HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

Today is Mother's Day and the little girl inside me wants her mommy. She'd like to snuggle up close for hugs and stories. She'd like to sit on the floor while mommy brushes her hair. She'd like to share a beer and talk about daddy whom she misses as well. While my boys celebrate me and my motherhood; and while I'm grateful to have children and grandchildren, today would be a truly happy day if my mother and grandmother could be present.

Somehow I never expected to become the eldest female in the family...matriarch is a word for someone far older than me. Somehow, I just expected my grandmother and mother to physically remain in my life forever, even knowing that’s not possible. My grandmother left us 40 years ago this coming December and mom joined her and daddy 22 years ago. By now, I should be accustomed to not wishing them Happy Mother's Day, but as I reflect on how they shaped my life, I only miss them more. I especially regret the opportunity to sit back and listen to the stories they’d tell me of their own lives. And, I’d apologize for not taking that time when it was readily available.

Grandma was there at my birth and continued to be a part of my life on a daily basis until I was 12 years old. Then, one day, she climbed on a plane and went to California to live with one of her sons. I have many wonderful memories of her during my first 12 years. She returned to Seattle after her sons in California passed away. By this time, I was grown up with a child of my own, but hadn't matured enough to realize how some things will matter later on and how sad I'd be that I didn't realize that then.

Grandma lived in senior housing just across the valley from my house. I could almost see where she lived. My mom and dad looked after her, taking her to the doctor, grocery shopping, out and about on other errands and transporting her to the various family functions and holidays. I helped with this when asked, but failed to take advantage of what my grandma wanted to and could give me. Instead, her stories of life in Tennessee as a child, a woman married to a man more than 40 years older than her, hardscrabble farming, raising five of her own children and 11 from the two previous wives (who both died) annoyed me because she repeated herself so often. Now, were she here and able to talk about how she never went home to visit her own family because 50 miles was too far to go, I would have a multitude of questions. When she began to repeat a story, I’d get her to enlarge on it. Unfortunately, my desire to know more is more than 40 years too late. I do so regret I didn’t have the patience, maturity and enough love to take advantage of what she offered with every visit and every phone call.

My impatience and lack of understanding also affected my relationship with my mother. I know a little bit, but not much. She hated being the only girl in a family of boys, hated doing the girl stuff when she wanted to go swimming in the river with her brothers. I know when her father became bed-ridden and she had to help with him as she had with her baby brother that she hated both him and the care he required.

It also had to have been hard to return to the coves of Tennessee with a bun in the oven even though apparently no one questioned the ring on her finger or the story of a dead spouse in World War II. Today, I would ask her about how frightened she had to have been, how she dealt with that, how she thought she would be able to raise me on her own. Plus, now that I’ve found my biological father’s family, I have so many questions about him, their relationship, his family, how they fell in love, how she felt when she knew she was pregnant and he was married…surely, it would have been a conversation that would                                                                                                                                                        now mean so much to me.

Mom never talked about much growing up, her years in Tennessee or her pregnancy. It was John who pointed out that whenever Grandma began talking about the times back then, Mom got up and left the room. Today, I'd follow her and ask questions about why she found this so painful. I'd coax her to take a trip with me to Tennessee both to visit the places she knew as well as to reap the stories she would share about those times. And, I’d want to know about her pregnancy and my birth…the real stories, not the ones she made up.

I’ve been back to Tennessee a number of times to visit my mother’s and biological father’s families. On one of those visits, I drove to Nashville, checked into the hotel and then walked to the Ryman Auditorium. I asked for the best ticket available for the Grand Ole Opry the following night. I didn’t care how much it would cost, and amazingly it was only $50. I did this in honor of my mom and grandma. I grew up listening to, and eventually watching on TV, the Grand Ole Opry with the two of them.

As I sat in the audience, I felt as though both women were close by. None of the performers that night were ones I recognized from the past. All were fairly young and new, but I enjoyed the music and comradery of them and the audience. Again, I would have had so many questions had we been able to attend together. When I left the Ryman, I felt both uplifted because I had been there, but also saddened because it was an experience Mom and Grandma would have relished and enjoyed far far more than me.

