Happyness

Just let go of it

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Time to let it go?

In a discussion last evening about bread knives with my daughter, I admired the bread knife that I bought her for some occasion in the past after discovering that she did not have a large knife for slicing the bread I had made for it. The knife that I have and use at home is a knife that has been around since my childhood. I do not really know the detailed story but Mom and Dad had this knife in their kitchens through life and they used it to slice breads and cakes.

As a child I always thought of it as “The Knife”. It is not the knife I used as a child of six years or so to slice open the back of my left index finger. The Knife was made by Federal Cutlery Co. N. Y. That is stamped into the side of the blade. The handle however looks to be my father’s handiwork. He made a couple pieces of wrought iron furniture when he was in Hughes high school. It would not surprise me if he had repaired this knife at Hughes and kept it for my Mom. Or found it somewhere in New York when they lived there shortly after the war. I was a toddler then. I do not know the story. I should have asked when Dad was still alive.

It does not cut as well it once did. Perhaps it never really cut that well but because Dad had repaired the handle and injected his love into it, it had never been let go. That is where my discussion with Anna went as I was admiring her knife and how smoothly it sliced the Irish Soda bread I had made. Perhaps it was time to let “The Knife” go?

Maybe if Dad was still alive he would tell me he did not really like how the handle do-over turned out but Mom really liked it. Dad was always trying to find the right gift for Mom. This was especially true on her birthday and Christmas. I went shopping with him a couple times. Looking back, he had a mechanical man’s sense of what would be the perfect gift but he loved her dearly.

The Knife will still be in the knife drawer but underneath the new bread knife I ordered identical to the one Anna has. The Knife and I have history together.

There are other things such as these that I have let go or am working on letting go. Some are physical, some are attitudes, some are worries.

Carpe Diem

It was My Own Fault

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It was my fault. I thought it would be a good thing to take her shopping. The target was J C Penney. The goal was towels. In retrospect I could have selected a different path through the store. The Men’s clothing aisle also leads to the home part of the store. (An AHA moment.)

She found a purse and looked at wallets but none were satisfactory. Or maybe I was an ache in the posterior. She told me she never gets to go shopping very much anymore. She is right. I probably also help guide her maybe more than I should.

From a male perspective this was worse than looking at a menu in an unfamiliar restaurant. It was overwhelming choices of color and style.

We did find towels and a bathmat. In the home area she told me that she likes bold colors. She selected a sort of hunter green, harvest gold and creamy white. She ignored the fuscia, orange, purple and tomato red. Our bathrooms are light green.

Carpe Diem.

More Food Therapy

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The trips to restaurants continue.

On Wednesday March first which is the first day of Spring in my mind and always will be, we went to Ruth’s Parkside Cafe.

At 2PM in the afternoon there is little activity. There were a couple other gray hairs there enjoying the nice weather. The weather has been pretty mild this winter. There is a line in the “Bob hearts Abishola” show on CBS where Bob blames global warming on Al Gore because before him we were just enjoying the really mild winters in Detroit. It makes me laugh but I kind of agree.

The daffodils in the back are in full bloom. They are early this year.

Cheryl had a BLT bagel. I had a red bean burrito. The Cafe has an eclectic menu. For dessert the waitress was apologetic because they were out of pie so I selected gooey butter cake and two forks. I have linked a recipe that I found for this delightful dessert. It was the highlight of our day. Cheryl talked about the cake all the way home.

Carpe the restaurant Diem.

A New Idea – Restaurant(ing)

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A week and a half ago we stopped at an old Dixie Highway landmark called the Greyhound Tavern. We had passed it several times going to and fro when visiting her cousin Gerry in hospice. On our way home from our last visit with Gerry we stopped there at about prime gray hair eating time.

The reason was made up but we had a good time. Sherri had asked in conversation whether I thought the fried chicken at Greyhound Tavern was as good or better than the Purple Poulet where we had eaten a few weeks before. Well, everyone has their own personal likes and dislikes about comfort food. Cheryl’s mother made fried chicken and we ate it cold on a picnic in June in 1969. It was delightful. My aunt Johanna made fried chicken along with a lot of other stuff for Sunday dinner at her farm in Indiana. It was delightful. Long ago we had the KFC’s original recipe at the first place that Colonel Harland David Sanders opened in Corbin Kentucky. It has a little museum attached. It was delightful. (I have always liked original recipe.) But while I thought that the fried chicken at Greyhound was good, the chicken at the Purple Poulet was excellent.

While we were awaiting the arrival of our meal, we split the chicken since neither of us can eat half a chicken anymore, Cheryl said that we could visit various restaurants in Cincinnati and the surrounding area and eat lunch there. This is an excellent idea I replied. Let’s do it.

Today we did. Today’s choice was the Sweet Heart Cafe in Colerain township. We have been there before but it has been a year or so. There are actually about three stores operating out of this store front – a bakery, a cafe/diner, a clothing shop. It has a very unique ambiance and they make their own jams and preserves.

