Searching for Normal

I shudder every time a broadcaster says we’re all getting used to our NEW normal. There is very little resembling normal these days. Not when:

  • We’re rationing toilet paper as if the little Italian nonna from outside the Tower of Pisa restrooms is handing us our two square limit each trip.
  • My sister, Ann, made us face masks which the guy in the post office said were “plumb cheerful”. The downside is that your glasses can steam up when you wear them and if you stop quickly to avoid a man in the aisle in front of you, your ankles pay the price when your cart-steering husband can’t see the stop.


* Going to the post office was like being in The Soup Nazi episode of Seinfeld. A long line of people six feet apart moving forward to the next x on the floor when the space clears. Step up to the counter and put the packages there then immediately step back until the lone masked postal worker asks you the necessary questions. We were trying to pretend it was a normal year because we even mailed our tax payment!

*We tried to pretend it was the before time by cleaning the pine pollen off the deck and steam cleaning the ceiling and walls to remove the black residue from an exceptionally wet winter. Then we moved the plants from the kitchen outside to their homes in the deck – like we do every year. When you sit out there you can pretend all is right in the world.

*Then came Easter Sunday without sun rise services, Easter egg hunts or choirs joyfully singing “Up from the Grave He Arose” – in truth it looked a lot more like a Good Friday with its dark and stormy weather. Then we did a truly normal thing for April in Tuscaloosa Alabama. We tuned into James Spann the local meteorology legend in time to see him say we should go to our place of safety. Then the lights went out.

That night an EF1 tornado passed two blocks from our house uprooting trees, peeling back roofs and causing havoc. The golf course in our neighborhood lost 250 trees and a lot of fence. Luckily, no one lost their lives here and at our house we only lost a refrigerator full of food that wasn’t good when the power came back on 26 hours later. When we left the house the next day and saw its path, I knew our angels had been working overtime to keep us safe!

I am truly thankful for all the people still working every day to keep stores stocked, fix our carry out food, keep us healthy and safe, grow our food, make the products we need and keep our utilities on – or to restore them. I’m sending you a big fat virtual hug!

So wash your hands, wear your mask, social distance, don’t touch your face and pray unceasingly for a return to true normal where everyone who wants to work can and we can shop for things essential or not from any store we want and eat dinner from real plates in a sit down restaurant across the table from friends!

Normal will find its way back. It simply must!

Find the Joy

I have been depressed about the blasted virus. It isn’t like I had to adjust to working from home – I do that every day. I am used to being here all day with my husband, no adjusting there. I didn’t have to make arrangements for my kids and grandkids who have been freed from their scholarly pursuits for the rest of the year.  My prayer list has been growing exponentially to cover family and friends and family of friends in healthcare, servers and bartenders not needed for carry-out, people who are having to shutter their shops after being deemed non-essential and all those who have been simply told to go home.

But this morning we woke up very early and braved the chilly morning to go stand in the growing line at 6:55 a.m. at Publix, the shopping time exclusively for old farts! There were already twelve shoppers in front of us waiting (a social distancing space apart) for the magic door to open. When it did, everyone made a beeline to the golden aisle and I experienced my first moment of joy of the morning when I found this!

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After a month of a barren paper products aisle we were rewarded!!!!! And there was milk in gallons, hamburger, and eggs. If that wasn’t enough, chocolate ice cream pie was half price!!!!!  And every checkout aisle was open to ensure people weren’t standing close together, they could keep that even after this is all over! Joy washed over me!

I know my prayer list will keep growing and I worry about trying to get along in a world that doesn’t like huggers – since I am a major one! I guess, like Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll think about that tomorrow! For today, I found a little joy in the neighborhood Publix! No fooling! Enjoy!

 

Little Cat Days

Today after nearly six weeks of almost constant rain and grayness, we woke to what my husband called “a strange glow in the sky.” Finally, a day of exquisite sunshine!

It’s a fooler though. The sunshine draws you out so the cold air can smack you in the face and really wake you up!

