Month: October 2024

She’s Done it to Me

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She did it again this morning. At least that is what I thought when I found most of my ingredients out to remind myself what I intended to do today.

A couple years ago, when Cheryl was struggling physically more with Parkinson and her struggle with the dementia aspects of it was taking away her ability to follow simple directions, she coerced (maybe too strong of a word) me into helping her make cookies. I did not want to do it at the time.

Once or twice these were Snickerdoodles. And a couple other times we made chocolate chip cookies, the recipe is on the two pound bag of Nestle’s morsels. “You have to get the yellow bag!” she said to me once when I when I returned from the store by myself in the midst of the COVID pandemonium and price-shopped for supplies. “Those won’t work.” I was disheartened. I had purchased the store brand of chocolate chips. I argued my case for twenty-two milliseconds before realizing that there was no point in contesting the issue further. I returned to the store for the correct chips (“Morsels! It will say morsels on the bag. The bag is yellow.” She spoke to my back as I left.)

I can hear her voice. Little stories like this help me to recall her voice.

Yesterday, because I could avoid it no longer, I went to the grocery to restore my larder to its previous vigor. At the beginning my list had only two things, dried cranberries and raisins. Both of these I add to overnight oats which has become a new favorite breakfast treat. I have a pint Ball jar that is just the right size to contain a half cup of rolled oats, a cup of milk and whatever else I put in with those usually raisins or craisins some honey and chia seeds to set in the fridge overnight. I have also added at times cocoa powder, cinnamon, cardamon, vanilla or tahinni and used brown sugar instead of honey. This mixture goes well with my assembly of the coffee in the evening as well as drinking the coffee in the morning.

While putting all away I discovered that the bag of dried cranberries that I purchased would not fit into my quart jar I use to save dried fruit. Alas, some remained in the ziploc bag that only zips most of the time. I left them on the counter to become a healthy evening snack near the apples and bananas.

After preparing some lunch I hunted for some sweetness to satisfy my heritage and hit upon spreading the Nutella look-alike I purchased at Aldi sometime in the past on a saltine cracker and sprinkling cranberries on top. That tuned out pretty good. (If you are not a believer, try it.) I realized that I was inventing a variety of cookie – biscuit or digestive to the Brits out there – and heard Cheryl say, “You could try making a chocolate cookie with stuff in it.” I blame Cheryl when I hear these inventive thoughts about cooking. She was not very inventive with ingredients but very inventive with technique.

I launched myself into search for a basic chocolate cookie that I could modify with extra ingredients. Below is the final product:

  • 2 C. all purpose flour
  • 2/3 C. powdered cocoa
  • 1 tsp. baking soda
  • ¼ tsp. salt
  • 1 ½ C. white sugar
  • 1 C. unsalted butter
  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 tsp. vanilla extract
  • 1 C. chocolate morsels (in the yellow bag)
  • 1 C. dried cranberries
  • ½ C. smashed walnuts (crushed in the bag but I smash them further)

I creamed the butter, eggs, vanilla and sugar for a bit. Whisked the flour, salt, soda and cocoa together in a separate bowl dry and then dumped them into my mixer. (I bought a new mixer recently. It has extra paddles.) After a bit of mixing I tried out my folding paddle and dumped in the rest of the ingredients.

Bake in a 350F (177C) – medium oven 8 to 10 minutes. This lump of cookie dough makes about 4 dozen if you use a teaspoon from your table wear set to scoop and spoon some on to UN-greased cookie sheets like I did. (My mind always wants to grease the cookie sheet and Cheryl always tells me, “No!”)

After 8 minutes on the timer, I rotated the cookie sheets in the oven and added 4 minutes to the time. This worked for me because I dislike (maybe hate) chewy soft cookies. There is something special about just the right crunch that makes me smile.

Cheryl! You turned me into a cookie recipe experimenter. It is all your fault. (Dammit.) I love you and you are right. These are good. The tricky part will be spreading them out in my eating habits. I have eaten three while writing this story. They go well with coffee.

In future experiments I may try crushed peanuts and raisins. GORP cookies sounds good to me.

I wonder which wine pairs well. Pinot Noir? Chardonnay?

A conundrum. There was a big one there in the gap. It was begging to be eaten before I took this picture and I obliged.

Carpe Diem. (life is better with cookies and chocolate)

To Sit or Not to Sit

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To sit or not to sit that is the inaction.

That is the thought that jumped into my head as I pondered life’s choices and what we make of them when we make them.

The young man yesterday morning who in his zeal to get through the intersection on the Yellow traffic signal even though it was obvious that he had no chance of clearing the intersection before the Red because the service truck before him was also in the intersection blocking it chose to ignore his surroundings and become an asshat. (Was that judgmental of me? I chose to be judgmental just then.) I praised him for his eagerness to get his workplace twenty milliseconds faster as the rest of us became 20 minutes late while I waited to turn left through his driver-side door.

