Author: AdjunctWizard

Not Perfect but Better

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“Not perfect but better than it was” is my new answer to the question, “How are you doing?”

A good friend told me recently (In my thoughts, I used the verb accused.), “You are good at thinking about what you are thinking about and communicating that…” I thought to myself, huh? I do not understand what that means. My second thought was, is that a good thing?

Maybe that is why I am here talking to the computer (me really) and maybe putting these thoughts on my little blog. Maybe I do think about things more deeply than others. Maybe I do not. Caring for someone every hour of everyday with a chronic disease which gets steadily worse has turned my attention to finding grace and meaning in the little things and simple things around me. I suppose that fits with Carpe Diem.

Carpe Diem is how I sign these blog posts. And these are more and more about me, which fits because Cheryl is no longer here. And down the rabbit hole of meditation and thoughts about life and where it is going and where it was before, I have fallen. Alas. I can consume much of the day thinking about it. I hope I am not mired in grief. I do not think so. I do think that I have a predisposition to helping others if I can. I suppose I learned that from my father. (Ahh! another stream of conscience.)

If you are not used to doing this thought process on your own (finding your space and place), seek out a support group, either face to face or on Facebook. It is helpful with whatever difficultly you are encountering. The anonymity of Facebook works for many. Talking person to person about a mutually experienced disease or issue works for others.

This will sound like a tangent but stay with me. I have a notepad I keep on the kitchen table that I use to take notes about various vegetables and other items that I cook for a meal. I roast many things in the oven because I find it a convenient way cook. And while the oven is cooking there is often a convenient fifteen minutes or so for a glass of wine. Alas, I have digressed. On this pad I note which combinations of ingredients seem to work for me, so that I can repeat them in the future if I desire. (Cooking for one can be a chore.)

My first note is; brussel sprouts / tomato / carrots / salt, pepper, toss with olive oil / roast all 375F ~ 20 mins. This is pretty cryptic but this is a combination of vegetables that I like roasted together. There are others. Trying to eat healthy is a personal goal. I quartered the tomato and roasted it along with the rest.

My second note is; What’s in that soup? And a list of ingredients that I put in the soup. Several days ago it was a list of ingredients for beef, vegetable, barley soup. Today’s soup is a butternut squash recipe modified from the Mind Diet cookbook. I used orange lentils (1C.) instead of tofu and not so much ginger. My scribble tells me what marsala curry powder is made from.

My point is this: I have given myself the opportunity and place to note to myself about what is working. I do not feel the need to keep notes on what does not work in cooking a meal or in life. (Laments are not my style. I just throw away any leftovers… did he mean food or life? Yes.) It must be my personal reason for journaling and exposing my emotions to the blog-o-sphere.

I am not attempting to convince anyone of this method. I just know it works for me. I keep notes about what works for me when I am cooking. I keep notes about what works for me in life – my journal and this blog.

I rarely notice my own habits and attributes and other things that I do to help myself during the day. I used to have Cheryl to do that for me and it is, no doubt, another reason that I miss her so each day. (I know you are reading this , Cheryl, so there you have it.) It seems that I have others who do that for me also and I did not know they were there.

Others have told me that my words help them. If you are one of those, you are welcome. I only know that my writing helps me.

Look for grace where you can find it. (Cheryl often told me, there is grace in accepting help from others.) There is grace in simply being present for others.

Carpe Diem

Food Therapy (revisited)

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In a long discussion with a colleague at work in our little mechanical lab classes that I help with, (I am resistant to calling myself instructor. I know not why.) Fritz described a childhood memory that he called “dried apple stack cake”. This, of course, sent me off to do an internet search for recipes while he was talking. Baking for me is fun and experimental. I found a couple recipes for apple stack cake and when he discovered that I might make one he sent a text to his cousin and she responded with a recipe from down home. (notice the Adjunct Wizard in the microwave oven. Scary.)

