nothing and was able to save myself over $100…love Buy Nothing. Anyway, Kuma doesn’t like being in his crate. He yelps and cries as though his paw is being crushed. He doesn’t do it the entire time, just initially or at least that’s how he is while I’m exercising.

When I can take Kuma, he rides passenger. I tried putting him in the back, but he wasn’t having it and climbed in front. He lays quietly in the passenger seat and didn’t get out even when I stopped at Costco for gas. He just stayed there even though he couldn’t see me.

So, as you can tell, I am extremely happy with my new companion. Who knows, but maybe I can stop the anti-depressant at night before too long. That will be the top subject when I talk to my doctor the end of the month. Seriously, I really had no idea just how much Kaizer and Karma added to my well-being until they were both gone. Kuma’s totally different from them, but gives me the love and affection I’d been missing for the last six months.

So, my advice if you’re depressed, lonely, unhappy, think about getting a puppy!!! It’s certainly working for me.

SORRY I'M DEPRESSED

 

          I had absolutely no idea what I was instigating when I posted the “I am Depressed” post on my blog with a link from Facebook. In some ways, it was very reassuring because so many people reached out and that included to my son who showed up at 6:30 pm on the day I posted because people had contacted him, worried about my mental health. That was not my intention when I made that blog post. I was merely, and thought I was merely, stating how I was feeling. I guess mental health has become of the utmost importance.

          First, let me say that while I’m depressed and feeling very sorry for myself, I would in no way do anything to harm myself unless: If you could guarantee me that I could sit in the corner and watch and listen to all my family and friends be so SORRY that I’d done myself in; then, of course, I’d take the gas pipe, swallow the pills or do whatever it would take to end my life. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on my current state of mind, there is no guarantee. For that reason, and the fact that ending my life would be exceedingly selfish when it comes to family and friends, I would never ever stop living on purpose.

          So, a very serious thank you to those of you who reached out telling me to seek professional help, encouraging me about the fact things will get better, etc. I do so appreciate your doing so, and it did, indeed, help me feel better. Still, I am at a place where I do feel depressed, am feeling sorry for myself, and am CHOOSING to wallow in those feelings for the time being. I’m sure it’s not the  permanent solution I will CHOOSE to have in the remainder of my life. Meanwhile, until I find a way that leads me forward to whatever my life may provide in the future, I’m going to be selfish and CHOOSE to simply feel bad, sorrowful and wallow.

I AM DEPRESSED

 

          I am depressed. It’s something I’ve fought against my entire life and even taken medication for at times. I don’t know if scientists have discovered a gene(s) responsible for depression, but I’m sure it’s genetic. My mother, grandmother and great-grandmother, all of whom were alive during my life, suffered from depression.

          I fight against being depressed, but today I am ready to put down any effort toward being not depressed. I’m extremely tired of putting on a “show” for family and friends. And, I feel I have to put on a “show” for them because they do not want to hear or see the negativity I’m feeling most days.

          Yes, I’ve been writing and posting about other things in my life, but beneath all those upbeat posts, the biggest part of me is actually thinking about how I really don’t give a flying fuck about the garden, fall, fingernails, writing, or really, anything at all. They’re all just efforts that I feel I have to make to remain on the periphery of my family’s and friend’s lives.

          Something else I’ve been doing, hate and want to just stop is exercise. Seriously, what’s the point of walking, raising my cardio level, or being physically active in anything? Significant portions of my body hurt whether or not I exercise; and it’s likely they’ll continue to cause me discomfort until I can no longer feel.

          Then, there’s eating, the only real physical pleasure left to me. Even that is accompanied by thoughts of how I should not be having that particular food. It’s full of fat or sugar or carbs. I shouldn’t have that drink every day at gin time because it’s not good for me either. Eating and drinking, my last pleasures, are always spoiled by those negative thoughts.

