expectations

On To…

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I originally wrote most of this in December of 2021. The lessons I learned and techniques I developed for communicating with my wife who was dealing with Parkinson disease and associated dementia are applicable today. The lessons of life are illusory and fade if not maintained.

I am learning things about myself from Debbie that I was only beginning to learn from Cheryl and taking care of her at the end of her life. Dementia is a misunderstanding between the brain and it surroundings and the sensors it uses to detect the environment. An oversimplification to say the least but a miscommunication certainly. Missed communication is at the heart of any conflict or dispute.

Lessons from making cookies

December, 2021: Cheryl’s Cookies (Not the Commercial Venture)…

Living with a parkie (person suffering from Parkinson’s disease) makes me alert to new information when it comes up. That being said I do not always recognize my new task nor do I always recognize the information as new. This is about becoming a master cookie maker on the fly. I was not completely inept. I make bread often.

Executive function and loss of it…

Dementia occurs in about 50% of Parkinson’s sufferers who have had it for some time. Mild cognitive impairment often shows up first, followed by hallucinations, delusions, misunderstanding, memory loss and inability to follow simple directions. It is disheartening. Some behaviors are side effects of medications. Some come with build up of unpronounceable proteins in the brain. No matter the source, the behavior can be disheartening and annoying from a care partner perspective because the person you once knew is physically there and mentally not completely there. From a care partner’s perspective it seems that the medical community does not forewarn anyone about this aspect of the disease.

I am a retired engineer and have an innate curiosity about everything around me. Cooking, baking, bread making and all things requiring an oven have a particular fascination. There is practical chemistry in cooking both with the ingredients and the people cooking them. To the question, why do it that way? Near the end, my wife’s reaction often was anger to some perceived slight or merely to the wording of it. (She is the parkie in this story but that may have little to do with it. I caulked most of these reactions to her PD and her mental state at the time.)

It is an engineer’s question. It starts with me. Words and question structure are important factors. Engineers always want to ask why something is done some way or simply is some way. Why often sounds like a challenge, even to other engineers, if it is not asked properly. Tenor is detected in tone of voice both in the sound we make with vocal chords and inside our own head. Cognitive impairment interferes with interpretation of subtleties of tenor and tone of voice.

How to do…

December, 2021: Our latest challenge to our marital bliss is Christmas cookies. Baking is a hobby and a passion to me. I like to think I have perfected my meager talent at making breads of various types and shapes. I am proud of that but lately I have pushing into cakes and pies. The pandemic pandemonium gets to us all in various ways.

My perception of making cookies is one of a trivial exercise in baking. That is an incorrect perspective but one that I have internalized. December is cookie making time. Cheryl is helping me or I am helping her that is unclear in this reminisce but her Parkinson is affecting her more and more. Two cooks in the kitchen is a recipe for a challenge to peaceful coexistence. Two bakers near an oven enables battle lines to be established and defended with vigor. Starting a question with why is akin to removing one’s glove and casting it upon the dueling ground. [Emoji (:-)] Cheryl has made perhaps a giga-dozen (I just made up that word) of cookies. I have made none. What can I say to redeem myself? Engineers ask why a lot and in this exercise I learn to find a more agreeable way to get her to tell me what she knows.

The lead-in; I do not understand, why do… seems to temper the why. Small children ask why a lot until finally the because-I-say-so comes out.

Where to start…

To a skilled cookie baker the recipe is merely a guide, a refresher, a list that says these get lemon zest. Interestingly, that is much like how I view a new bread recipe. I am on familiar territory. (He thought to himself with arrogance.)

Not so fast apprentice! Nearby there is a master cookie baker. Do not question the master’s skill at her craft with disdainful utterances such as, why and how come? All will be revealed. But also keep an eye on the recipe and make answers such as, yes, we have put that in the mix and suggestions, such as, shall I add the butter?

Sometimes with creeping dementia ingredients are forgotten. Sometimes without that factor ingredients are forgotten. Try to be kind and remember that no one got up in the morning thinking, how can I mess with his mind today? Most importantly, do not raise your voice two octaves, that is a dead giveaway to your ignorance.

How does one check for doneness? (It is common sense!) Look at them. (the “fool” is left unsaid.) They will look right. What is right? (and on and on and on…) Cooking is a process. It is learned by doing. Life is random. It is learned by experience.