Dried Apple Stack Cake

1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, well beaten
1/3 cup molasses
1/2 cup buttermilk
3 1/2 cups flour
1/2 teaspoon soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ginger
1 teaspoon vanilla
Cooked dried apples (see below)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. (convection)
Cream shortening and sugar; add beaten egg, molasses, buttermilk, and mix well. Sift flour, soda, salt, and ginger into a big mixing bowl. Make hole in center of dry ingredients and pour in creamed mix, stirring until well blended. Add vanilla, stir well, and roll out dough as you would for a pie crust. Cut to fit 9-inch (Here I used 5 – 9 inch pans – somehow I lost track of 7 layers.) pan or cast-iron skillet (this amount of dough will make 7 layers). (Note when I do again – Try rolling out on parchment paper and baking on cookie sheets.)
Bake layers for 10 to 12 minutes, or until lightly browned. When cool, stack layers with spiced, sweetened old-fashioned dried apples. (See recipe below.)
Spread between layers and smooth around sides and top. Sprinkle with powdered sugar, if desired, or beat egg whites into a meringue and spread on outside of cake. You may brown the meringue if desired.
Prepare cake at least a day before serving it and put in refrigerator (it will keep several days, if necessary, in a cool place.) To serve slice into very thin layers.

Cooked Dried Apples* [I found that dried apples are NOT readily available in the grocery store. At least, not in the stores I shop in regularly.]

Put 1 pound apples (dried) in heavy pan and cover with cold water. You may need to add water several times to keep apples from sticking to pan. Cook until soft enough to mash. While still hot, mash apples and add 1 cup brown sugar, 1 cup white sugar, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, ¼ teaspoon cloves, and 1 teaspoon allspice.

*If dried apples are not available, cook several pounds (6-7 lbs. – apples are about 85% water) cooking apples with a little water. Add spices and sugars as listed above, and cook until mixture is very thick.
OR [my fix to no dried apples]
3 lbs. (48 oz.) of no sugar or other spices added applesauce. Bring to a boil then cook on low simmer for 45-50 minutes. Stir in sugars and spices at the beginning. Liquid will reduce by 25% or so. Cool to room temp and chill in refrigerator for several hours (over night). One last thing, this filling is great and there will be leftovers. It is GREAT on toast, for example. (I’m thinking about pork chops for dinner.)

• Mod 1: I used applesauce as above.
• Mod 2: OOPS I made only 5 layers.

This is the picture from Fritz’s cousin. As you can readily see, I assembled my too few layers upside down. Will it taste different if assembled right side up? This is a heavy question. I sense another experiment developing. In the meantime I need to thaw a couple pork chops. (And Fritz pronounced it good.)

Carpe Diem!

Listening Some More

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The holiday festivities are here. The Grief Share topic is “how to survive”. Last year was hard enough. Am I expecting it to be harder? I do not know.

This particular weekend has been and is still a busy one. For some simply being busy helps with grief and I suppose that may be true for me too. Fewer folks showed up for the holiday grief share program. Perhaps that is because they are busy with Thanksgiving planning. Perhaps many simply do not want to think about it. I was not thinking about it until the opportunity arose to attend this special group.

This will be the first Thanksgiving Day – which by the way is my favorite festivity – without Cheryl being physically here. Last year she was not mentally here. I do not expect to not be sad and I will not apologize for feeling that way.

When the carpet cleaner folks are finished today I will decide where to put the Christmas tree. And after I make that decision I will get it out of the box and put it up. I did not do that last year. Perhaps I will start a new tradition this year and place the tree in a different spot. Cheryl will argue with me in my head. I look forward to it (the arguing).

Do not be a curmudgeon, Paul. Try your best to be if not happy, at least, up beat. When we gather this year let’s talk about the good times. I remember a Christmas Eve a long time ago when she insisted that I open her gift to me after we had come home. I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep after a night of celebration and maybe a little too much alcohol. She had made me a shirt. She was so proud of it. Those are the experiences that I want to remember. (I do not remember what I gave her that year.) I was then and am still now impressed with her ability as a seamstress. That is only one of my favorite memories.