          As a young woman, I remember envisioning a future where I’d travel the world, see unbelievable things, do unbelievable things all while surrounded by or accompanied by family and friends. Still, even then, while it wasn’t at the forefront of my thoughts and plans, I think I knew none of that would ever really come to pass. I knew I’d end up like my female antecedents, living alone, doing most everything alone and being depressed. I now wish I’d been more loving and supportive of my mother and grandmother. Guess it’s like they say or threaten, “What goes around comes around.”

          As a widow, I’m totally unimportant to absolutely anyone. My sons check in once a week to make sure I’m still alive and, perhaps to see if I need anything. There are a few folks I see regularly, one for exercise class, another for walks and the third for coffee, sometimes lunch. Other family and friends check in every now and then, but I’m definitely not at the top of their contact list and why should I be. I often wonder how long I’ll be dead before anyone realizes I’m gone.

          Yes, besides being depressed, I’m feeling sorry for myself…but if I don’t, who will? There’s absolutely nothing in my future that stands out as a huge event to which I can look forward. There’s no chance of meeting anyone, falling in love, becoming a new mother, finding a new and interesting job, or taking a trip to the moon. I’ve done all those things and am too old to do again; and as for trips, there are many reasons why I won’t be going to the moon or anyplace else.

          So, today as I sit here typing this, feeling depressed and sorry for myself, the only big event I foresee in my future is death. It’s not as though I’m going to seek it out, it’s just the only experience left. Today, right now, I think I’m going to simply withdraw from life, hunker down in my house like a snail and wait for the man (or woman) with the scythe to arrive.

FALL

 

          Today is the solstice or the beginning of Fall. I, however, jumped the gun and began my fall last Saturday. When it was time for a shower, the thermostat read 63 degrees and I was cold. So, I turned the heat back on. I usually try to wait until September 30^th, but I’m older now and apparently get cold sooner rather than later.

          Later that same day, I disconnected the air conditioner and rolled it into the back bedroom where it will reside until next spring, probably June, when the outside temperatures may require its use.

          To say these changes sadden me would be an understatement. I’m not ready for colder temps, rain and way shorter days. I realized last week that rather than the sun disappearing later in the evening, it’s now going down before 7:30 pm. And, when I get up at my normal potty time of 4:00 am, it’s dark, dark, dark. I’m just not ready and dread the days when the sun is with us barely eight hours a day.

          On the other hand, as the days pass, beauty will enrich my life as the trees turn colors and drop their leaves. I especially love the popular trees that carpet their surroundings with a beautiful golden yellow. True, my flowers will stop flowering and go dormant, but with a promise to return in the spring.

          Meanwhile, as the days go along, I’m working as hard as possible in my garden. As I think I’ve said before, I’m a fair-weather gardener, so I’m hoping to get a lot of fall preparation done before mid-October. I have to admit I’m happy with the progress I’ve made so far and hope it continues.

          In all the years I’ve lived in this house and gardened, I think that perhaps only once did I finish putting everything to bed in the fall and then worked to resurrect it in the spring so it looked gorgeous until it was time to put it to bed again. Most folks who visit think my garden is beautiful, but I live with it day-to-day, so am completely aware of what needs to be done and what hasn’t been done. Rather than haul them around and point out all the things I see wrong, I merely say, “Thank you.”

          So, here’s to fall, pumpkin spice (which I really don’t care for), colorful leaves, shorter days and longer nights, more sunny days before the rain sets in, and joy in being alive to experience all this brisk, vibrant season has to offer.

FAMILY TOGETHER AGAIN

 

          It’s very hard for me to believe, but my oldest son turned 52 last Friday. I know time passes and passes very quickly, but in my own youth, I never envisioned myself as the mother of a middle-aged man…assuming 52 is considered middle-aged these days. I know I have a wealth of memories from all those years, but somehow, it still seems as though he should be young and small enough to climb up into my lap for snuggles. At least I have those remembrances even though they make me wish for just one more snuggle…and I could probably get one, but I’d have to climb up into his lap.