The 3C method – Cut out the Crap in the Conversation…

To a person standing nearby this conversation sounds rude. It sounds like one person is giving another orders and it can be that way. If done with kindness in the communicator’s heart and with understanding that a Parkinson’s patient also may be dealing with confusion issues, it is neither rude nor demeaning in any way. Often a person experiencing Parkinson’s cannot or does not get the implication or inference. Be clear. Have kindness in your voice when speaking. No teasing.

When tasting the cookies later after they have cooled, do not say, “YOU FORGOT THE SALT!” Instead say “These seem off somehow. Did we forget an ingredient?” Gentle discussion allows for thoughtful assessment rather than confrontational reaction.

The onus is on the care partner not the parkie to be patient, kind and clear. Be aware, care partner, that this is hard to do because you remember how your partner/spouse/parent/friend was before. (Good natured teasing may be misinterpreted. Be certain that your partner is not confused.) You too can be unaware of how they are now. The Parkinson’s patient may become sad or angry. Be persistent if you as care partner are very concerned about safety. Add some love to the conversation if you think you are not getting through the confusion. Strive to not become frustrated and raise your voice (two octaves).

We did wind up with our first battle batch of cookies. Although they were a motley crew, they tasted fine.

This episode came to me as I was thinking about other experiences that have cropped up in my new relationship with Debbie and I am getting to know her family and friends. Patience, kindness and clearness are useful aspects of communication with anyone, especially someone you care for deeply. Debbie has told me several times that she does not always know when I am teasing her. Perhaps I should not do that at all. The ability to tease someone comes with trust and love and familiarity. Perhaps I should remember that I do not know what I do not know and err on the side of kindness and ease, not tease.

Everyday is a winding road. I get a little bit closer. – Sheryl Crow (Good poem/song – read the lyrics)

Carpe Diem.

Men Don’t Like Questions

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Men Do Not Like Questions and Women Need Reassurance

That is a tag line that provokes thought. Debbie said that to me in a conversation we were having about I do not know what. It struck me as so true to stereotype I stopped to write it down in my notes app on my phone.

I observed the stereotype at work in an extra class I taught this spring at the community college. A logistics difficulty with the school caused me to take over a class that had been started by another instructor.

Young men in their all knowing way can plunge off into the abyss of I don’t need any help/I got this. In this case a little extra knowledge is helpful. They were building a control panel for the semester project. For one the magic smoke leaked out of a component. This is never good in electrical work. The young women, there were three, were unsure of their abilities and were more cautious. One told me one day, “I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing.”

I wrote to her at the end of the class my thoughts about her performance in the lab project portion of class. I do this for all of my students. I have done this since my student teaching days. I think of teaching and instructing as guiding the students. Lecture implies an all knowing authoritative relationship. I do not have that style. I think it helps me to get to know and understand their abilities and how I can guide and help them succeed. Along the way I make notes about them in the hope of aiding the journey.

To Simara: I recognize that my taking over the course midstream was disruptive to you. In my short time with you and the rest of the class I took the time to observe a few things about each of you. I am writing this to you to report those observations and offer some unsolicited advice. I detect that you are unsure about many things both in this class and around you in life. That observation may be an incorrect one as I have only known you for a short time. And yet you were not afraid to admit it as you said, “I don’t feel like I know what I’m doing.” That admission is a bold thought and shows an intelligence beyond your years. The important thing is that you asked for help. You may not understand how well that ability will serve you through life but it is a very useful ability to ask for help. Not everyone can do that. Often they are worried about looking stupid and unknowledgeable.

The whole idea of this class is to gain some practical hands on experience, so at the end of our time together I wrote to everyone to tell them what I thought of the class as a whole and to thank them for the smooth transition. They gave me the impression that the previous instructor did not like to answer questions. That simple fact would explain why they were so tentative about asking for information about the project they were working on. And for the project they were working on, they had incomplete information.

This experience was not unlike several business experiences in which I was tossed into a project that was going awry with the wish of, see if you can fix it. Sometimes that means starting over midstream rapidly and using as much of the existing disaster as possible. Sometimes it means finding a new piece of paper and resharpening the pencil. I failed one young man, Sam, who raced ahead not knowing he had incomplete information.

Not only do men not like questions but they do not like asking questions. Women on the other hand ask lots of questions. Follow up questions, many follow up questions help to define the edges of the path to be taken. The path becomes clearer as the follow ups serve to sweep the leaves off the pavement.