Another more recent memory from maybe three years ago, she said to me, “Get your music machine out and turn on Christmas music.” She means Alexa. I cringed when she told to do that. I think I grumped a little too and then I went to get the hockey puck I move around to listen to music. A Christmas song or two in among others is okay. WARM 98’s idea of solid Christmas music, old, new, good, bad, chipmunks, Benedictine monks, rock and roll, country-western, some group of nuns, Bing Crosby, etc. a few years ago lost me as a listener. That was not a big deal to them since I rarely listened to their station. Five weeks of Christmas music is agony to my ear. I feared the worst was going to happen – Christmas carols from Halloween to Christmas. There would be no “Monster Mash”. I said loudly, “Alexa, play Christmas music!” Off we went into the holiday season. Cheryl insisted on making cookies that day and I helped her. (I wish I was not so reluctant to do so that day but that day is history.)

Cheryl often told me a story about peeking through the keyhole of the doorway to the living room and seeing all the toys around the Christmas tree. The keyhole got dark and the door flew open. (Uh oh.) There is more to the story and I wrote it down somewhere. I may spend the rest of the day looking for where I put it.

  • Smile!

Be thankful for what you have been given! Carpe the Holidays and Carpe this Diem and all the rest you are given.

Carpe Diem.

Listening

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Listen with your heart. It is quieter than your mind.

Listening to my youngest son talk to his oldest son lightens my heart. They have common interests in sports. I do not have a strong interest in professional sport. Those are merely noise off to the side of the snacks and other refreshment.

Many years ago I listened to my father when he told me, you should always listen to the other guy even if you think he is a jerk because he might have a good idea. Dad rarely expressed his judgment of others. He also understood within himself that listening does not happen while one is talking.

Mom had a phrase that I remember from childhood. She used to say, you have to pull up your own socks. I do not know where that came from but I took it to mean that one should seek help from others when necessary but it is up to oneself to get up and move on from any difficulty.

Today I am listening to my heart. I believe I need to listen to that part of me. How do I feel about all that has unfolded in my life. Political noise has had no effect on that. Life and living with Cheryl for three quarters of that time has. She has made me a better man. But so has listening to Mom and Dad and listening to my son’s conversation with his son. So has listening to my heart. In a lifetime of conversation, real conversation, and listening to others in my life, I have concluded that only I can pull up my own socks. And as I write this I think about the times I pulled up Cheryl’s no slip socks (her name for them) in the evening and put her pajamas on her to prepare for bed. She would not accept my help to do that in the morning when she got up.

Last week I retreated from the every day so that I could listen to my heart. I find that to be easier and more fulfilling if I distract myself after awhile with some occupation totally diverse to a previous concentration. This method has worked often for me through life. (The mantra is “sleep on it.”) A book of fiction or movie that has no moral to convey, a romantic comedy will do this for me. The distraction refreshes. I can look for help where I can find it but only I can pull up my socks.

I have been listening to the Grief Share videos purposefully for several weeks. I find myself talking and commenting to the various experts and listening to the people relating their grief story. There is a yin and yang to it all in my thoughts. I resist experts telling me what wine pairs well with what cheese. Occasionally, Dad will say be quiet and listen. (Maybe not often enough do you talk to me, Dad.) So, today I will listen with my heart.

I will remind myself that my concept of God is not the same as other’s concept of God. It is important to see past the literal when reading the Bible or the Quran or any religious text and just listen. Listen to your heart. Meditation an eastern concept helps with this. Prayer a western concept helps with this. Keep an open mind. Be still and just listen. Read Siddhartha. Be still. Listen.

Yes, Dad.

Carpe Diem.

Finding the Way

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We’re having trouble finding that site. Try again later.

Sad words indeed when this city boy is attempting to amuse himself while drinking coffee. The internet is a glorious ethereal place shrouded in mystery and fog. This is the message I got early in the morning as I was preparing to leave my seclusion in the woods and return home.

It was a rainy drive for the first hour or so. The road was shrouded in spray and misty fog. I found the defroster control and turned it on. Only a very slight improvement in visibility appeared so I moved to the far right lane of the three lane road and slowed down a bit. A big semi truck in front of me had the same idea and he turned on his flashers. I trailed behind him for a few miles in the misty rain. The truck loomed in and out of the gloom in front of me.

