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.

LABOR DAY

 

          It’s Labor Day weekend and instead of a big barbeque with family, friends and neighbors, it’s just me, myself and I, and we’re not sure if we’ll barbeque. Actually, it’s been a number of years since a big event was held at this Karlberg household, but the memories of those past remain, some of them strongly.

          The memories include many who couldn’t join me today even if invited because they are no longer here. This list would, without doubt, begin with John, but there are so many others and their faces/smiles/laughter and love for me, for each other, and for the holiday event shine brightly in my mind. In that way, I suppose they continue to live, but, still, I miss them and would welcome any one, or all of them, through my front door in less than a heartbeat.

Those memories also include the laughter of children as they ran, played, ate and drank as well as the tears that came from being too tired or having had too much sugar. The tears never lasted long and they were soon back in the game having been comforted by mommy or daddy. Today, those children are grown and some even have grown children of their own. I feel blessed to have watched them grow up and become the individuals they are today.

When it comes to guests, there’s one in particular that has stood the test of time and this may be/sound cruel, but it’s the first memory that really pops. I’m sure if I were to say something to my sons about the guest who was rather large and wore extremely short shorts and panties, they’d know immediately exactly to whom I was referring. When she leaned over the food table to fill her plate (more than once), the sight was simultaneously riveting and appalling. Yes, we were quite shameless in our private critiques and laughter. It makes me a bit sad now to think of her and how she must have felt about herself to appear in such attire.

          And speaking of the food table, let’s not forget the food, some of which I’ll probably never have again. Yes, I could still barbeque a burger, hot dog or brat, but to turn on the grill for just one of those seems a huge waste. And, yes, I’ll probably have a Double-D hot dog today, but I’ll prepare it in my little counter-top oven. It’s not quite as good, but it’s still a “hot” hotdog. I remember all the pasta and potato salads, baked beans, chips and dips; and yes, I’ve had some of each this summer, but none tasted quite as good as I remember them from previous events here. Besides, it’s difficult to make any of these just for one person without sending more than I’d want to waste to the compost bin.

I’d love to have a Jello salad but not the one made with lime and shredded vegetables. The one I’m thinking of was called a White Cap Salad. You combined packages of lime and lemon Jello with half that mixture setting up in the bottom of a container. Then you whipped cream with some sugar, added cream cheese and minced pineapple. You spread this mixture over the bottom layer, stirred up the remaining Jello that hasn’t quite set up in the bowl and poured that over the mixture. Using a fork, you’d pull some of the cream mixture up through the top making white caps. So full of sugar and fat, but oh so good. My mouth waters just typing this out.

The desserts were always yummy too. I used to make a chocolate cream cheese cake. I still have the recipe and it tasted like one of those chocolate fudgesicles you’d get as a kid. Again, lots of fat and sugar, but I certainly didn’t worry about those ingredients in my diet back then. Guests would bring other desserts and we’d enjoy those too.

As for this Labor Day weekend, I’ve kept myself busy. It was National Cinema Day on Saturday with tickets at $3.00. I went to see Bullet Train which was horribly violent but also hysterical. Brat Pitt was terrific. Since I hadn’t seen the last Thor movie, I saw that as well. It was also fairly funny and the music, three songs by Guns n’ Roses, sent me back to the days when it blared from AJ’s room. I enjoyed that movie too.

Sunday was spent grocery shopping, getting a bag of dirt from Sky Nursery so I can finish transplanting some indoor plants, a visit with Will the paint guy at Home Depot for a clear sealant for the remainder of the deck that’s under cover plus a scraper for the north side of the house and paint brushes. The day ended with a couple glasses of wine up at the neighbors, followed by more episodes of Big Sky.

Today is the actual Labor Day. I saw a funny post on Facebook about being sure to thank the mothers who LABORED to bring children into the world. While that’s not the kind of labor being celebrated today, there’s no reason not to add it to the list of things for which to be thankful. AJ is coming to labor for me and cut a few things down or off. I did try to do it on my own, but my saw broke. He shouldn’t have to labor too terribly long and can then return to his holiday. A quick trip to Snohomish to say farewell to honorary grandson Kamron who is moving to Texas on Tuesday will finish off this holiday. Well, okay, additional episodes of Big Sky watched from my bed will be the actual finish.