It's too late for me to revisit the past with my grandma and my mom. I’ve come to realize that writing this blog isn’t really about being about a widow. Instead, it’s short stories about my life before and after becoming a widow. With that realization, I like to think I’m providing answers and information to my sons and grandchildren should they, and as most children do, fail to ask enough questions before I join those who went before me. Some of these stories may be a single paragraph (not likely since I seem to be both verbose and have diarrhea of the fingers) while others may run on for pages.

I guess you could say this is my personal legacy. A legacy that would be much more informative had I the patience and foresight to realize that Mom’s and Grandma’s stories would become so very desirable, but sadly unavailable. Perhaps when they reach my age, they’ll be grateful I chose to take the time to make this record. Maybe they’ll be able to better picture me, Mom and Grandma…that’s my hope.

Happy Mother's Day to the women who came before me. Thank you for the gift of life, strength, determination, love and memories...memories that could be more complete but which I cherish nonetheless. Happy Mother’s Day to the wonderful women my sons married…they’ve both added so much to my life with their presence, support and especially, the gift of grandchildren.

THE FOURTH LEFT

What a really good week I had, until Thursday night or early Friday morning. I couldn’t get to sleep, my legs cramped and it made me so cranky. Then, Friday morning when I woke up, I felt more like 94 than 74. I didn’t go for my walk and just stayed on the couch with the doggies for a couple of hours.

All week long, I felt young and vibrant. I worked on many different projects and achieved much success. As I said in previous posts, the Fourth was definitely with me. So, what happened? That’s what I’d like to know. How can I feel so good, and in a matter of hours go to feeling so bad. Even now, typing this Friday afternoon, I feel as though I should just stop and go take a nap.

I am a great proponent of CHOOSING how I feel, but apparently my body sometimes rules over my mind and my choice. When I woke up this morning, every single joint in my body hurt, the thumb and first two fingers of my left hand were numb and fizzy (still are), and I just wanted to go back to bed and stay there.

Fortunately, or unfortunately as the case may be, I have the doggies and they have to go out to do their business. They also want loves and pets and their brekkies (breakfast). So, there’s no returning to bed. In between their trips out outside, one for #1, and the second for #2, I posted my blog announcement for the day. Then, I made myself a latte and planted myself on the couch and they planted themselves on me.

Eventually, I got up, and the process of doing that emphasized the feeling of being 94. I chose to move, get some breakfast for myself and another latte. Not too long after that, I began to feel more normal, although still very tired. I decided I’d just relax and read my book and maybe write a post for my blog. First, I needed to check my email because I’d emailed my doctor again about another problem.

I didn’t get a response yesterday, so figured I wouldn’t get one until Tuesday. I thought she was only working on Tuesday and Thursday, but apparently, I had that wrong. There was a response in my email and she wanted me to go in and give blood for some laboratory work. This is the work that was supposed to get done the middle of March for my appointment with her the end of March. That didn’t happen and I’ve been rather anxious about some of the symptoms I’ve had that I hoped to discuss with her then. My fingers are crossed (okay my toes or I couldn’t type) the lab work will provide some relevant information.

Driving to capital hill was bittersweet. It’s only the second time I’ve been there since John died last August. Last year at this time, it was almost a weekly trip and I wish I had made them more of an adventure than they actually were. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t nasty or pissy or difficult, but we probably could have had more in the way of conversations. When I arrived at Kaiser, I realized I’d forgotten my purse. Yes, I had my mask, my water and my keys, but my purse was still in the closet at home. Guess I still wasn’t feeling completely normal when I left home.

After whatever appointment John had, we’d go to breakfast. Usually, it was Voula’s which is just up the road from where we live. Voula’s restaurant is owned by a Greek woman and she has family members who own a couple of other restaurants in the area as well. John got to know the family when he used to join his brother-in-law and fellow Lions at Floanna’s on Lake City Way. He and a few others even assisted the family’s mother in a move from Queen Anne. So, it was kinda like having an extended family.

Voula was always happy to see us as was her niece and one of the other servers we got to know fairly well. She always took the time to talk to us, and we knew we’d become family in 2018, when she gifted us at Christmas with her homemade baklava and other baked Greek treats.