The Rule of Lines: The other line always moves faster.

  • 1st corollary: Switching lines (a choice) removes the delay in the queue you entered originally
  • 2nd corollary: Switching back (a second choice) much like Schrodinger’s cat screws it up for everyone.

Choices have consequences. Own them and learn from them.

All the time I am writing this and thinking about these I have stalled my original task I set for myself of going to the grocery store. Sometimes choices that need to be made are distasteful. Today for me that is pushing a grocery cart.

Cheryl taught me to make a list before entering the store. Mom just went to see what interested her. Her attraction to Sam’s Club was the idea that one could snack their way around the store. This idea was adopted by the Thriftway store that I would take her to when she had coerced me into doing it. I have found that Cheryl’s list method works well along side of Mom’s spontaneous want method for me.

It appears that I am fretting before doing. This attitude will keep one at home idling while the rest of the world moves on.

Carpe Diem.

Wordle and Remembrance

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Knowing They Can Fix Me

The gentleman said as a response to an unknown question in an advertisement about a medical institution. I was watching the morning newsy program(s) and thinking about the day. It is a concept that many, myself included, wish for. The hope is that a higher power, a greatness, a consciousness greater than one’s own will take care any difficulty and fix it whatever it is. Is that realistic? What about self reliance? All of this became too hard to think about, so, I awakened the New York Times Wordle game page and did it for a minute or two of distraction.

I inadvertently touched the archive button which I had paid no attention to previously. I found that it would let me go back and work on incomplete games. (down the rabbit hole I went) November of last year was when Cheryl moved to Bridgeway Pointe in the memory care section. There were a half dozen incomplete puzzles. I kept going backward in time working puzzles and thinking about what was happening in our life.

I got to my birthday in August of last year (2023). I did not finish the puzzle that day. I cannot recall anything about what went on that day. Perhaps it was merely another day filled with Parkinson. That goes without saying. The beauty of a journal or a blog is that often I have noted what happened on a certain day in the past. From my blog/journal:

—

That day I wrote about our day. Cheryl was struggling.

—

I am not surprised that I cannot remember my birthday last year. The event itself was unimportant to the task of keeping up with her Parkinson and her dementia. Perhaps one day an oncology style doctor will emerge to straddle the care complexities of PD, dementia and dying which no doctor seems to be able admit is the prognosis for this damnable combination of symptoms and inabilities. The phrase – no one dies from PD, usually you die with it – is very much a distinction without a difference. In fact it might peg the meter on my bullshit detector.

Perhaps next year I can recall what I did this year for my birthday and smile instead of cry.

Carpe Diem.

Prolific Profundity

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Monday Meditation

I thought; Just sit and observe.
Just look and see.
Just be a part of the consciousness.
Just be.

A bench by the path in a park. Birds and bugs. A chipmunk forages.
Snippets of mumbled conversation and comments of walkers and those who are walking.
A view of the lake.
A bird calls.

Autumn in mid-season.
Midday but the sun low.
A bright warm day as
its radiance diminishes.

Lichen on the Oak near.
Far, mostly green but here and there another color
as the deciduous decide the weather to come,
the darkness to come.

Quick steps now.
A duck calls to its mate.
Music. And many walkers cannot disconnect.
A child counts bounces of his basketball. A hundred ten!

I walk on.
From the other side of the pond, a different view.
An Osage is fruitful.
A tiny spider walks up my arm and wonders why I am atop its bench.

I wonder also.

Dear Cheryl

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Dear Cheryl,

It has been six months today. How are you in your new existence? I have to admit to myself that I still miss you greatly. You were so much of my life how can I not?

I wrote on my blog (I am sure that you read it.) about my own personal “If Only”. If Only is the title of the next section of the Grief Share series. I have not watched the video yet but I will later today in preparation for helping Sr. Janet tomorrow.

In case you forgot, here is what I wrote the other day:

If Only

There is no percentage in “if only”. None. Although many of us spend considerable time with if-only style thoughts. If only I had completed (insert item here) I would be (insert perceived superlative or horror here). If only I had asked (him, her, them) about the consequences of (this, that , those) we would be (better, worse, still wondering). One can go anywhere with a good if only.

There is no percentage in it. Nothing is gained by speculative thought and other attempts to predict present out comes from “if only I had”. Additionally there is no real risk except perhaps diminishing self worth. God (or whatever one’s concept of God is) as the eternal knows the future and needs no predictors. Past, present and future is the same to the eternal.

Fuzzy philosophy there but what-iffing your past actions does not help today’s actions.

Grief Share talks about this in long winded generality. The “if only” that I deal with often when it jumps into my head is why could I not see that she was moments from leaving this existence when I kissed her good night the evening before she died.