I am very thankful to have so many mental snapshots of people who were woven into the tapestry of my life during previous Labor Day weekends as well as the ones who touched on it this weekend. They make me smile, bring a tear or two, provide comfort and make me glad I’m still alive to initiate new memories and enjoy those of Labor Days past.

THE TREES/SHRUBS OF MY LIFE

 

          As most of us know, when developers move into an area, the first things to disappear are the trees. I think that was pretty much the case with my little area when it was developed and my house built. The previous owners had attempted to rectify the lack of trees. During their year’s residence, they planted five Japanese plum and two Japanese cherry trees plus three apple trees, one grafted cherry tree that provided three different kinds of cherries (when the birds didn’t get there first), plus the Christmas tree from their last Christmas here.

I don’t know if they planted the six popular trees along the back fence, but I don’t think so. They were fairly tall when we moved in. Every time someone came into our back yard, they’d exclaim, “You need to get rid of those before one falls on your house.” So, we did and I now wonder if they would have ever fallen because the majority of other popular trees in the area are still standing. I loved the way the popular leaves littered my back yard in the fall.

Over time, the two Japanese cherry trees were the first to go. One Japanese plum followed to make room for the child slide off the deck. Another plum was overwhelmed by Grandma Ebba’s grape vine and the Chinese wisteria…both of which have now grown into the greenbelt behind the fence. The Christmas tree remains at the end of the driveway.

          When AJ was a baby and I was a stay-at-home wife/mother, I went out one morning to hang a fresh wash on the line. When I opened the back door, the largest apple tree of the three, had fallen over due to an over abundance of small apples. It’s branches prevented me from leaving the garage. When John came home from work, he and a neighbor used a chain-fall to hoist it back into place. Three four-by-four posts held it in place for many years while it continued to provide the best apples I think I’ve ever had. This tree survives to this day although I haven’t had any apples for years. AJ, Haley and I pruned it down to the stubs a few years ago. Perhaps a mistake because it takes up about one-third of my entire back garden now. The tree expert and his minions will prune it back next winter; and, hopefully, that may kick it into producing fruit again…provided it’s warm enough for the bees show up to do their job

          At some point during the years, the cherry tree died due to whatever tends to infect them. After John’s death, I had the delicious apple tree and the Jonathan apple trees cut down. Their apples, few and far between always had maggots, so why keep them.

          Over the years, I’ve added trees to the garden. The first was a red maple a former friend gave me. It had been planted in a five-gallon bucket by her mother and sat on my friend’s deck forever. I brought it home and planted it at the southwest corner of the property. No internet then, so how was I supposed to know it would become this huge giant that Seattle City Light’s tree pruners took great delight in pruning so that when they were done it was all lop-sided. I understand the importance of keeping tree branches out of the power lines; but really, would it have been that much more difficult to leave it with a pleasing shape?

          This spring I noticed this red maple seemed to be having a problem. I called in the tree experts and was told it was suffering from a fungal infection, probably due to the triple digit hot weather we had in 2021.  I love that tree and it shades almost the entire house so I paid to have it treated and the dead wood cut out. It will get another treatment this fall and my fingers are crossed that when it comes time to leaf out in the spring that it will unfurl nothing but huge happy leaves. If not, the tree folks may be back to cut it completely down. That will make me very sad.

          The second addition was a black walnut tree a neighbor gave me. I couldn’t believe how fast it grew and continued to grow no matter how much I cut it back. I could more than fill up the garden waste container in the spring and then have to do it a time or to more before winter arrived. It was horribly messy and we never used the walnuts, but the squirrels loved it and that included the bark they’d strip off the limbs. I finally had it cut down and the tall stump now supports a beautiful clematis every spring.

          When my mother passed away, I was gifted two trees, both of which I had wanated. The first was a magnolia which provides me with beautiful lilac cup-shaped flowers in the spring. The other was a pink dogwood which hasn’t ever done terribly well, but I keep hoping it will surprise me one spring with a huge cloud of pink blossoms and in the fall with its red cherry-like fruits.