Debbie does this to me. My usual response is, “Hmmmm…” while I am stalling for time to answer whatever she asked. Sometimes our banter wanders off into the weeds while I am thinking about what I am thinking about. (It is another comment of hers, “you are always thinking about what you are thinking about.”) She is right. I am not a spontaneous answer-er. I have several stall techniques.

She asks hard questions sometimes, often actually. Her questions are often feeling questions. The answers to which are very often hard to put into words. I will see her today. I look forward to our long conversations about life. She helps me to see how bright and cheery the world is even though Cheryl is not in it. For that I will be forever grateful.

Carpe Diem.

Toaster Ovens

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Far be it from me to criticize the American appliance industry but I often wonder what jumped into the engineering head of folks who decided a toaster oven was a much needed appliance.  Having a small oven is handy in its own way but why call it a toaster? Why temp us toast lovers with the ability to get warm morning toast when one actually gets the stale bread a week later.

Indeed toasted bread can be achieved in several different ways with one critical ingredient, great heat applied for a short or relatively short period of time. Toaster ovens are unable to do either. Generally they fit into the vast category of “Almost A Great Idea” or AAGI (aw-gee) for short. At one time in the past we owned a toaster oven which also had the ability to roast a chicken. It had a built in rotisserie gizmo to spear the chicken with and rotate through the meager heat source. (aw-gee) After much trial and error we determined that the timer needed to be able to set itself to much more than the 45 minutes on the dial. The heat source warm up is include in this time since it is not instant on. (Alas and aw-gee)

Many devices fit into AAGI. Instapots and Airfriers might be two more. But often it is fun and necessary to use a device with a small heat source that supplies invaluable cleaning expertise and practice.

Microwave ovens supply this valuable expertise as they are able to rapidly take water from liquid to gas in a rice-sized pocket spreading soup or any other suitable substance over the entire inner surface while keeping the rest of the bowl at the temperature of a standard refrigerator. They are remarkable devices. If you ever require rubberized eggs for any recipe, a low wattage microwave is just the perfect solution.

All of these thoughts came to over the past several days as I pondered another stale bread morning in my nephew’s beautiful, quaint and cute little bungalow in Port St. Joe, Florida. My sister and my girlfriend and I spent three wonderful days there this past week.

We drove in my car so we did not have the wonderful packing experience of making everything fit into one suitcase. We took our time. We stopped occasionally to look for best toilet facilities. We visited Bukee’s in Alabama. No soft serve ice cream at Bukee’s which is a sad state of affairs. (aw-gee) We stopped at the Shrimp Lady which claims to be restaurant-ish on Google Maps. It is not but we bought 2 pounds of shrimps as big as my thumb that came off the boat 20 – 30 minutes previously. Over the next couple of days we ate them as shrimp and cheesy grits, and shrimp with garlic, onion, green pepper and spaghetti with marinara and generous Parmesan cheese.

Did the two most important women in my life just bring me along to cook and drive the car? It was a great trip.

Back to the toaster oven. It is a fine device in its own way but entirely unsatisfactory for making toast in the morning. The Nespresso Virtuo, however, makes excellent coffee one cup at a time, every time, as long as the special pods and a water source are nearby. Foamy luxurious coffee.

We are back home in Ohio. The forsythia in the back is just opening itself. The daffodils are poking up and wondering what the forsythia can see that they cannot. The forest view through my window is greenish against the browns and grayness.

Daylight saving? Time is here. And as Debbie says, “the light is returning to the planet”

I am off to ponder a method of saving the daylight and fold the laundry from the trip.

Carpe Diem.

Wishes and Hope and Doubt

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HOPE IS A WISH

I use “Carpe Diem” as a sign off to posts that I put here. A few nights ago as Debbie and I were talking over the phone about random topics, she pointed out to me that for me the use of that phrase is a wish. I responded that I think of it as a motto and that spiraled my thought process into analyzing what that phrase meant to me and why I use it as a motto.

A motto is a brief sentence phrase or a single word used to express a principle, goal or ideal – a maxim. This is from my big dict (The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language) which I got from my mother many years ago. The online Merriam-Webster lists proverb as a synonym in their thesaurus section.