          We celebrated his birthday on Saturday, and for the first time since the pandemic began, I made dinner for the whole family. Initially, AJ told me he was just going to throw a couple of chickens on the grill and I should go to his house. Then, Angie heard I’d offered to make Swedish Meatballs (which I did for his birthday for I don’t know how many years), and her response was, “Hell yeah.”

          Finally, I had a great reason to actually clean my house. Now, don’t get too excited about that because cleaning house at my current age is nothing like cleaning house was decades ago. For instance, I did not wash my windows in- and outside and I didn’t scrub any of my floors on my hands and knees. Back in the day, getting ready for an event took major preparation and lots of time. I mean, seriously, what would guests think if the windows didn’t sparkle and eating off the floor wasn’t a possibility?

          Still, I vacuumed extremely well all of the rugs throughout the house. I also used the Swiffer on the hardwoods and got up all the dust that had accumulated as well as any left-over dog hair I hadn’t sucked up in previous vacuuming. Then, I dusted every single thing in the living, dining, bathroom and bedroom. Some had been dusted in the not-too-distant past, but I think there were things in the living and dining rooms that hadn’t been dusted since May, maybe.

          Now, I have to admit I didn’t make Swedish Meatballs from scratch, although I have done it that way a couple of times. Instead, I went to Ikea and purchased bags of frozen meatballs. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any gravy packets, so I used brown gravy packets and added sour cream.

          Now, as an aside, I rarely go to Ikea, maybe once a year. This time, I walked through their entire showroom and found myself wishing and or even thinking I should sell my house and find something that was about 1,000 square feet and furnish it entirely from Ikea. I loved the way some of their displays looked and the idea of having everything absolutely new was very appealing and entirely possible if I sold my house.

          That experience was prior to my cleaning house. Now that everything is clean and sparkling, I’m more than happy to stay here surrounded by stuff that I’ve collected during my lifetime. The amazing thing about all my belongings is that for the most part, you can point to an item and I can tell you where it came from and/or who gave it to me. Sadly, once I’ve gone to the great beyond, I think the majority of my junk will end up in a garage sale or donated. Ah well, I’ve enjoyed having it.

          Only Arayli was missing from the dinner table and I wished she had been there to make the family complete. Angie brought a big yummy salad and there were enough meatballs, gravy, potatoes and biscuits for AJ to take home two containers for his lunch this coming week, plus I kept one for my Sunday dinner. I believe everyone had more than enough to eat.

Once we were done with dinner, no one seemed in a hurry to get up and clear the table. Instead, everyone talked, laughed, joked, remembered past events; and I loved sitting in my usual place (AJ as the birthday boy sat in what had been his father’s) and watching and listening to the most important people in my life.

When cupcake time came, Haley helped clear the table and I stacked dishes in the sink for later. She put I don’t know how many candles on one cupcake (more candles than cupcake) and lit them. I pulled out the little musical “Happy Birthday” box and Xander, as the youngest, wound the handle and led us in singing the birthday song. Then it was cupcake and ice cream time. Very yummy.

This was followed by presents. Most were cards with money inside. At the ripe old age of 52, what kind of a list can you actually compile. AJ can carry his special day forward as he considers what to buy with his birthday loot.

Sunday morning, I sent all six family members a text telling them how wonderful it was to have them all around the table once again and that my heart grew three sizes as a result. I am so blessed to have my family close once again and so very thankful. I’m looking forward to more family times like this in the coming months.

FINGERNAILS

 

          In my last post, I indicated I would consider getting my nails done my reward for finishing the deck. This led me to think about my fingernails and their history. You’re dying to hear the story aren’t you.

          When I was about 12 years old, I had a babysitter named Lynn. She had beautiful long red fingernails which I envied. She told me if I stopped biting my fingernails, she’d teach me how to do my nails so they could look as beautiful as hers.

          That was enough incentive for me to stop chewing on the ends of my fingers. I know there are other incentives out there, but I didn’t need to have my fingers covered with hot oil or any other nasty stuff. All I had to do was think about Lynn’s fingernails and the finger heading toward my mouth would stop and pull back.