          As I stated in the beginning, my house was only about six years old when we moved in…pretty bare except for the small trees I mentioned above. Besides the trees, I’ve also added some shrubs which I find very pleasing.

          Memory may not be serving me well here and John isn’t available to ask, but I think the double-lilacs in both the front and back gardens came from either his mother’s or grandmother’s yards. They’ve become huge even though over the years I’ve hacked away at them. There’s also a dark single purple lilac in the back which came from John’s sister’s yard. Now they’re so tall, it’s hard for me to reach any of the blossoms and create a bouquet to bring in the house. I love the way they smell and could breathe that fragrance in for days and days.

          Great Auntie Lola gave me a start of her fuchsia bush, again, decades ago. It has remained in the same place since then and returns every spring and delights me with it’s purple-red blossoms and the memories I have of this wonderful woman…the humming birds love it too.

          I already mentioned that John’s grandma gave us the grape vine that grows with abandon no matter how much I hack at it. Besides growing up the trees in the greenbelt, it has almost covered the old chicken coop and has wandered its way down more than half the back fence. It doesn’t provide big grapes, but hundreds of clusters of small purple ones are very tasty.  One year my granddaughter picked buckets of them and I made grape jelly…haven’t done it since. Still, the birds, squirrels and raccoons (I think) love them too.

          At some point John hauled home some raspberry plants because he loved the fruit. His raspberry patch remains and I usually pick enough berries to make a batch of jam for the family. Of course, I had to buy the fruit when John was alive because he’d go out each morning and pick ripe ones for his cereal until the vines stopped producing. The last few years, these plants have made a dedicated effort to move beyond their allotted patch. Again, I hack away only to have them return again and again.

          I wonder if my kids and grandkids will read this post and look about the garden and reflect on the trees that remain when my time to cross over the Rainbow Bridge (or is it only doggies that can go over the Rainbow Bridge?) comes. Hopefully, this little history will bring a smile, or even, the best yet, cause them to take a cutting or dig up a small portion for their own gardens.

WHERE/HOW HAVE I BEEN

Here it is, September 2^nd, the ninth month of the year and it’s hard to believe so much time has passed. Even harder for me to believe is the fact I haven’t written anything in almost all of that time. I just checked this blog and found I’ve only written five posts in 2022, with the last one on April 18^th.

          I have to be honest and tell you I’ve missed writing, but apparently not enough to kick my brain into gear and force my fingers to dance on the keyboard. But, if I’ve missed writing, why haven’t I done it? I have no answer to that question aside from the fact it is much easier to do other stuff, i.e., read other folks’ writing, garden, sleep, watch TV (although I don’t do much of that…books are my preferred procrastination method); really, pretty much anything but sit at the keyboard and create.

          So, I guess I’ll make time to keyboard even if the subject about which I write is boring. That’s a negative thought so I’m going to look at some of the positives I’ve managed to achieve in the last nine months.

          There’s a new UV cover on part of my deck. I found and hired a great handyman who not only removed the old leaky cover, but installed the new one which allows me to be on the deck without being in the sunshine. It’s not that I don’t like sunshine, it’s more the sun doesn’t like me, especially the parts of my skin that have vitiligo. The parts that aren’t dead-white do become quite tan even though I stay out of the sun and use sun screen. I love to lounge in my canvas swing, read, watch the birds in the garden and simply enjoy the peace and quiet of sunny days.

          The deck, both covered and uncovered needed to be pressure-washed and sealed/stained. I pressure-washed the entire thing and researched what would be the best product with which to paint/stain it. It also meant I needed to have the rocks in my adjacent water feature removed so I could clean the little pond. My grandson, Xander removed the rocks for me (with some assistance from his big sister, Arayli). Once clean, I returned the rocks and once again, there is the sound of clear water trickling into the little pond that show-cases beautiful stones.

          Once I completed the stain/paint research, I went to one of the big box hardware stores and requested the product I’d chosen only to be told, “I’ve never heard of that.” I brought it up on my phone, and was told, “Just because it appears on the web site doesn’t mean we carry it.” Long story short, I ended up purchasing a product that was the color indicated on the product they didn’t carry and sand which I would toss onto the wet stain. The color was called, Shadow Mist and looked fairly grey on the screen.