After giving my blood, I drove home (carefully) and picked up my purse so I could go to the grocery store. I checked the window at Voula’s to see if her open sign was on. It was. I’m going to have to make an order on-line in support of this restaurant on behalf of John and myself. She makes a yummy hamburger dip.

I guess the whole point of this post is the fact that in the space of a few hours I can go from feeling as though I’ve got the world by the tail, only to discover the world is wagging me by the tail. I think I need to pay a bit more attention to myself and my work program. Rather than go all out for several days and end up feeling like this, I think I need to remind myself over and over that I’ve done enough for now. It’s not like I’ve a deadline to meet.

The problem is, I think, that it feels so goooooooooooood to accomplish a project or make a dent in a big project (garage), that I keep going to achieve that feeling. I think I need to reward myself for more baby steps and less giant ones so that it’s definitely my mind that’s making my choices rather than my body insisting it’s had enough for now. I’m going to work on that.

OH WHAT A CRAP-FEST

If you’ve read previous posts, you know how annoyed I get from time to time about John and the crap-fest he left behind for me to deal with. It was Wednesday afternoon when I began to write this. My plan was to spend a couple more hours out in the garage sorting through crap on top of the time I already invested. Just to give you an idea of what I’m dealing with, I’m including some photos as it looks before I go out there to continue organizing.

Prior to my friend Dave coming down to take home those boxes of drawers full of screws, etc., mentioned in a previous post you couldn’t see the window. In addition, the workbench in front of the window was piled high with stuff. I know you’re dying to know what I found in that pile. How about a bunch of sparkplugs…I’m wondering if they’re the ones that came out of the ’57 Chevy pickup when AJ was 16. I also found a wide variety of screws, nuts, bolts, miscellaneous carpentry stuff and other things I have no idea about.

I also found I don’t know how many sets of socket wrenches. I put them all together in a tray that’s now in front of the window. I found lots of screwdrivers that are now housed together, a seriously broken hammer, a good hammer and a whole bunch of electric cords. I wound up the cords and cinched them together with zip-ties I put all the extension cords I could find in one box and it’s on a shelf now.

As I found stuff in boxes or just loose, I put them into a box of miscellaneous stuff destined for either Goodwill or a garage sale. In one of the photos, you’ll see a green cabinet with a bunch of drawers. Today I’ll finish emptying those drawers and adding to the pile of plumbing, electrical, carpentry, etc., materials.

Yesterday when I began on the green cabinet, I became aware once again of John’s passive-aggressiveness. A long time ago, I wanted new cabinets in the kitchen. Instead, John had a nephew of a friend who was in the painting business take the doors and paint them. I did get to pick the color. I also wanted new hinges and, especially pulls. I got neither, but in that green cabinet were more than enough pulls to replace all the ones in the kitchen. I may even have found some hinges, but I’m not sure. The kicker here is John preferred and installed a certain type of doorknobs and switch plates…these pulls would have matched perfectly.

It's now Thursday and I didn’t get a thing done yesterday as planned. Well, I did actually, but that was just moving stuff around so the men who come to mow and edge my lawn could get the lawnmower through the garage. So, today, while Haley is behind the fence and in the chicken-yard eliminating overgrowth of the wild stuff in the greenbelt that loves to invade my garden I’ll continue sorting and sifting.

By Saturday, I want to have the various boxes and containers on the table in the middle of the garage. My sons are coming over to cut up the old hot tub and remove it from the deck. I’m hoping they’ll have a few minutes to look through the crap on the table when they finish the hot tub and decide if it should be saved for my garage sale, taken to Goodwill, or the most likely choice put in a recycle or garbage bin. Maybe there’ll even be enough room for them to pull down a few boxes from the attic while they’re here.

On the other hand, I still have to go through the one small red tool chest, the filing cabinet, the larger red tool chest. There’s no order to whatever is in those containers. I glanced at the contents last fall and there’s no rhyme or reason as to the contents. I think John just opened any old drawer or cupboard and put whatever he had in his hand in there. Dave joked about wanting to borrow a tool and how John would search hither, thither and yon, and occasionally come up with whatever he wanted to borrow.

Since I’m such an organized person, I find it really hard to understand how and why John couldn’t have put some sort of thought into a system so that everything had a place. I have a friend whose husband passed away some time ago. When she began to sort through all the tools, she couldn’t believe how many hammers, screw drivers, etc., he had. She said she thought that every time he needed a hammer, he couldn’t remember or find where he’d left the hammer he used last. So, he took a trip to the hardware store and bought a new one. 