This is my “if only”. What would be different today if I had sat up with her as she took her last breath? I will never know.

If Only.

At the time I was experimenting with prose poetry in a way. You know what a corny poet I am. I still have those old letters we wrote each other in high school. I have yours and mine because you never threw anything away. Neither did I. Those notes are special to me. Not long after you died, I read some of them and thought that I should put them together and match the dates. I did not. Much like looking through old pictures (I found the packets from our trip out west with the kids.) I look through your letters and then find my reply. Good heavens, I was smitten with you back then.

I am smitten with you now as I think about those days and the life we had together.

A fellow blogger wrote this comment to me: “I was with my dad in his final hours, lingering long. My older brother wondered aloud if he was hesitant to leave while I was there, as if to protect my sensitive soul. When I went home to sleep, he went on to eternity.

I hope this might bring you some comfort. “

(Karen 🙂 — comment posted to my blog)

I wrote back: “ … And that is what I tell myself. My father (I think) waited until Cheryl and I left to eat a little lunch. When we came back – Dad was gone. I simply did not want her to feel abandoned. I think that is the source of my sadness when it pops into my head. — and this thought and how it affects me is what I will think about today as I walk and try to enjoy this beautiful Autumn day in Ohio. Those thoughts make it all about me and I do not want to feel that way. At other times I think Cheryl hung on as long as she did because she wanted to be sure that I would be okay. That was her personality. (that thought also makes it about me.) Today is Monday. Cheryl died on Monday April 22. Six months ago today. I think I am missing her a little more today.
Thank you for reading and your comment. It is a comfort.”

Do you remember that? We went to be with Dad that day at Hospice and we went to get some soup in the little lunch room they had there. That is a vivid memory of mine.

I can still see Dad’s gray face. I can still see your gray face. I can still see Mom’s gray face. I can still hear the silence when Laura stopped breathing.

Even when it is expected, death is unexpected. If you had wanted me there to be with you that morning and could not wait any longer, I apologize for not getting there to be with you. Please do not think that I abandoned you. If you knew when I was coming that morning and did not want to upset me with your silence, thank you but I was upset anyway. (pretty sneaky, girl)

I miss you today. I am going to take a walk in the sunshine and think about it all.

If you are allowed to, save me a seat next to you. We will talk more when I get there.

As always with love,

Paul

Autumn Haiku and Inner Thought

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friday comes with cool
sun peeks higher in the sky
autumn is awake

she speaks in my head
often with her quiet voice
our love continues

this day Cheryl is
this day memories of us
happy memories

Haiku form – 5 : 7 : 5 – is a favorite poetic form to me. Real poets, I do not consider myself a real poet, are able to paint a picture, elicit an emotion or start a meditation with seventeen syllables. Distilling feelings and ideas to their basic form. I have noticed in myself that many times words do not work. The search for a word with the perfect nuance of what I feel alludes me often. Perfection at reading what is not there is not my strongest ability.

And yet, funneling feelings into seventeen sounds is sometimes satisfying.

Meditation (I use that word instead of prayer) comes in many forms to me. Today it is distillation of thought into seventeen bits of non-prattle.

abracadabra
in mind appears some pictures
our happier times

grieve companion lost
happy memories abound
love is present, found

Thinking about Cheryl today as I write about our life with its past joys and wonderful trips and the sadness and struggles near the end has pushed me into haiku today. Waiting to see what the rest of the day brings and the realization that existence takes care of itself without my help is comforting.

Is that prayer?

Carpe Diem.

If Only

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If Only

There is no percentage in “if only”. None. Although many of us spend considerable time with if-only style thoughts. If only I had completed (insert item here) I would be (insert perceived superlative or horror here). If only I had asked (him, her, them) about the consequences of (this, that , those) we would be (better, worse, still wondering). One can go anywhere with a good if only.

There is no percentage in it. Nothing is gained by speculative thought and other attempts to predict present out comes from “if only I had”. Additionally there is no real risk except perhaps diminishing self worth. God (or whatever one’s concept of God is) as the eternal knows the future and needs no predictors. Past, present and future is the same to the eternal.

Fuzzy philosophy there but what-iffing your past actions does not help today’s actions.

Grief Share talks about this in long winded generality. The “if only” that I deal with often when it jumps into my head is why could I not see that she was moments from leaving this existence when I kissed her good night the evening before she died.

This is my “if only”. What would be different today if I had sat up with her as she took her last breath? I will never know.

If Only.

On that sad thought – Carpe Diem.

Habits, Routines, Small Adjustments, Change and Growth

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This morning I restarted my morning chair yoga exercise routine. This morning I restarted morning meditation. Two things I notice: I have a pleasant gentle ache in various muscles from the stretching exercise, I did not hear the tinnitus in my ears while focused on breathing. These came to me as I sat across the room to revisit that short experience and my sense of time passing so slowly dissipated while I did these activities. My timer seemed to announce completion after a mere ten milliseconds instead of minutes from when I started it.