Debbie expressed the thought that I use it in the sense of a hope to remain in the present and to remain present to what life brings me. She is right again. I sometimes say to her teasingly that I hate it when she is right but I forget she studied sociological things in school.

Life or, as I like to think, the universal consciousness has brought Debbie into my life. She is a sounding board for ideas of mine and I am of hers. It is curious to me how similar and dissimilar our lives have been before we met. We attended the same schools. Her kiddos and my kiddos attended the same schools. Those are similarities. She chose psychology and sociological studies. I chose engineering, science and technological studies and later in life, education studies. Those are dissimilarities.

Engineers tend to think, plan, organize and prepare for some future activity – an installation, construction, machine, infrastructure – with things. I am always on the hunt for a manual to fix things (and situations), an extrinsic solution. Sociologists work with people – people as they are now. They help them to find their solutions within themselves.

Staying present is hard for me personally. So, seizing the current moment, especially when Cheryl’s disease was getting worse, finding something to do then at that moment, while she was doing good, became incredibly important. I constantly told myself, find what works today.

In that frame of mind I took myself to that first meet up with Debbie over coffee in a coffee house ran by a church group. I seized that moment, that fear of trying something new in my life, and pushed myself out of the doldrums of grief. You do not know if you are ready until you try it.

It worked. So far it is an ecstatic experience with Debbie; conversations about anything and everything, movies and dinner afterwards, fun little field trips, and just talking and flirting on the phone, she is special to me and at the same time I have a niggling fear of that happiness dissipating.

It is a fact that the last person I felt this way with is gone now. I cannot ignore that aspect. Debbie and I talk about that too.

We have now. My hope is our happiness will last until I am no longer. That idea is selfish. It is a wish, however. So far it is a wish fulfilled. (There is the niggling fear again.)

Carpe Diem.

Be It Resolved

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This time of year many make resolutions for the new year. Me too, of course. My resolution to myself is to be a better me. And I have no idea what that means. Yet, the idea that I want to be a better me implies I know myself now and there are improvements that can be made for the better.

Do we ever really know ourselves? How old does one have to be before acceptance as is becomes the norm?

This past year as I passed through three quarters of a century and Cheryl did not, I began to emerge from a deep funk, a depression, the sadness of her death, the gladness of her death, half a decade of overwhelming anxiety about her care and looked toward an open road and at the new sunrise and wondered, what next?

A new person entered my life who knows me only as me, a man, single, a writer that exposes his emotions to the world, who tries to be of service to others around him, and maybe shares too much of himself. She does not seem to mind my nuances of self. Like everyone I have many of those nuances, sides, aspects. We seem to fit.

Another resolution, perhaps a better one is; stay in the moment. Being a better me is a look into the past and attempting to improve. Staying in the moment is not looking back. Nor is it planning for some future that may not come. For now fitting is enough.

These are thoughts that come to me as I think about a new relationship.

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy. (Max Ehrmann)

Thanks Max for reminding me about life.

Carpe Diem.

At the End of the Day

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“No matter what happens between now and then, tomorrow is another day” said the news anchor on “The Day.” I think, “Absolutely and thank you mister obvious.” I suppose it was his intent to sound profound. Walter Cronkite used to end with, “And that’s the way it is…”

I started using Carpe Diem a few years ago at the end of my commentary as a way to remind myself of the potential available to us to use each day. And yet, at the end of the day I spend little time reporting to myself the high points of the day. I also do not focus on the low points.

There are many things to think about at the end of the day. Am I brave enough to love again? Am I too open with others? What great things happened today? What did I learn today? What should I think about avoiding if I can next time? At the very end, I push all those and others away by reading a novel. It is a habit I developed over the last few years. About half of the time it worked. I was tired and Cheryl was asleep or mostly so when I came to bed. These days it always works. I have also become a critic of some fiction that I have selected to entertain myself.

Before reading some novel or ones that are not novel at all to me, however, other actions take over my interest. I am in charge of myself and what I watch and what is entertainment and what is not. I was disappointed in the movie version of “Wicked” for example. I think there was a rush to get a snippet of a story onto the big screen that is in many ways incomplete. Money people for movie producers need a return of money to keep going. I think I was greatly disappointed. The singing was great but the story line went nowhere. I have some of these projects.