When we lived in central Illinois, I called these Little Cat Days and the title applies equally today in Alabama. If I were a little cat today, I’d find a nice sunny window seat and stretch out in the sun to lick my paws and wipe my whiskers with them to remove all trace of my bowl of cream. Then I’d raise up on all four paws, arch my back with a little yowl and scratch at the cushions with my clawless feet to make them just right to lie back down again – this time with the other side facing the window – to bask in the sun. Soon, I would be purring like a contented little motor, eyes shut, having – what else – a little sunny cat nap!

A day like this makes you want to soak up all the vitamin D laden sunshine that you can. Enjoy every minute of it!

The New Decade

I was not ready for the new year, much less a new decade. I felt a little heartsick because I have family members battling the ravages of time in far away hospitals and friends who I love so much I consider them my extended family that are experiencing illnesses and loss. I couldn’t seem to shake it, not even when my favorite January centerpiece of camellias and Holly berries was on the kitchen counter.

Then it was time for our trip to Florida. We visited Anna Maria Island for the first (and hopefully, not last) time. We stayed at the Bungalow Beach Resort, a not to be missed Old Florida gem. It helped that this was the view off our back porch less than ten feet away….

But, believe it or not, that wasn’t the best part, although the sound of waves and smell of salt water always lifts my spirits. It was that six out of my nine siblings were there too! My sisters who live farther north than Alabama don’t take much arm twisting to go to Florida in January and our baby brother lives near by with his beautiful wife and two precocious sons.

It was just what I needed. Since we had a beach front bungalow as did sister Lori, we could bebop back and forth and visit. As one of my sisters noted, as long as at least one of us was on the beach, we all could be! Good restaurants were within walking distance and there was a free trolley for further jaunts. Lest I start sounding like the Anna Maria Chamber of Commerce, the most important thing was being together.

Saturday night we descended upon my brother’s house, by invitation from he and his wife, and had a taco party. Whoever said you shouldn’t have too many cooks in the kitchen was simply wrong! I’d say instead that many hands make short work….. and terrific tacos!

I returned home refreshed and with a renewed spirit. Bad things are still happening to the people I love, but somehow my heart is better prepared for them. Seeing the amazing people my siblings have become makes me recognize once again how important family is to the core of my being…and always will be.

We pulled in the driveway to see two daffodils in full bloom almost three weeks early…. that can only do a heart good.

Christmas in the Kitchen

There are lots of Christmas memories that involve food. Tantalizing aromas wafting out of the kitchen and working in the kitchen with my sisters doing what we all had down pat after years of having our assignments for the feast. But memories of Christmas in the kitchen would not be complete without lots of laughter. Some of the most memorable ones involve disasters averted. Here are two.

Mother read somewhere, we never knew where, that the best way to heat brown and serve rolls was in a brown paper sack in the oven to keep them fresh and moist. So…she did that, but apparently skipped a step. Soon smoke was billowing out of the oven. I opened the oven door, wet towel in hand to douse the burning bag. Mother grabbed another towel and tried to blow out the flames by fanning the towel. Luckily I got them out with the wet towel before she managed to set my hair on fire. My nephew Patrick took part of the charred remains of the bag to put in a baggie as a memento of the Christmas eve that Grandma tried to burn down the house. Mother insisted the rolls tasted fine – she was right if you liked more than a hint of smokiness to your dinner rolls.

The second episode occurred because after years of peeling, what seemed like ten pounds of potatoes, Mother found a way to make boxed instant potatoes taste like the peeled thing. Christmas Eve she instructed me to put sour cream in the potatoes. When I asked how much, she said to “just use what’s in the refrigerator”. I did and she was right, the result was delicious “real” potato taste.

Christmas morning I went over to her house early to make the hash brown potato casserole only to discover that one of those cartons of sour cream was supposed to be saved for the next morning’s brunch. I called my sister Lisa who was still at the hotel to have her pick up sour cream on the way over. Mother lived in a small town where there was only a convenience store open that morning. Lisa called in a panic, no sour cream but they did have several cartons of French onion chip dip. She bought all they had. Mother stayed out of the kitchen, although she wondered what was going on with all the whispering and phone calls. We skipped the onions in the recipe and added the dip. We stuffed the empty cartons in the bottom of the trash bag and immediately took it out to the garage.