          So began my long-term care for my fingernails. And, it wasn’t easy because to keep them looking nice, I had to go through the ritual every single Sunday night which took about two hours.

          First, off came the old nail polish. Then I pushed back the cuticles and filed the nails back. When that was complete and my hands were washed and dry, I applied a base coat of polish, followed by two coats of polish and lastly a top coat. I did this religiously and was proud of how my nails looked.

          In high school, I signed up for the secretarial course which included three semesters of typing instruction. Back then, there were no computers and you had to press the typewriter keys very hard to make them rise up and make an impression on the paper. At the end of the line, you had to raise your left hand and push the carriage back to the right in order to turn the paper and begin a new line.

          The first two semesters, I had a male instructor. He didn’t even look at my hands or nails and I did just fine in the classes. For my final semester, the instructor was an old woman with white hair. After a couple of weeks of class, she came by my desk on a Friday and told me, “If I can see your nails over the end of your fingers on Monday, you will automatically fail this class.”

          Oh. My. God. I was so pissed. I went home and wailed to my parents who supported the teacher. They’d never finished high school, so their opinions of teachers were very high. There was no way they were going to go see that teacher and tell her I didn’t have to cut my nails. So, I went to school on Monday without any fingernails.

          Amazingly, I failed every single typing test after that. I couldn’t type without my nails. To give that horrible woman credit, she did let me retake the typing tests, which I passed with flying colors, once my nails grew back.

          All through my life, marriage, children, gardening, cleaning, everything I had to do with my hands, I kept my Sunday night ritual of doing my nails. I always wore gloves no matter what the job was I was doing. The only time I didn’t don those attractive mitts, was to wash myself or my children.

          As my grew older, my body changed and I was probably in my mid-50s when my nails began to split and peel. I could do them Sunday night and by Tuesday have at least one, usually more, that needed care. I was just about ready to give up.

          That’s when my future daughter-in-law introduced me to acrylic nails. The first time I had a “full set” applied, my fingernails hurt so badly that night I figured if it was going to be that way every time, I wouldn’t do it. But, fortunately for me and my nail person, the pain happened only that first time.

          I really liked the acrylic nails. I only had to have them done every two weeks and they looked almost as good at the next appointment as they had at the previous one. I started out with a Vietnamese woman up on Aurora. She moved from there to another location and then to her final location. I followed her.

          Then, I went in for my scheduled appointment to find that she had sold or given her business to her nephew. I never did get that quite straight, but I liked the man who did my nails, his wife and their daughter who was always happy to talk to and entertain me while my nails dried.

          When I retired, I decided I would give up my fingernails, so I had them removed. It took a while for them to grow out and when they did, it was back to the splitting and peeling mode. In addition, I couldn’t do anything without my fingernails. Sewing, writing, anything that involved my hands was more difficult without fingernails. So, I returned to my nail guy and had acrylics replaced.

          I remained their client for thirteen years until they decided to close/sell the business. It was very sad because they had become like family. They talked of their lives and I talked of mine. I took Haley there for manicures and pedicures with me before we went to the Nutcracker.

I didn’t care for the folks who took over the business because I thought they didn’t do a very good job. So, I tried another place which is where I think I got a toenail fungus. Let me tell you, that stuff is horrible. I think it took three years before my big toes returned to normal. I stopped going there and found someone new, quite by chance.

The woman who does my nails now does the best job I’ve ever had. My nails are thin and do not look as though they are false. She went to visit relatives in Vietnam a few years ago and I had to try someone else. On a scale of one to ten, with my person being a ten, that person was maybe a three or four. I know she’ll visit again and I’m not looking forward to her being gone.

Now, I have my nails done every three weeks on the same day at the same time unless something happens and she or I need to reschedule for some reason. I imagine I’ll continue to have my nails done until I can no longer get to the nail salon. It’s an indulgence, but one I believe I more than deserve. I like looking at my hands and seeing the jewel colors on the ends of my fingers.