Time compressed. Where am I going? What am I hunting for?

Good health and peace in my soul is my spontaneous answer to the second question. Does going mean physically moving and travel to somewhere? Or is it internal? Some of each? Neither?

When Cheryl was still alive and with me here at home, I began to worry that my own health and well being suffered because I was totally focused on her health, what she ate, how much she ate, her mobility, her balance, her attention, her memories, her perception, her moods, her bowel urges. I rejected concern for myself.

Much of that concern then is useful for me now. Now I am focused on my health, what I eat, how much I eat, my mobility, my balance, my attention, my memories, my perception, my moods, my bowel urges. I think older folks focus too much on bowel urges. At the same time it seems important to note what foods that used to be favorites no longer seem to be tolerated as well as they once were.

When Cheryl was still here I began and kept up for many months an early morning routine of chair yoga. I bought a book. (I am always hunting for the manual.) I found the book back this morning after I finished my ten minute scheme to start. The exercises are simple and directions have illustrations. (YouTube has plenty of these but as soon as one gets into the zen, the calm, the mood, some extra-volume political message appears and phffst, just like that zen is destroyed. For an unreasonable sum, YouTube is ad free.)

Facebook shows me advertisements for an app with some 90-something guy with great abs doing chair exercises too. Those are amusing and laughable and less obnoxious and quieter. Welcome to the world of zen and social media.

I am not hunting for perfect abs. I remain uninterested in protein shakes.

I am interested in losing a little weight because my pants would be a bit looser. Most of that weight is hiding out on the front of me. I see it every day in the mirror.

I like meat. Meat has protein and tastes much better than a protein shake. Peanuts, nuts, eggs, oats, seeds and wheat have protein and all of those taste better than a protein shake. If it isn’t broccoli or celery, there is some protein in it. Broccoli has better taste than a protein shake.

Where am I going? That remains to be seen and felt. I strive to find a deeper meaning within myself.

For most of the spring and summer months I found something in pedaling my bike along the bike paths around town. I found an inner peace. I learned to focus over time on the piece of the trail immediately in front of me. I looked far ahead only to anticipate obstacles and plan maneuvers around them.

I returned to our church. Cheryl was much better at religion than I am. I am more questioning. I returned to church not for the religiosity. I returned for the community. I sit in a different place. (Everyone seems to have their place in a church.) Cheryl had a place that she liked to sit and of course I sat with her. I sit in a different place now. Just me.

I am going toward the next thing. That thing is right in front of me. It is not way out in the distance.

“Winter is coming”, says the head knight staffing the wall in Game of Thrones. It is indeed. Prepare for it. Dress for it. Do not be anxious. Anxiety serves no purpose.

Carpe Diem.

Connections

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I really enjoy playing this game from the New York Times. It gets me to think beyond what I perceive.

One of the words today was “shiva”. To me in my environment in my meager knowledge of the world, other cultures, other traditions, “shiva” says mourning and is part of Jewish faith tradition. I am also a poor speller. That shiva is spelled with a h on the end. It can also be something that one does in a cold late Autumn drizzle while waiting for the bus if you are located in the part of New England where the r is often dropped at the end of the word. These two thoughts in combination led me to type shiva into Google’s AI driven (assisted?) interface.

The Hindu god of destruction appeared with a picture. All became clear. Before I returned to the NYT Games page to search for the rest of the connections to shiva, I spent some comfortable blissful time reading about Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. (Creator, Preserver, Destroyer) I play this game every morning but I do not always finish it because I become impatient with myself and the search for the connections. Patience is a virtue that has to be practiced often even in small ways to become comfortable. And I am not a keen observer of pop culture. Some connections are those kind.

All of this came while I am baking another new recipe and became distracted with thinking that Carl Sagan had written a book called Connections but his book is actually entitled, “Cosmos Connections”. I used to have it somewhere. His show from the 1980s is called simply Cosmos. Astronomy, planets and stars and night time sky phenomena also fascinate me. Oops I have fallen down another rabbit hole but it has led me to thinking about Cheryl. Or maybe the smell of baking has caused me to think about her.

Cheryl at the very end of her life became enamored with the moon and its phases. A couple times sitting with her in the evening in front of our home watching the moon and airplanes and the international space station go by, I saw the wonder in her eyes and voice as she marveled at the bigness of it all and the smallness of us. These little snippets of lucidity appeared at random. I think she was sensing something that I could not.

I miss that and I miss her. I am glad that our connection is so strong. I am glad that she leaves me little messages around when I hunt for things.

Carpe Diem… (I’m sure you can smell it. Banana Nut bread)