When the brunch was over Mother proclaimed that was the best casserole she’d ever made, not that she made this one……we might have gotten away with it but I started laughing and it became contagious. When we were laughing to tears, we finally confessed what the special secret ingredient was. Unfazed, Mother simply announced she would always use French onion chip dip from now on. It was pretty tasty!

Wishing you and yours all the blessings of this Season and may your only disasters turn out to be tasty!

Exhilaration

Winston Churchill is reported to have said “Nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.” Luckily, I have never experienced that kind of exhilaration, but after the past week I’d like to borrow Sir Winston’s turn of a phrase to say “Nothing at my age is so exhilarating as to complete outdoor work without a trip to the Emergency Room!”

My husband, following in his father’s footsteps, wants to keep doing the major maintenance work, like this week’s raking and gutter cleaning, as long as he can. Of course, that means that I am out there helping even if it’s just holding the ladder and ducking to avoid debris hitting me from above.

I know, those of you who have already had to get out your snow blowers are wondering why we’re raking leaves in December. Here they have only just all come down and the fifty and sixty degree weather makes it the ideal time to work if there’s not much wind and several days without rain.

On Tuesday we raked and used the leaf blower. I walked to the top of the yard and promptly stepped off the hidden curb onto slick leaves and in an instant was on the ground. Luckily, I escaped without anything more than some bruises. Jim thought I should not try to keep helping, but I did it any way. He muttered something about me being my father’s daughter, then helped me up off the pavement. I must confess that when my stubborn wore off, I was pretty sore. But the yard and driveway looked lovely two hours later.

In Thursday, we cleaned gutters, me on the ground holding the ladder steady and Jim high over head. He likes my help then so the ladder doesn’t take a notion to travel!

The key take away is that we didn’t have to have any medical care beyond some ibuprofen and a little bourbon! Now, that is exhilarating!

What Will They Say?

I’ve always found it interesting to read the obituaries in the local paper. That’s why I wanted to read Heather Lende’s book Find the Good: Unexpected Life Lessons from A Small Town Obituary Writer. My husband ordered it from Amazon for me and I highly recommend it for an uplifting, surprisingly life affirming short read.

It’s fascinating to see what is included in the final announcement and what is not. I learned from a friend there is a charge based on length which could explain why some obituaries are only names, dates and the location and time of the service. Others fill multiple columns listing all the extended family, every award and degree and expansive descriptions of the deceased’s personal enjoyments. Since I live in the Bible Belt and the epicenter of the Roll Tide Nation, it is not surprising to find references to being called home to rest in the arms of Jesus or being a die hard Bama fan. Last week I especially enjoyed reading about the woman who sent Coach Saban a thank you note at the end of the season, but hadn’t been in Heaven long enough to have any influence on the outcome of the Bama LSU game. Her family was certain that she was already working on the Iron Bowl.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what my Obituary will say. Not in a morbid way, but out of curiosity. That train of thought may have started from reading Heather’s book. Then adding coal to my thought train were the last several months of every insurance telemarketer in the Free world relentlessly calling because they knew know many candles were on my cake last week. That’s just plain creepy!

I guess I could follow my mother’s lead and write my own obituary which she did shortly after Daddy left us. The facts that were important to her were put together in such a way that the innocent reader would have been misled about the sequence of events. She didn’t mention any divorces and completely omitted her second husband. She even claimed my baby brother as one of her children – the son she never birthed but my father’s second wife did. Maybe the Alzheimer’s was already taking hold more than we realized.

In the end – pun intended – it really doesn’t matter what appears in the paper or how many columns it takes to outline your life to perfect strangers. The love you share through well-timed hugs, constant prayers, meals together, gifts of time and talent, a compassionate ear, and a shoulder to cry on when there are, hopefully, infrequent tears, day in and day out with the people who are important to you writes its own story of your life. And that’s more than enough.

Sending love and blessings to you!