DECK

 

Whoa, my lower back is killing me. I so wish my masseuse hadn’t moved to Spokane because I’d do my darndest to get an appointment with her ASAP. I just wish I could find someone as good as she was. Anyway, I’m here letting my fingers dance over the keyboard while sitting up as straight as I possibly can to make my back feel better.

Why is her back so painful, I just know you’re wondering, so I’ll tell you, and you can help me celebrate because my lower back problem was rightfully and gainfully obtained. 

THE DECK IS FINISHED!!!!!!  Yes, finally, after months of work, the deck is completely renewed. In case you’ve forgotten, I had a new UV roof put on a portion of the deck in early spring. That, as so many projects do, led to additional projects, i.e., cleaning everything off the deck and pressure washing, followed by covering one section with two coats of sealant, then the second section; and finally, today, I applied one coat of clear waterproofing sealer to the wood beneath the roof.

I wish I could think of something nice I could do for myself…a massage would be divine…but at the moment, I cannot think of a food or drink that appeals as a reward. I am getting my nails done later this afternoon so I guess I’ll consider that my reward.

There was one other project I had to complete which was pressure wash and paint three boards on the north side of the house where I had a lean-to removed. That, too, is done. Now, if my garden were in its best shape, but it’s not, so onward tomorrow. At least gardening shouldn’t make my back too unhappy.

FOOD

 

          Don’t you just love to eat? Isn’t there a huge list of foods that you are always delighted to have on your plate? Don’t you sometimes wish you could have a magic plate that just refilled itself with something new and delicious every single meal? Maybe you don’t, but I sure do.

          Since I don’t have a magic plate, if I want something on it that means I have to prepare whatever I’m going to eat. That’s not a problem because I’m a fairly decent cook, but find that all too often whatever I’ve decided to make, the results could feed not only me, but a couple of the neighbors. It’s very difficult to cook for just one person.

          If I’m not cooking, then I’m either eating out or bringing a meal home. Again, depending on what it is I’m having, there are times when it would be good to share all that food with someone. There isn’t anyone, however, so there are times when I eat the leftovers for lunch and/or dinner the next day. There’s nothing wrong with that unless I make the mistake of eating more of it the same day.

          Briley’s makes the best ribs, mac n’ cheese and collard greens. Typing that out didn’t make my mouth water because the last time I brought this home, I ate it for a very late lunch and then finished off the remainder for a late dinner. My tummy wasn’t happy that night and it’s going to be a while before I order again.

          I think I ‘ve mentioned I read a lot and there are times when I read about a dish or food that sounds pretty good. Recently I’ve been reading books set in the south. Today for lunch I had a tomato sandwich, something that is apparently a southern thing. That’s two pieces of soft white bread spread with mayo, topped with sliced tomatoes sprinkled with salt and pepper. It was so yummy. I had it with a helping of coleslaw.

I’ve never made coleslaw in my life until this week. I found a recipe online that was supposedly the same coleslaw that you’d get at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I haven’t been to KFC in forever, so I crossed my fingers it would be good. It is so yummy, and I had it for dinner last night too. Initially, I thought I might have to share with a neighbor, but I think I just may finish it off at dinner today with the spicy grilled chicken breast I’m preparing.

          That’s something else I don’t do very often, grill. It seems a waste to turn the grill on for just a single burger or hotdog. About the only time I do use it is when I make teriyaki flank steak and teriyaki chicken breast. It will get used today because the spicy chicken breast kabobs wouldn’t be as good made in the oven.

          This morning I also made myself pancakes. I had buttermilk left over from the coleslaw and decided I’d use it to make thin pancakes. I used the cast iron skillet instead of the electric grill. They were okay, but I think if I’d used the grill, they would have been much better. A little butter and huckleberry jam…they were absolutely delicious.