          I applied two coats, one of them on the evening of the hottest day of the year and used a tea strainer to shake the sand on the wet stain. I was astonished at the color. With the application of the sand which didn’t leave a smooth appearance, more of a blotchy one, the color looked like that on the screen. For the most part, however, it was WHITE. To quote my eldest granddaughter when she first saw it, “Fuck, Nana, I’m blind.” It took some time, but I finally finished both sections of the deck. Unfortunately, since it’s so WHITE, it shows every single piece of debris/dirt. I’ll probably wash away all the sand hosing it off and it will still be slicker than snot in the winter. That was why I went to all this trouble…the slickiness…don’t want to fall and break something. Ah well, live and learn and a huge pat on the back to me, myself and I.  

          The part of the deck that is under cover doesn’t get wet, so I haven’t done anything to it. I’m thinking perhaps I’ll get a clear sealant for it so the wood shows through. But it’s September and I’m not sure if I can manage to get it done while the weather remains nice. I’d also like to paint the surrounding wood. It hasn’t been painted since 1989 when John gussied up the deck for AJ’s graduation party. Since it’s held up so well, I wish I knew the product he used. Another maybe project for maybe next year.

          My handyman also removed the lean-to that has been on the north side of the house forever…probably since a year or so after we bought the house in 1969. I know that because the original color of the house was light green and it’s been more of a dark or forest green since the first time it was painted. Removal of this lean-to revealed a section that was light green and has signaled more work for me.

          Just recently I pressure-washed that side of the house. Oh. My. Goodness. It was a very nasty job. It didn’t take long, but the water pressure not only removed the moss and dirt, but some of the paint. I was a mess from head to toe and soaking wet by the time I finished. Now, I need to get on a ladder (my kids have forbidden my ladder usage, but too bad) and scrape the areas where the paint came loose but not off. Then, I have to look at the paint my painters left and see if it includes a primer. If not, then I need to prime those areas before I paint. This has to be accomplished this month so bare wood isn’t exposed to winter. Ah, the joys of home ownership.

          Those are my two biggest projects for 2022, and the first of the posts I hope/plan to make in the coming days/months. And, so I’m not writing erotica as I’ve done in the past, but perhaps just being at the keyboard will kickstart those kinds of thoughts…I do miss writing about my erotic fantasies.

          And, writing about erotica, I have to report that I sent an email and synopsis of SHE to several publishers. Eureka, one of them responded and asked for several pages. I was quite happy…no, make that ecstatic…to send those on. This was followed up with an email requesting the entire book, and returned the requested pages already edited as an example of what that company would like. Talk about being excited…whooeeeeee, yep I was indeed. I then asked two friends to wordsmith SHE. They did so and I incorporated their suggestions, as well as my own efforts, into the final work which I then submitted to the editor at the publisher.

          In return, I was asked to complete a Promo Form which had to do with my previous publications, social media, blog, etc. I completed that, pretty much assuring them I’d be willing to do whatever it took to be published and returned it. That was in late June. Just this morning, I received an email from the editor telling me s/he had suffered an eye injury so screen time is limited. S/he indicated I’d hear back in October.

          So, SHE isn’t dead yet. SHE may still become a published book; but, even if SHE doesn’t, I feel extremely talented and happy that my writing, something so close to my heart and imagination, ran the gamut and reached a publisher’s editor’s desk for consideration. Please think positive, cross your fingers, rub Buddha’s belly, light candles, do whatever you do to send me, actually SHE, your positivity…I’m forever grateful for your support and encouragement. Until tomorrow.

HAPPY EASTER

Procrastinating in bed this morning, I thought about the fact it was Easter morning. That led me to think about how Easter has had many different iterations during my 76 years.

          I remember my childhood and how we kids (don’t remember about the parents because I was a kid and didn’t think about them) always got a new Easter outfit. I can remember getting new dresses, shoes and even gloves and bonnets. These were, of course, spring/summer clothing and we weren’t allowed to wear them as soon as they were purchased. The first wearing was to Sunday school and church.