Undaunted by lack of visibility others sped by to the left in the lanes we had vacated. A pick up truck sped by behind another semi. It was close enough to read and record the trailer tag number. I wished him well and suddenly realized that I was uninterested in the tag number on the trailer looming in and out of the mist in front of me. A safe distance was more important. The trailer itself was a black tarped load and occasionally it disappeared completely much like the internet before I started the trip home.

Why is that guy tailgating the truck? He is apparently not in a hurry or he would go around the truck. He is also not in fear of losing his life.

This morning I clicked the retry symbol on the browser window. The weather website I was attempting to get to awakened and predicted a rainy drive for part of the way home.

Earlier this week I have been doing the same thing (retry) with my life. It is still loading. Part of the future seems more comfortable.

Retry and reflective solitude. Both of those worked, although the latter will be useful for a while longer.

Carpe Diem.

Hurry, Haste

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What is your hurry?

I ask myself that question several times per day. What is your hurry?

My encouragement to myself is “what is your hurry?” At this stage of my life the answer is I do not know. (IDK)

I do know that when I close my eyes in the sunny shade of these woods and empty my mind as best I can, and then I open my eyes again the evergreens are a brilliant color with a deeper blue. Why is that? IDK. I have hurried through life without looking.

Why did I pick this trail for today’s activity? A day ago I wrote that I am not a child anymore and I am not youthful but I still see a world of wonder with youthful eyes. I remember long ago when Cheryl and I came here we hiked this trail more quickly than I do today. I am not in a hurry. Maybe that memory brought me up the cliff face. IDK. Today I stopped often to rest but also to look, think, remember and read and listen while I read.

I selected several books to bring with me on this retreat and personal retrospective. I selected first “So long and Thanks for the Fish” by Douglas Adams. I have read a couple of the others from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy trilogy. There are five books altogether and the theme is cynicism and simultaneous mediocrity as we splash through life. Wonko the Sane explained why he became a hermit – “The sign read: hold stick near the center of its length. Moisten pointed end in mouth. Insert in tooth space blunt end next to gum. Use gentle in-out motion. It seemed to me,  he said, that any society that had so far lost its head to put such a detailed set of instructions on a package of toothpicks, was no longer a civilization that I could live in and stay sane.” We have a lot of things like that going on. “Caution HOT!” is printed on the side of the McDonald’s coffee cup.  I always think, “I hope so.” Why are warning signs like this posted? I passed several today on railings erected along the trail. The other side of the rail was a sheer drop. “DANGER No Entrance ” is printed on the sign.  IDK. I did not hurry through the small volume. Several times walking today I found myself reading on a convenient log or outcrop of rock.


Why did I select this book to read first? IDK but it has been many years since I read the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy and the absurdity of the story line is compelling. Maybe it is time to review my life and start anew. Maybe I long for the next great thing. IDK. There is no hurry.

There will be time to take time for wonder. There is no hurry.

Carpe Diem.

Time Alone

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Cumberland Thoughts

I came to be alone with my thoughts for awhile and hike in the woods.

Leaves falling in a light breeze in a forest sounds like rain if you listen. They mark the end of a season. They make no promises about the next season. The plants go dormant and wait in hope of spring.

When hiking on leaf covered trails pick up your feet to avoid tripping on invisible rocks and tree roots. (Sometimes wisdom emerges during a morning Autumn hike in the woods.) This learning experience dissipated a mere hundred yards down the trail. The lesson was repeated to emphasize its importance.

Another wisdom arose nearing the end of this trail, one I often forget; “You are not a child or even young anymore. Those steep grades covered with leaves are not for you.”

There are many memories in this park and they are all mixed up in my heart and head. You, Cheryl, got the kids and grand kids to appear for my 60th birthday and our 38th anniversary. We came here many times. Now you are gone and I am here without you.

I have to leave that thought. This is an experiment with a new experience. I am still feeling my way along. Am I here because this is the new beginning? That old adage – This is the first day of the rest of your life! – popped into my mind. What should I do with it?

I talk about being old but I am not really. I can walk without assistance. I should focus on what is possible. I have not hiked trail #6 up to the DuPont lodge since Luke was seven or so. Up up and away. I made it and not too winded. (I am not afraid to tune into my body and take a break when it tells me.)