There are buckets and boxes out there as you can see from the photos. I have no idea what’s in them, so my sorting and sifting will continue for some time I think. I just wish I had a better understanding of what might have some value and what doesn’t. Maybe on Saturday I’ll get a better idea of that when the boys look at what’s on the table. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and they’ll want to cart off various tools, screws, nails, whatever. If not, I’ll at least get some direction for my future days in the garage. 

These last two photos are some of what's overhead in the rafters...oh boy, I can barely wait. 

THE FOURTH WAS WITH ME

The Fourth was definitely with me on Monday. I walked an hour later than usual, but managed the walk just fine without too much calf pain. Then, I began to plant the tomatoes and squash I purchased at Swanson’s last Friday.

          In the past, I have had four tomato pots on my back deck. This year, since my driveway is completely empty except for my car, I decided to move the pots out there. I purchased four different tomato plants and buried them as far up the stalk as I could. Then, I installed the metal cages I made and wrapped them with plastic.

          A couple of years ago, I asked John to stop by the dry cleaners and see if they would either sell him or give him four or six of the big plastic covers they put over cleaned clothes. He did and they charged him, but it wasn’t much. What makes me kinda crazy this year is that he had two rolls of plastic in the garage. Maybe he forgot they were there, but I used plastic from one of the rolls and barely made a dent. Why didn’t he suggest I use some of that?

          I was going to clothespin the plastic together, but my walking partner said something about stapling. What a great idea, especially since I could only find four clothespins.  I stapled the plastic together once I got it around the cage. It’s open on top so I can water, and once the temperatures stay above 50 every night, I’ll remove the plastic. Meanwhile, between the asphalt holding heat and the plastic, I should have tomatoes in July.

          In one of the big pots, I planted zucchini squash and in the other pumpkins. Around the edge of those, I planted bush beans in one and snow peas in the other…that’s the one with the green teepee. In another pot, I planted Danish squash and delicata squash in the other.  I should eat well this coming fall.

          There are three empty pots on the left end that don’t have anything in them yet. Later this week, I planted Thai basil and regular basil in the two smaller green ones. The larger reddish one remains empty, but I discovered another large blue pot. I'm going to plant potatoes in that one. 

          I also took the fuchsia out of the tiny greenhouse I put them in after I repotted them. They’re looking good…not as good as the ones I could buy, but those ones have been growing in a greenhouse since last fall. I hung two of them on the deck and haven’t decided where I’ll put the third. The pansies I wintered over in the pot by the front door look great, so I’m not sure if I should replace them with a fuchsia.

          After I finished planting, I moved my car out of the driveway and hosed it down. I always feel so guilty when I do that because there are places and people who would be so grateful for the water I am basically sending down the storm drain. All the needles from the spruce tree as well as who knows what else ended up at the end of the driveway in a big pile. When they redid the street a few years ago, they screwed up at the end of my driveway. They left a little depression that fills with water right by the mailbox. Once that water drained away, I scooped up all the spruce needles and debris and put it into the yard waste can.

          On Tuesday, I went to Fred Meyer because I needed a couple of those cocoanut liners for my hanging tomato baskets. I believe I posted yesterday that I bought the entire hanging baskets because they were cheaper then just the liners. I also wanted to get some quick set cement, but the bags were too heavy. Haley and I can go out for one of those when we go for lunch today. I need the cement to create a piece of glass and metal yard art.

Quite some time ago (decade plus) there was a piece of art that was donated to Jungle Party that no one liked or purchased. I was fortunate to be the recipient of it for free. I bought a short round column and placed the artwork on it in my garden. Over time, the white sculpture part deteriorated to the point it separated into two pieces. I saved the metal leaves(?) and glass flowers(?). Now, I’d like to position them in concrete in a way that’s lovely and pleasing. I may even include some of my own glass flowers if there’s room. Then, it can return to the short white column in the garden.