          This led me to think about Sunday school, church, and youth fellowship, or whatever they called it. As a little kid, I loved Sunday school and church. I believed that if I was good, I would be rewarded. As I grew older, I had my first experience with discrimination and the fact that people who attend church and act a particular way when they are there don’t necessarily act that way the other six days of the week…unless there is choir practice or youth fellowship and then each and every one of my compatriots wore a beautiful shining halo.

          I do not have a lot of happy memories when it comes to attending church later on. The kids who went to Sunday school with me were rude and nasty at school because I lived on the wrong side of the railroad tracks (there were no tracks, but Fremont at that time was not the center of the Universe). I finally hated going to Sunday school or having to do anything that included most of these other kids that I stopped.

          Choir was wonderful and I loved singing. I was happy there and no one, including the choirmaster said or did anything that indicated I could not sing. Then, in fifth grade, I got a music teacher who told me I, “couldn’t carry and tune and was tone deaf.” She told me that in front of the entire class and continued to embarrass me by making me come to the front of the class when it was my turn, use the pitch pipe and lead the class in the first song of the day. I quit choir, positive everyone had just been nice, or my horrid singing was masked by the other voices.

          The final straw was when two men from my church, in suits, ties and hats came to my house. I was a mid-teenager then and had pledged to give a certain amount of money to the offering plate each week using the dated envelopes in which I would place my money. Since I had stopped attending, the church hadn’t received my offerings. These men were there to collect. I hadn’t realized I could be held liable if I didn’t give. I didn’t have the money and neither did my parents. It was very embarrassing. I think the only time(s) I ever went back to that church was for a wedding.

          Anyway, back to Easter. We always got an easter basket with candy. Today, I wouldn’t put a single piece of that stuff in my mouth. It was cheap and horrible, but as a kid, I didn’t care. I remember one year my Great Aunt Grace came from
Arizona and gave each of us a fancy Easter basket with premium candy in it (the first time I had expensive/good candy). Mine also included a little china dog whichI still have  all these years later. My mom always made a ham and invited family to join us. I remember those fun times with the extended family fondly.

          When I grew up and married, we usually went to my moms for Easter dinner. We didn’t buy much in the way of candy or anything else. Mom usually got an Easter lily and they always smelled wonderful.

          Once AJ was born, Easter became more fun for us. I remember his first Easter and how my sister brought him a HUGE Easter basket (which he still has) with two baby chicks in it…one was pink and one was blue. AJ was fascinated by them when they were placed on his high chair tray, but seriously what was I going to do with two baby chicks. Problem solved when I gifted them to the next door neighbors who raised, slaughtered and ate them.

          As the years passed, besides Easter baskets with lots of candy, we took to hosting a potluck brunch for family and friends. Those were always so much fun and, weather permitting, included Easter egg hunts. I think the last time I hid eggs outside; they were plastic and I put money in them instead of candy. I also remember the time the kids could not find the last egg. I finally found it months later and John instructed me to very carefully add it to the compost pile because it would most likely smell horrible if cracked in the house.

          After John’s death, I didn’t get a chance to see how Easter would be without him because the pandemic arrived and no one got together for anything. This Easter AJ and Angie are coming to dinner and I’m baking a ham. It won’t be as noisy, there’ll be no egg hunt, but it feels good to have at least two guests. Perhaps next year I can invite Thor and his family or, and this would be great too, invite other family members and friends. Hopefully, they’d be able to attend, but I’ve a feeling the pandemic has changed a lot of things, and a huge brunch might just be one of those things.

          My grandson Xander now has his own cell phone at the age of 7.5, and I may be one of the few people he can call or text. I tried to call him yesterday to wish him a Happy Easter, but he was busy at an Easter egg hunt. He did call me back and told me all about the hunt and how he got the most eggs...25. I asked him if he left any for the other kids and he said there were lots. I also told him with all that candy, the Easter bunny would be bringing him vegetables instead of candy. He promptly told me that wouldn't happen.