          All too often, though, I find myself not wanting to bother with cooking or going out. I want something that’s easy and quick. That’s when grilled cheese sandwiches on brown bread come into play. Those with tomato soup for dipping makes a meal. I try to eat salad at least several times a week and wish there were a way to make more than one salad at a time. I suppose I could try making a big salad with all the veggies I include, i.e., radishes, green onions, celery, cucumber, carrots, avocado, feta cheese all mixed with a blend of greens. Sometimes, I’ll cook a small piece of sirloin or chicken breast, chop it up and add it to the salad…a full meal in a bowl. Yesterday, I took my own advice and made a big salad. I ate half with some salmon and will have the other half tonight with steak. I guess I can make more than one helping at a time. Wonder why it took me so long to think of that.

          There are also lots of choices in the frozen section at the grocery store. I like Marie Callander’s chicken pot pies and Stouffer’s lasagna, but haven’t tried many of the other meal choices. I also buy plain cheese pizzas to which I add my own veggies and extra cheese. One of those is good for dinner with leftovers for lunch or dinner the next day.

          Lately I’ve had a hankering for spaghetti and have been thinking how I can go about making that dish without having to put several meals into the freezer. I suppose I could ask Angie and AJ if they’d like to share. There have been times when I’ve made too much and take the surplus to Angie’s work. That way she pretty much has dinner ready when she gets home.

          Over my lifetime, I’ve pulled recipes out of magazines, printed them from online or copied one made by a friend or family member. Every time I get my folder out of the cupboard and begin looking for a particular recipe I’ve made before, I eliminate a few more recipes. There are ones in there that I’ll never ever make, so why am I hanging on to them? It’s not like some event is going to come up where I’ll go, “Oh, yes. I can make that recipe I’ve had for decades that serves 12.”

          Finally, I guess the reason I’m blogging about food is because it’s really the only physical gratification left to me at this stage of life. The tastes, textures, even sound can make me sigh with pleasure and contemplate second or even third helpings. It makes me wish I had my own personal chef to grocery shop and prepare me the best food ever. Were I to win the lottery (not much chance since I don’t buy tickets), the first thing I would do is hire a chef. Then, I’d sit on a fine cushion and gain enough weight to be the fat lady in the circus.

Anyway, I don’t know how many of you that read my blog have to cook for just one person. If you are one of those folks, I’d love to hear about your efforts and successes.

EXERCISE

 

          This topic may have been blogged about in the past, but it’s heavily on my mind these days, so I’m going to blog about it. As I’ve stated before (I think), I hate exercise, hate it, hate it, hate it. I also hate sweating, hate it, hate it, hate it. I was perfectly happy going about my business without exercising, walking, doing anything that demanded regular physical activity.

          It’s probably been close to 20 years ago now when I was FORCED to exercise five days a week for four hours. I hurt my shoulder at work and the MD looking at my chart said, “We’re not going to just fix your shoulder, we’re going to fix you.” I guess the L&I folks went along because I was SENTENCED to work for four hours at my job and have physical and occupational therapy and directed exercise the four afternoon hours.

          I’m not going to kid you, it was HELL!!! Unfortunately, or quite possibly, fortunately by the time the four-week sentence was completed, I felt better than I ever had in maybe my entire life, at least my life after the age of 50. I felt so good, I joined a gym and got up at 4:30 am to go work-out before it was time to go to work. Amazing, huh???

          Once I retired, I even hired a trainer for a while to encourage and teach me how to work out better. I loved that, and loved the trainer whom I haven’t seen for a very long time now. I hope he and his family are doing well. I continued to go to the gym for many years after that. It was 24-hour Fitness and I had a life-time membership. Somehow, they screwed me out of my membership and pissed me off, so I stopped going. I haven’t really been in a gym since then.

          That didn’t mean I stopped exercising because my neighbor walked her husband to the bus stop every morning and proceeded on a longer walk after that. I joined her and we spent early mornings, rain, shine, freezing, whatever Mother Nature threw at us, walking for an hour. We kept this up for years and then her husband retired too, so we didn’t need to walk at 7:30 am. Our walking times got later and later; and now, she pretty much walks without me or with her husband.