These are things that ran through my thoughts today as I followed two woodland trails. The first down to Cumberland falls from the DuPont lodge in the park. The second back up the cliff to the lodge for a bite of lunch.

This park has a lot of history for Cheryl and me. We came here on our honeymoon trip. We spent a week in one of the old cabins not far from the lodge. In those days (1970) the housekeeping folks showed up everyday with fresh towels and two rolls of toilet paper in what looked like an old milk delivery truck. We took some home, I think. We were poor. Later I would wonder what they thought we were doing that we needed so much toilet paper for. It was late August but I could not imagine how that factored into it.

After the kids were grown and on their own we came back here for our 25th wedding anniversary. I had thought we might do a big deal trip for that but here seemed appropriate. Afterward we came here many times on the weekend near our anniversary. It is close and special. Those particular trips, about ten or fifteen years worth, are special memories. On some trips we when to other Kentucky parks but we continued to return to Cumberland Falls. The last time was before the pandemic pandemonium.

I was thinking about that yesterday. Cheryl needed a cane to lean on then. I asked her when the last time was that we were here as I walked up the front steps into the lodge and she flashed me a picture of her holding her cane and holding the handrail to go down the steps in front. (She was stubborn about ramps.) Often she sends images to me.

Carpe Diem and the images as they become memories.

(Cartoon from Reddit.)

Where are the Pasties?

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Fast Food lovers Unite!

Has anyone noticed or even thought about the sad state of fast food? The universe is full of burgers and fries. These are chips to the Brits out there. Why is that? Are fast foodies complacent? Why put up with that selection? Yes sometimes the burger is made from chicken and sometimes it is made with pork the other white meat and sometimes the burger is shaved or sliced instead of ground but it is still a burger. Where are the falafels? Where are the pitas? There are other fast foods folks. Where are the pasties? You thought I was stuck on middle eastern cuisine did you not? Pasties are a big deal with Cornish miners. Where are the shrimp tacos?

I am ranting. I struck out on a spontaneous couple of days away from any preconceived commitments to just be by myself today. In a conversation I had over several days decided to simply leave. I told my kids. I told a couple others that might wonder where I went. I told my niece who cleans for me every couple of weeks. I am gone this week – well most of it. I have digressed.

Traveling south on a main artery in the U. S. should bring one in contact with a vast selection of fast food choices. Nope. Just burgers and fries exist in the two hundred-ish miles I drove today. What a disappointment this was to me. I had planned to drive thru somewhere and snag something different. Fast foodies are complacent. Or asleep maybe.

Frisch’s, a local fast(ish) food chain is closing in an agonizingly slow fashion. An out-of-state crowd bought the restaurants and real estate and leased the real property back to the restaurant operators. Probably some percentage of the profits deal was put together. The pandemic pandemonium ensued and everyone operating on half a shoe string struggled to stay alive.

What doe that have to do with anything? What does that have to do with food choices on commercial goods arteries in the U. S.? Nothing except that I saw a billboard ad for Frisch’s as I was driving along and I thought I might stop there. That thought drifted into burgers which morphed into anything else but burgers which made me think about what comes with a burger/chicken/pork-patties, just fries. All are on a bun. Not rutabaga, not squash, not carrots, some places have sweet potato fries, and some places do have mushy onion paste rings but where is mustard greens? Where are rice cakes? Where are fried green tomatoes?

Why is it always a bun? What’s in that flour that buns are made of? I looked longingly for a burrito sign and was overwhelmed with burgers.

A pasty can contain anything but its usual form is beef stew in a pastry shell. This picture from the Daring Gourmet. I think I will try it when I get home. All I need now is skirt steak and a swede or two.

I long for carrots or rutabaga and now I am hungry.

Carpe Diem.

It is Easy to be Bitter

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That thought popped into my head as I looked through stories on this blog and thought about the past couple years with Cheryl.

I do not want to be bitter. What I want is to leave it all behind for a while.

Hind sight is twenty-twenty as wisdom has written but the view is also distant and wider. It can be more scenic. Much sweetness is visible with the bitter.

Looking forward has greater appeal.

Carpe Diem.

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)