We brought home pie for dessert tonight or maybe the whole dinner.

A good list to start with.

Carpe – the diner – Diem.

It’s Just Laundry

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It used to bug me a little bit if Cheryl leaked out over night. But one day I said to myself what is the big deal. It’s just laundry.

It is now another mantra for me. Much like Carpe Diem (seize the day or seize the moment) after repeatedly saying mottoes like this out loud or not, it changes your mind about whatever is bugging you. Out loud is better.

Psychiatrists and psychologists call this cognitive talk therapy. It works for many situations. The important part is to keep doing it even if you do not think it is working for you. Eventually you will convince yourself.

After I wrote the initial thoughts I had on this topic of changing your attitude to be positive, I tripped over this article by Rachel Feintzeig in the Monday Jan 23 edition of the WSJ. It intrigued me. Naturally there is an app for that. I used to think that it was better to be a pessimist and be surprised by events than to be an optimist and be disappointed by events. This is summed up by the dismissive and sometimes arrogant, we’ll see comment that is spoken by pessimistic personalities.

An added bonus to reading Ms. Feintzeig’s article is that I learned a new albeit made up word: pronoid. A friend of her’s made it up and explained it to be the opposite of paranoid. He believed the world to be conspiring in his favor.

Pronoid – a situation where your surrounding friends and environment join forces to make your existence better than at first perceived. (I like it.)

Overnight urinary incontinence can be really inconsistent and inconvenient but in the end a load of laundry solves it. Cheryl lately is losing interest in her exercise classes that she used to like, I try to bump her into some other physical activity. Take a walk, go shopping which is also a walk, or something. Outside is best but sometimes the weather does not cooperate. Carpe the moment. I try to read her mood and find something that is not in our condo.

It does not always work but activity is best. Sedentary is less than best.

And Carpe the laundry diem.

A Great Time

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We went out with friends to a new restaurant. We had to be seated on the second floor. There was a ladies room on the second floor.

What a relief it was to us both.

Not the most appropriate opening to a story about going out to dinner with friends but parkinson makes the very small things in life into major obstacles. Those need not be obstacles but they can win out in the “Is it hard? v. Is it easy?” tug-of-war that enters the discussion whenever any social activity happens.

I have written about women’s restrooms and some of those experiences. This is not a blog post about that. This is a story about how truly graceful are friends that Cheryl and I have in our life and have had for half a century. It starts with an email from Jan in early December proposing that we gather for dinner somewhere for our annual holiday gathering. Cheryl used to refer to this group as the defunct bridge group because although we used to play bridge at our gatherings, over time we simply gathered for a meal and socialization.

Jan suggested a few dates in January and suggested collecting at her house or a restaurant somewhere. I immediately voted for a restaurant somewhere for two reasons; it puts the eventual clean-up in someone else’s bailiwick, it gets Cheryl into a social situation were she does not believe she is a burden to anyone. (Grace on Cheryl’s part, she does not want to be a burden.) And besides, Gary and Jan go to restaurants that we might never pick just because of unfamiliarity. She picked the Purple Poulet in Newport Kentucky.

In a later email after Jan had confirmed the reservation, she wrote that we would be seated upstairs and asked if that would be a problem to anyone (grace – Jan did not single us out). I did not respond to her email because upstairs by itself is unimportant. It does tell me what equipment I might need. It also tells me that I need to call the restaurant to understand restroom facilities which I did not do. (no grace for me) Somehow with our narrow life activities, I never got around to calling the Purple Poulet and asking about ladies restrooms. I am not shy about that idea merely incompetent in this instance.

Yesterday was January 20th, the day that had been previously selected for our dinner gathering. Sherry called to ask if we would like to come to her house late in the afternoon for a drink and we would leave from her house to go to the restaurant which was a thirty minute drive through the center of town. (Grace on Sherry’s part for offering extra time to socialize and catch up.) Sherry has a sister who also has parkinson as a part of her life. Her sister is living in an institutionalized setting but Sherry spends a good amount of her time there. Cheryl is comfortable in conversation with Sherry and Sherry understands Cheryl’s difficulty with mobility and mental agility.

After I accepted Sherry’s invitation, we discussed restaurant steps, parking arrangements and restrooms facilities and, oh bye the way, if steps and restrooms were a problem, why did I not speak up? (She left out – you fool!) Sherry is too polite for that last part. She did start dialing the phone. Pretty soon it was all settled. We would meet at her house and ride to the restaurant in Gary’s GMC Acadia. (Grace to Gary and Sherry.) Sherry suggested that if the Ladies was downstairs which was my fear, we would just deal with it at arrival. (More grace to Sherry – her words – I’ll just tell Cheryl I have to go and we’ll go together when we get there.)

I managed to get Cheryl to Sherry’s house before everyone so that I could put our car deep into her driveway and out of the way. I was successful and the evening was all set. Denny and Katy arrived a few minutes after us. Gary and Jan arrived shortly thereafter. Sherry had drinks and snacks. For an hour or so we were surrounded by just friends not Parkinson. What a relief it was to us both.