          I do have good reasons for my lack of walking however. For some of that time, I had two hip replacements, but was soon walking again after each one. Shoulder repair took a while before I was back in my walking shoes. Regrettably, I developed another physical problem which put walking very low on my want-to-do list. I have peripheral artery disease (PAD) in my calves. I can walk for about 2500 steps before the pain in my calves becomes excrutiating.  I then have to stop and rest for a few minutes and/or massage my calves before I can continue. Then, it’s another 2500 or so and the same again. Meanwhile, my walking partner can usually complete our hour-plus-long walk in half my time. She says she doesn’t mind, but I feel like she’s sacrificing her cardio workout to stay with me.

          There are the Enhanced Fitness Classes at the Senior Center. I do try to faithfully attend these three times a week. I’m not always successful, but I do try. These classes offer cardio, stretches and some weight work. I feel better when I attend and I really like the instructor and some of the other attendees are very nice folks. I’ve made a couple of new friends through this class.

          Finally, when I had hip and shoulder surgery, I was given physical therapy. From that and my fitness class, I’ve pulled exercises and stretches that I attempt to do every single morning. They don’t make my heart pump very hard, but they do stretch out all the muscles from my toes to the ends of my hair. They keep me feeling more or less fit.

          When I think of my mother or my grandmother and how they never walked all that much or did anything in the way of exercise, I find myself a bit envious of their lifestyles. At the same time, I have to acknowledge the fact neither woman would have been able to cart the various heavy pots, bags of dirt and other stuff around without some assistance. They would also not have been able to do the things I’ve done this year all by myself…okay, me and I helped too…like pressure wash the deck and house, stain the deck and this week, scrape and paint the north side of the house and apply paint.

          These thoughts make me wonder how they spent their time and whether they felt fulfilled. Were they lonely with days that passed far too slowly? Did they wish they had gardens or homes that required lots of care and maintenance? Would they have been able to do what I’ve been doing at the same age? I don’t know and cannot ask them because they are no longer available…wish I could though.

          As I said in the beginning, I do hate exercise and sweating, but how my life would be if I didn’t exercise and sweat keeps me at it. And, to be perfectly honest, when whatever chore, walk, exercise, or pretty much anything that leaves me tired and sweaty results in that HUGE feeling of accomplishment…well, I love that feeling, love it, love it, love it.

GARDENING

             

One would think, or at least I do, that having spent 53 years in this house, with at least half, probably more, of those years spent gardening, I would have a garden worthy of note. Not so, although my garden has gone through many iterations during all those years.

For at least a decade or more, I had a fenced off portion in the back yard that was my vegetable garden. I planted all sorts of stuff, but my biggest success were the green beans. I always had at three if not four teepees and harvested so much I ended up canning them every year. Not much luck with green onions or radishes, but lettuce did well. Squash and peas did well and I provided so much zucchini people took to avoiding me. I gave up this garden once the boys got older and no one wanted to help with the weeding and upkeep.

This year, though, I think my garden has been the worst in history. Even the garden I had while undergoing breast cancer treatment and John yelling every time he caught me mucking about in the dirt was better. The weather was a big factor because it rained for months with little warm sun and it was cold besides. I’m a fair-weather gardener and didn’t actually get out there to do much until at least June…months behind my usual schedule.

Last fall I dug up all my dahlias and stored them for the winter. I hadn’t done this before because the garage was stuffed full of John’s treasures. Now it’s just mine and boxes filled with shredded paper fit perfectly on half the work bench. Amazingly, the tubers survived the entire winter, but not necessarily the spring. I did finally get a bunch of them planted, but it was way later than it should have been. Some of them have yet to bloom and the ones that are blooming are fairly scrawny. I don’t think I’ll have a huge bouquet by the time it’s necessary to cut them back for the winter. Very disappointing.

In the past, I’ve just left the dahlia tubers in the ground and if I lost some, ah well. Those that survived, and most did, I would dig up in the spring and separate if the clump of tubers had grown too big. That always worked very satisfactorily, and that’s what I plan to do in the future.

