In Review

This has been quite a year. I sold a house and bought a house. I lost my kitty Newton. I moved to a new state! I'm still learning how directions work here. Because I swear this is a black hole where compasses go to die. I no longer have to adjust recipes for baked goods since I'm back at sea level. The son and I are having pizza tonight. We have agreed on the pizza but not on a movie to watch while eating it. I still marvel at going outside in a fleecy or light jacket in December since I'm used to this being the darkest, coldest time of year. I feel happiness creeping in and hiding in the corners, waiting for me to notice its presence and embrace it. I look forward to the stripped-down decorating that will emerge as I pack away the Christmas decorations. A bottle of champagne is calling to me. I must heed it! The best way to ring in a new year is with bubbles. Have a good one. Don't party too hard and make January first a painful beginning to 2024. Last of all, I am enjoying that today's date is 123123.

 

Merry Christmas, Mom

One of those happy times.

It's Christmas Eve. I'm remembering how much my mom loved Christmas and how December 24, 2009 was the beginning of the end for her. Climbing the stairs to my sister's apartment she didn't feel quite right. She had a difficult time with the stairs and sat down as soon as she got inside. She couldn't get comfortable and she looked very pale, she couldn't catch her breath. It turns out her hip was broken. Even though she was in remission from the multiple myeloma she had been diagnosed with three years earlier, one of the medications that made the remission happen also caused bone loss. Which probably contributed to the hip fracture. So my sis and her son spent hours of Christmas Eve into Christmas morning at the hospital while Mom was in surgery. They did a hip replacement which is standard treatment for this type of fracture and she received full anesthesia for the operation. The elderly don't do so well with anesthesia, the meds are potent and take longer to clear from their systems. I swear Mom was never quite the same after waking up. She was often angry and confused and didn't remember why she was in the hospital. Later, when she was in a nursing home it was the same. She refused to do the physical therapy so she could walk again. Four months later, when Mom took a turn for the worst and ended up in the hospital, I flew down to support my sister and because we thought it might be the end. But she rallied and was placed in another nursing home and went into hospice care. If she didn't want to do physical therapy, she didn't have to. She could have whatever she wanted to eat. I returned home to South Dakota. My sister visited Mom often and took care of things like her laundry. I am so grateful for her attentiveness and care for Mom while I could only check in from a distance. Mom died the end of May, just six weeks after I last saw her. I regret not being able to be there. I regret not having the resources to pay for a better place for her to live out her final days. I regret not having the best long-distance relationship with Mom. I can't change any of those things. I live with them as best I can and try to remember happy times with my mother. There were so many. Now that I'm only ten years younger than Mom when she died, I'm thinking I should get moving on setting down my final wishes and sharing them with my sons. Make it easier for those that I love when I leave them behind. And make the most of the time I have with them now. 

  

Happy Solstice To All!

 

Holiday Porch Pot

I have created a porch pot. It might be a Wisconsin thing. Or a South Dakota thing. The two women who inspired me to make this are South Dakota natives, but one of them now lives in Wisconsin. It feels like a Minnesota thing to me. Now it's a Washington thing. The container came from North Dakota by way of Arizona, and possibly points in between. It's a beat-up coal scuttle that I inherited from my mother. Probably the last place it was used was in my grandfather's blacksmith shop in Alamo, North Dakota in the sixties. I declare that a grand tradition of porch pot placement should be adopted everywhere! Porch pots for all! I do love this time of year.

 

Who Be Ye?

It was midafternoon. I was settled on the sofa with a cup of tea. I had my bruised left foot elevated with an ice pack soothing it. And there it was. A most annoying knock at the door. You know, that shave-and-a-haircut rat-a-tat-tat thing. I considered staying put. But got up and hobbled to the door and opened it. Ten feet or so back from the steps was a terribly cheerful young woman wearing a bright blue jacket with a logo that I couldn't quite read. She started in with her spiel while smiling broadly. I can't tell you what she said beyond a few snatches I caught. talking to your neighbors! great deals! new regulations! I wasn't really listening because my foot was aching and I was still trying to read the logo on her jacket. She paused. I think because she had asked me a question and was waiting for me to respond. I said, I really don't want to talk to anyone today. She said, okay, and turned around and left. It was some sort of Christmas miracle! If someone is at my door and I don't wish to speak with them, all I have to do is say so! I feel so much better! My foot might feel a bit better, too. And I was back on the sofa before my tea got cold. That was easy.

 

Fly!