As I indicated above, my granddaughter Haley is going to work for me today. I know exactly what I want done and it should make a huge difference in the chicken yard. We can make a pile of stuff destined for the dump. I'm hoping my Mother's Day present will be a couple of hours from my boys on Saturday. I'd like them to cut up the hot tub and look at the various piles of stuff I've sorted in the garage. Then I'll have Haley come back with her truck...unless her dad has it on Saturday...and load it up for the dump. 

I cannot remember how many decades ago John purchased the hot tub. What a fiasco. It was supposed to come with a free gazebo. We never got the gazebo, but apparently we were lucky to get the hot tub and cover before the company went out of business. Lots of purchasers were left with nothing.

John used the hot tub faithfully because it helped a lot with all his aches and pains. I didn’t get in it often for a couple of reasons. First, I didn’t like going to bed smelling like chlorine, so I’d have to take a shower. Who wants to take a shower when your muscles have been turned to mush from the hot water? Secondly, whenever I did get in the hot tub, John thought that was a signal for sex; and perhaps if I had gotten in there every night with him, his expectation would have decreased. Still, we had some wonderful times when this derelict amenity was much newer and usable.

The hot tub developed some problems over time, but son AJ was always able to rectify them. The last time AJ did that, the hot tub sat on the deck and ran every single day and night. Our electric bill went up more than $100 a month, plus John wasn’t using it at all. So, I turned it off. Even then, it took a few months for our bill to return to a reasonable amount.

So, as I said in the beginning, the Fourth was with me on Monday, not to mention the remainder of this week so far. I have high hopes it sticks around permanently.  I could certainly get used to days like the ones I've been having. But, it's really up to me isn't it...I need to CHOOSE to have days where the Fourth is always with me...and, Cinco de Mayo disappointment notwithstanding, it's been a GREAT week so far. 

CINCO DE MAYO -- NOT

         Well, I hope your Cinco de Mayo went much better than mine. I went on line early in the day to place my order at Todo Mexico. My mouse froze up while I was looking at the menu. I couldn’t find a way to unfreeze the damn thing. I called a neighbor and ended up just turning the computer off per his advice. Voila, when I turned it back on, the mouse worked.

          Rather than return to the menu and place my order, I went about my day. It was a busy one. I had to go to Fred Meyer to get a couple of those cocoanut basket liners. Amazingly, it was cheaper to buy two whole new baskets ($4.99 each), as opposed to purchasing just the liners.

          Back home I returned to working in the garage and sorting through piles of crap. It’s coming alone, though, even if it doesn’t look that way. I’ve almost completely cleaned out this big green cabinet that has 36 drawers. I can’t believe some of the stuff I’m finding in there.

          It got so hot in the garage I stopped and read for a while in the cool of the house. Then, since I knew it was supposed to rain today, I got busy planting the remaining plants I purchased last Friday.

          Suddenly, it’s going on 6:00 pm and I’m starving. I went back to the computer to order my Cinco de Mayo dinner. They weren’t answering the phone, but the listing said Todo Mexico was open. So, I got in the car, figuring I’d place my order and wait in my car. Well, the parking lot was empty and the restaurant was closed.

          I’m already out in my car, so I drove to Azteca in Mountlake Terrace. I couldn’t believe the crowd of people standing around outside. I rolled my window down and talked with a young man who said they’d ordered on-line and had been told 15 minutes and they’d been there for 20. There was a big sign with the phone number. I called the number and no answer.

          On the way back home, I stopped by Las Espuelas by the grocery store I patronize. Again, a hoard of people waiting all around this restaurant as well. My next choice would have been Taco Bell in Kenmore, but I gave up and drove home.

          Rather than those yummy cheesy enchiladas I’d so looked forward to eating, I celebrated Cinco de Mayo with a packet of Chinese BBQ pork, half an avocado, and some cottage cheese with blueberries…with my tot of gin.

          I sincerely hope you were able to acquire or make whatever you planned on for Cinco de Mayo. As for me, I’ll just have to look forward to the next one and hope I can plan ahead a bit better. Actually, I’m really really really hoping I can make a reservation for myself and my friends for the next one.

CINCO DE MAYO

         Here we are, May 5^th, Cinco de Mayo. I was seriously hoping a bunch of us could get together and patronize a Mexican restaurant to celebrate the end of shelter-in-place and our ability to once again eat out. Well, that’s not going to happen for any of us is it?