         Today, he called I don’t know how many times and figured out how to the video chat option. Using that, he was able to show me his room and how clean and organized it is as well as the Axolotl he got for his birthday last August…it’s much bigger now, but I must admit those front paws seem kinda creepy to me. When doing the video, I asked him if Nana was still pretty or just looked old...he told me old. Guess you shouldn't ask a question if you don't want the honest truth from a kid. Xander also loves to text and I have to laugh because he doesn’t know how to spell his sister’s name…he does it phonetically. If the weather cooperates, I may be taking him and Arayli to the zoo next weekend.

          Anyway, no church or Easter candy for me today, but a good dinner, base touching with family and warmth and sunshine. As I finish this post, I find I am deeply thankful to whatever deity there may be for my health, family, friends, nature’s beauty, and the promise of more days ahead.

          Hope your Easters were happy as well.

4/16/2022

          I was raised with the idea that if you weren’t up and had accomplished something before 8:00 am, then you’d wasted the entire day. I find it amazing that I can still hear my mother and grandmother reciting those words to me whenever I get up late. I know that’s not necessarily true and that the belief has a lot to do with getting farm-like chores done early…I mean, how long can a cow wait to be milked???

          Anyway, Saturday morning, my love for my bed and its accoutrements just could not make me rise up and face the day. I know I woke up a number of times, stretched and snuggled back down in my nice warm bedding. It was actually 10:10 am when I finally pushed the covers back and got myself out of that bed. I tried very hard to ignore my mother’s and grandmother’s voices scolding me for being such a lazybones.

          The new dark shade I purchased and had AJ install really keeps my bedroom dark when the sun comes up. That allows me to ignore the fact the sun is up and I’m not. And, even though my predecessors continued to remind me about how I’d never accomplish the chores I’d decided to do today, I persevered and managed to pretty much complete every thing I’d planned…even taking breaks to read chapters in my latest book on my I-pad.

          Now that it’s just me, myself and I, laundry only gets done every two weeks. I have enough undies, washcloths and other stuff to last me for that entire time. I have to admit I really like not doing laundry every single Saturday. While I miss my doggies, I cannot believe how clean the house is staying without the fur and detritus brought in on the four (or eight when Kaizer was here too) paws each and every time a trip was made to the back yard.

          I did vacuum Saturday, but there wasn’t a lot of stuff to vacuum up. Still, I felt like I’d met one of the day’s goals…I really only clean house every other Saturday as well.

          There will be Key Lime Pie for Easter Dinner on Sunday. I made it late in the afternoon and would have actually had more than a few finger tastes if I hadn’t planned to make something special for Saturday’s dinner. I wanted to be sure to be hungry when it was ready.

          There’s a story behind what I wanted to make for dinner. Decades ago when I worked at the Primate Center at the University of Washington, I almost always brought my lunch, but the hospital cafeteria had two things I absolutely loved. The first was cinnamon rolls, but I didn’t often go there for coffee in the morning unless I went with a friend. The second thing on the menu which always had me putting my lunch in the fridge was fried chicken livers and mushrooms on a piece of toast. I absolutely loved that lunch. And, hopefully, if one of the folks I used to have coffee/lunch with reads this, they’ll let me know they remember too.

          Anyway, I, quite by chance, came across a fairly small container of fresh chicken livers…at $2.10, how could I pass it up. I purchased, brought home and put in the freezer. I took them out Friday night. Late Saturday, I rinsed them in a colander. I washed and cut fresh mushrooms in slices. Then I cut up some onion and garlic before putting flour, salt, and pepper into a bag. Butter was placed in a heated pan, followed by the garlic and onion. While that cooked, I put the mushrooms and chicken livers in the bag with the flour and seasonings. Finally, I added the floured mushrooms and chicken livers to the pan with some more butter.

          That might not sound all that good to you, but I have to admit it certainly tasted like what I remembered that cafeteria cook making all those years ago. It was a very yummy dinner although I wasn’t able to eat the entire pan.  I’ve a feeling I’ll have some leftovers for lunch on either Sunday or Monday, and hope they are just as tasty after being microwaved.

          Tomorrow will be Easter and ham dinner…even though I’m full, the thought of a ham slice between a split roll or biscuit sounds heavenly…not to mention the soup I’ll make with the ham bone.

          You know, I think I like cooking.