Quite often but not when I was working I did not finish some project. I have many of these little abandoned projects (mostly little electronic things) scattered on my work surface in my office. I have a pleasantly cluttered office and once in a while I straighten things for a bit in order to find a place for another soon to be abandoned gizmo. And yet through it all I am able to keep track of important actions that I need to do to take care of myself – pay bills, cook, shop for food, laundry – the mundane tasks of life. It may be that I am not so disorganized as I perceive myself to be.

Sometimes my blog is a stream of conscience construct. This may be one of those times.

Many people I have known were, or seemed so, very organized. I am not – at least in my mind I am not. Is it okay to be un-dis-mis-organized? (Cheryl was so good at organization.) The answer is yes. Mis-organization, as I like to call it, indicates to me that I am often not satisfied with the path I have taken to somewhere. Something does not feel quite right. I look at it as taking the next fork in the road. How many forks are there in my road? Where is this trip around the sun taking me?

It may be that I am merely constantly learning about myself and this new life without Cheryl.

Carpe Iter!

‘tis the beginning of The Season

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The bear got his hat out yesterday. Maybe his friend the elf will show up and help celebrate soon.

On this day, however, this day before Thanksgiving Day I am thinking about our life, Cheryl’s and mine, and what a gift it was to us. Tomorrow is the day to count blessings and be thankful for what we have. For me I am also thankful for what we had.

I do not have Cheryl with me any longer but what I have instead is the knowledge that she is not suffering with Parkinson and dementia. I am thankful for that knowledge.

I do have three well educated and successful children who have built successful careers. All of the grandchildren in all of the families are healthy and happy. Some have moved into careers themselves. Some are still figuring it out for themselves but they are all self reliant. Their parents are excellent teachers. I am thankful for the family Cheryl and I made.

I do have my own health. My knees do not hurt constantly like other friends that I have. My hips do not hurt when I walk like others that I know. I was still able to hike four miles up and down the face of a wooded cliff-side in Kentucky. (My legs complained a bit afterward but the bourbon worked. I bought real hiking boots when I returned home.) In the summertime I spent many days riding 15 – 20 miles on my bike. (I am not fast but I can keep up 12 – 15 mph for long stretches. I am not in a hurry. I like to look around me while I ride.) I would like to lose a little weight but my physic will probably never be like what I was at twenty-five now that I am seventy-five. I am thankful for my health.

My sister and I have become much closer. Only she and I are left from our original family. She and I are both widowed and that is sad but it seems like we lean on each other a bit and that is helpful to both of us. I am very thankful for our relationship.

I am thankful for all the help we received from friends and family this past year as Cheryl’s health rapidly declined. I am thankful to all the kind folks at Bridgeway Pointe and Queen City Hospice that took care of Cheryl as she faded. Thank you all.

I am thankful for new friends and old friends who have helped me through the past year.

I am thankful for kindness in the world.

I am thankful that mom taught me a few basic cooking techniques when I was younger and I did not realize she was doing it.

I am thankful that I like to cook and that I like my own cooking. (See the physic comment above.)

I am thankful that things always seem to work out.

I am thankful that I am getting better at staying in the present and not experiencing anxiety for the future. This quote from Matthew pops into my head sometimes (it is true!) when I think about what comes next. [“Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life? And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.”] I thank Cheryl for teaching me this concept of staying present and Mom for pointing out self-reliance goes hand in hand with that.

Mom left me with a gift that I will always be thankful for. I wrote this paragraph sometime ago:
At the very end of her life my mother awakened for a few minutes as I was sitting with her in her room at Bridgeway Pointe which is an assisted living community where she lived out the last fifteen months of her life. When I walked into her room Mom was quietly dozing in her bed. I sat in the usual chair I sat in and waited to see if she would awaken. It was after her dinner time and she often took a nap after dinner. After a few minutes, maybe half an hour, she woke up and looked over at me. She did not have her glasses on but she said, “Paul, is that you?” I replied, “Yes it’s me.” And then she said something that I was not expecting. She said, “Thank you for all your help.” After that she dozed off again. It was the last conversation I had with my mother. She passed away a couple days later. It still makes me cry.

I am thankful that I was helpful to Mom. She acknowledged that to me. All I could say to her was, “you’re welcome.” And I sat in her darkened room as she dozed off again.

We should always be thankful for what we have and what we have had and what we may be given. When someone is helpful to you, acknowledge it and say thanks to them. (Do not whine about it if they are unhelpful – reread the Matthew quote.)

Carpe Diem.

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

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.

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.