It’s All In How You Look At It

I really detest having household chores to do. Over the years I have developed the ability to ignore dust until right before we’re expecting company. I used to think this dislike was because I had to cram all my chores into the two days a week that I wasn’t working at the office. Now that I’m working only at home, I like them even less because I have so many other ways that I want to spend my time. Luckily, my husband doesn’t want to have anyone constantly disrupting his day to clean around him – a match made in heaven!

There are two or three chores you simply can’t ignore. Jim would say the first is taking out the garbage. Amazing how much garbage two people can make. The dishwasher lessens the burden of kitchen clean up. I love to cook, but not the cleanup.

My least favorite chore is laundry. It seems like you just get it done and there is something in the baskets again ! My sweet husband has started waiting to put his clothes in the laundry on laundry day so I can have this nanosecond of pleasure in seeing all empty baskets.

His sweet actions made me stop to think that I am looking at this all wrong. Baskets full of clothes to wash means we have plenty to wear and I only have to take them to the washer and dryer, not down to the stream to pound on rocks.

The garbage means we have plenty to eat. And even the dust means we have places and furniture for the dust to collect on.

Beginning today, they aren’t chores any more. They are simply every day blessings of my life….but I hope Jim still lets me enjoy a moment of empty basket bliss from time to time!

And the Heat Goes On

I used to think that you only got cabin fever when you were trapped inside by bitter cold weather with blustery winds and even snow, for weeks at a time. I was wrong. You can get cabin fever trapped in the air conditioning for weeks at a time trying to avoid the sun beating down so strongly that even a walk up to the mailbox can make you break out in a sweat.

It’s nearly October. The Tide are playing their SEC home opener today, but there are no crisp mornings with the waft of Fall in the air. No thoughts of morning coffee outside or afternoon crossword puzzles on the deck. It’s too darn hot!

The seven day forecast shows 90s every day – mid to upper 90s and lows never dipping below 70. That’s not October weather in Alabama. And nary a drop of rain. Somehow Mother Nature is stuck in the dog days of August.

I might begin to believe that global warming is real – except that the records we are breaking for heat are from 1897 yes that’s not a typo 1897! Or 1946. Or 1954.

So I’ll just pour another glass of tea – hydration is important you know – and be thankful for the creative mind that developed whole house air conditioning! And be glad I wasn’t in Alabama when the 1897 record was set! Stay cool!

Off to the Races!

Last week we attended the Union County Fair for Kiwanis barbeque sandwiches, lemon shake ups, and harness races. When we were first married, the races went on for two or three afternoons. My in-laws had box seats in the grandstand and it was always a fun afternoon. Like so many wonderful activities, the harness races have dwindled in popularity. Last year they did not have a single race. This year they had one afternoon with seven races.

A couple of the races were only three horse affairs and the horses clearly hadn’t raced for real very much with one coming up in each race at the very very end, long after the one and two place horses crossed the line. The last three races though came down to the wire. You could even pick winners for your chance a ten dollar prize. We didn’t do that but only picked among ourselves – my husband, his sister, her husband and me. It was wonderful fun after so long an absence from the track.

When we got home I searched for a picture I knew that I had. This is it.

This is in the late sixties and it is Daddy driving Roddy Mac in his “silks” an all white outfit. We spent several summers going to county fairs all over Wisconsin and Illinois and Iowa while Daddy drove Roddy Mac or Spendthrift, our other horse, in the races. We didn’t get to see him in every race, but if Mother could haul us over for the race, because it was close and we could get home that night, we went.

My sister Lori and I got to go out to the track and exercise the horses. We quickly learned how to put on the harness and attach the sulky, much to the amazement of the old men who seemed to live out at the barns on the fair grounds. Especially since Spendthrift was supposed to be an outlaw horse. He was never anything but sweet to the little girls who brought him carrots and that he pulled around the track. We decided he must have been badly treated at some point and it made him behave badly, like an outlaw. Daddy got the horses as payment on veterinary bills. They never won a race, but they helped make the summer vacation and weekends in the fall after school started a little more exciting.

It was wonderful to be with family and out to the races- despite the heat. Most of all, I enjoyed pacing down memory lane!