          If any of us do decide to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, it will be via take out or delivery and either alone or with our partners/family. For me, it will be alone. As I write this, I am seriously thinking about ordering either fajitas or cheese enchiladas for pick up. I don’t have any tequila, but that’s okay because I can either drink tequila or eat Mexican food, but the combination doesn’t agree with me at all. If I’m going to enjoy both of them, I have to indulge at separate times.

          At this point, I don’t know if I’ll order from Todo Mexico up the street or Azteca, but it would be one of the two since they are my favorites. Thinking about Mexican food made me remember something that happened a very long time ago. Another great memory.

          There used to be a Mexican restaurant on Aurora just west of Echo Lake. It was called Viva Mexico and John and I and the boys were frequent visitors there. They made the very best cheese enchiladas I’ve ever had. We went there one evening for dinner. At that point in time tequila and Mexican food went well together for me. I ordered a margarita and the waiter asked if I wanted the grande. Thus, began an evening which we laughed about for a long time.

          When my drink arrived, it was the size of a fishbowl. I’d never ordered a grande before, so had no idea about the size. Immediately, John and my wonderful sons began to caution me about drinking the whole thing, i.e.,

          “Mom, you’re not going to drink that whole thing are you?”

          “Please don’t drink the whole thing, Mom.”

          “Honey, you’re going to be so sorry if you drink all that alcohol.”

          To make matters even better, they didn’t use tiny voices and where we were sitting, we were surrounded by other diners. Those diners looked over at us and you could almost see them thinking, if not saying,

          “Such a nice-looking family. Too bad the mom’s a drunk. “

          “Oh, that poor family. The mom must have a drinking problem.”

          I’m sure you’ve gotten the idea by now. Well, I’ve never been a huge drinker, but John and the boys really annoyed the heck out of me, so I was determined to down the entire fishbowl, and maybe even lick the bottom. So, I did.

          Whoa, was I drunk or what? I was barely able to get up and walk out of that restaurant. Back home, I went to bed and went to sleep…okay, passed out.

          It was probably a couple of hours later. John had come to bed and AJ, was in the doorway, telling me Pam was on the phone.

          “Tell her I’ll call her back in the morning,” I mumbled.

          John shook me and said, “Paula, it’s Pam, she has to go to the hospital to have the baby.”

          Well, that did wake me up. I took the phone and told her I’d be right there. Pam and her husband Walt were friends, and I’d agreed to babysit Walt’s daughter if she was visiting the weekend they had to go to the hospital. I got up, got dressed and headed for their house in Kenmore.

          Kenmore isn’t all that far from Lake Forest Park, in fact, they are adjacent in some places. I was still very drunk. I rolled the windows down in my car and drove very very carefully through Lake Forest Park. My little city had a reputation for handing out traffic tickets. Ha, they wouldn’t have given me a ticket if they’d stopped me, they’d have hauled me off to the pokey with a DUI. I made it okay though and didn’t get stopped.

          At Pam’s, I went back to sleep…okay passed out again…on their couch after they left for the hospital. Their daughter was born that upcoming afternoon. I was stone cold sober by then, and didn’t even have a hangover. But I wonder if that fishbowl-sized margarita is why I can now not eat Mexican food and drink tequila together.

          Instead of tequila, once I’ve picked up my dinner, I’ll raise my tot of gin and wish you all a very happy Cinco de Mayo…and hope that 2021 will allow us to exchange that greeting face-to-face. And, if we can, maybe I’ll throw caution to the wind and order another fishbowl…as long as I’m not the designated driver.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

         Today is Star Wars Day. I hadn’t really thought about it until this morning. It may even be too late now that the weather is getting so much better and things are growing like weeds, especially the weeds, out in the garden. This would be the perfect time to binge watch all the Star Wars movies in their correct order.

          Is there a correct order though? Should I watch them as they were issued? Should I watch them by how they are named, i.e., begin with I and go through what is it VI or VIII? And, what about all the other Star Wars programs that were issued for TV?

          Sheesh, it sounds like a job just deciding how to go about watching all of them. I could do it though. I could watch one each evening and still get out in the sunshine during the day. I’ll let you know how it goes.

          Meanwhile, May the Fourth Be With You…today and always.