It is not often that we acknowledge the kindness and graciousness in our life. There is no excuse for that. Many explanations but no excuse. This group of friends surrounded us with love and kindness and helpfulness and grace. For a few hours we, Cheryl and I, could just be. (Thank you, all.)

About the Purple Poulet; I linked their website to the first mention of them above. For me at least and I think Cheryl would agree it was a great dining experience. The restroom on the second floor was marked Ladies on the door near our table but was in fact a well appointed handicapped restroom. I have been in many. I know.

The steps turned twice and had handrails on both sides. If there is no elevator the next best thing is handrails on both side of the steps and a gentle slope to the stairway. Up is never a problem for Cheryl. Down, however, is a perceptual problem as well as a physical one. A short gentle run of steps is much less intimidating than a long or steep straight run. (grace to the stairway designer.) I have not gone down a set of steps with Cheryl forward for many years. (Sherry managed the walker while I was helping Cheryl manage the steps down – grace to Sherry.)

We both had their chicken. On their website they claim “The Best Fried Chicken by Southern Living” – It was the best fried chicken I have had in quite awhile.

This morning Cheryl is still sleeping. I am not but I should have skipped that second glass of Robt. Mondavi that I allowed myself because I was not driving to and from the restaurant. (no grace to me – grace to Gary for driving)

Carpe – the best fried chicken – Diem.

And surrounded by grace is another reason to stay connected.

Grace to you, Denny, Katy, Jan, Sherry and Gary for letting us simply be us.

Pizza Tuesday

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An old tradition of ours is pizza Tuesday. I know. I know it is supposed to be taco Tuesday but neither of us are super huge fans of tacos. Although if we wind up at a Mexican restaurant and there are some very good ones in the Cincinnati area, Cheryl will order tacos. Some of the Hello Fresh meals are Latin American in flavors. Neither of us grew up with that but the La Rosa family has been in business for sometime and some scenes from the Rain Man use Pompellio’s as back drop. Sorry I have digressed again.

We used to frequent a small pizza joint nearby (run by a family of German dissent or Latvian if the spelling is different) that we liked. We tried several nights during the week and ultimately landed on Tuesday as the least crowded. It stuck. Over time it became “Anything Goes Pizza Tuesday” because sometimes one would rather have a hoagie or a hero sandwich or a calzone or maybe just a salad. Cheryl did not care as long as there was pepperoni somewhere. The only exception being a steak hoagie sandwich reminiscent of Pasquale’s. Sadly, the Pasquale’s of our childhood is no longer.

Lately we have moved Anything-Goes-Pizza-Tuesday to a newer use of an old italian restaurant near where we live. They opened just before the pandemonium and we supported them with carry out orders during the shutdown.

Pizza Tuesday has developed into a social affair with friends and neighbors. Sometimes Cheryl’s family shows up. Sometimes anything goes.

On this particular night Cheryl’s cousin Donna showed up. We had been trying to get together and on a whim I called her and invited her to Strong’s Brick Oven Pizzeria. She came. My cousin’s widow, Linda showed up. We had a great conversation. We got home later than we usually did. Sadly, we had no leftovers and that is too bad.

It was a time to connect and make new connections. The pizza Tuesday reminder list is getting longer. Cheryl had a good time and told stories.

Carpe pizza Tuesday Diem.

Inspiration in Song and Poetry

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I often find hope and inspiration in song and poetry. Today while reading blogs of others I tripped over this from Filosofa’s Word. Kermit and his rainbow song.

To me and I suppose many, poetry and song are the same thing. A song with a melody that is catchy enables a poor poem to live. A sweet expressive poem often needs no accompaniment. Sometimes the music is first and inspires the poem. Sometimes the poem is first and inspires the melody.

A favorite poem Desiderata sort of sums up life. It has no metre. It follows a prose format. I find it to be calming to my heart. I have not read it for a while but reading Jill’s blog page about caused me to do that today.

Carpe Diem and keep connected to everyone around you.

New Year’s Day

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We had a great visit from all the kids and many of the grandkids. On New Year’s Eve I spontaneously asked our children if they had anything special planned for New Year’s Day. I asked if not would they like to gather around our table for a meal in the afternoon. I suggested about 4-ish. They all said yes.

I stole this idea from Frank C. Church. Thank you, Frank for a spontaneously good time.

Who can tell? Maybe a new family tradition? Traditions have to start somewhere. They are kept up if everyone has a good time participating. Zachary certainly had a good time. He had not seen grandma’s marble race before so Mom and Gavin helped him put it together.

Most importantly Cheryl got to have everyone at her house. She smiled and laughed at the conversation and activity. It was simply wonderful to see her smile.

Her smile and laughter are less as we head on our journey of Parkinson. Yesterday was very special to her and to me.

Carpe Diem. And don’t forget to connect!