In the spring of 2021, I had three huge fuchsia baskets which I took apart and planted into five baskets. They grew and were lovely. Last fall, I trimmed them back and put them into the shed for wintering over. This is what I had done with previous fuchsia baskets. It was either the cold snap in December (per a woman at Swanson’s Nursery) or me not making sure the soil remained damp, but I lost all five baskets. By mid-June, it was obvious there would be no new growth, so I emptied all the baskets and stored them away. The spring of 2023, I’ll make sure I go to Flowerworld or watch for Fred Meyer’s fuchsia planting weekend, buy small starts and begin anew.

I also lost the two begonia baskets I had cultivated for a couple of years. With them, I think it was the cold snap rather than lack of moisture that did them in. So, no hanging planters to beautify my deck or the front of the house.

The complaining or gardening bad luck continued with my tomatoes, zucchini and lemon cucumbers. For the first time in forever, my tomato plants look diseased or sad due to lack of or too much water, fertilizer or who knows what. Yes, I am getting enough tomatoes to share with family and friends, but not the bounty of years past. Plus, as I said, the plants themselves do not look happy. I had three zucchini plants and got three zucchinis before whatever happens that make the tiny zucchini rot took over. I finally chopped them back to bare dirt. The three lemon cucumber plants are now producing two cukes, but I think that will be it.

The plants that really produced were the snow peas. Usually by June, these plants are done and ready to be pulled. This year I got snow peas into July and they were very yummy, cooked or raw. When I pulled them, I sprinkled zinnia seeds all over the dirt and raked them in. By the end of September, I should have a barrel of blooming zinnias.

When it comes to growing veggies in containers, for the last however many years I always say I’m not going to do it again…and then I do. I’ve a feeling there’s some kind of fungus or problem with the dirt, especially for the tomatoes. Once they’re done producing, I’m going to take the pots and empty them first into the squares in the back lawn where I placed stepping stones. I’ll then add some grass seed. Once those areas are full, I’ll move to the side of the house and dump the dirt there.

Once the pots are all empty, I plan to hose them out, allow them to dry and then spray with a bleach solution to, hopefully, make them sterile in case I’d like to add dirt in spring 2023 and grow stuff again.

Meanwhile, I feel like the gardening I’m doing now is in preparation for a great garden next year. I’ve begun cleaning out flowerbeds and am about a quarter of the way around the back garden. I’m going to see about adding fertilizer and a product that supposed to prevent seeds from germinating without affecting established plants. This, of course, will be in areas where I don’t plan to drop seeds. It’s also allowing me time to yank out plants that have suddenly decided to take over not only their assigned area, but areas that other plants are using.

It always amazes me how a small plant or two can become so HUGE over time. It also amazes me how a plant I thought was yanked and gone for good will suddenly appear after more than a year or two. I eliminated all the loosetrife several years ago, but it popped up in two separate places this year. The same with St. John’s Wort. I planted one of those more than a decade ago, didn’t like it, dug it out and sent it away. Since then and even this year, I come across small plants that must be growing from seeds.

There were white calla lilies in the back yard when we moved in. I tried very hard to make them go away, but it took building a deck over the original patch to eliminate them there. Stupidly, I planted some in a couple of other places and now, I have at least three patches I keep digging up that keep returning. In the front flowerbed, Thor ran a garden tiller through, and it cut up bluebell, calla lily bulbs and lily-of-the-valley plants which I’ve been fighting ever since. They continue to come up and spread and I continue to hack and remove.

I don’t know how long ago I purchased a hummingbird vine via a catalog. The plant arrived and I remember wondering how long it would be before the hummers were able to use it. It grows up one section of the back fence and this year it was stunning. A huge mound of green with lots of vines that ended in red-orange tube like flowers. The hummers were very happy. Unfortunately, now that it’s really established, it thinks it should send runners into the flowerbed and even into the lawn. I keep cutting those back, but I fear it’s going to be another ongoing battle.

All-in-all, I’m happy with my garden and seriously hope I can maintain the work I’ve been doing. If so, I should have lots of photos next year to share. Now, enough dancing on the keys…I need to go dance, i.e., work in the garden.