writing

A Couple More Days

Posted by

0

Seems like every time I want to close my eyes for a small little tiny nap some health person is encouraging me to get up and move around.

Today the occupational therapist had a gap in her schedule and just as I pushed my chair back to NAP position the phone ran.

May I come and assess your functionality? Sure why not. I will be here.

It actually makes me laugh. All the attention about a little thing like cardiac arterial bypass graft surgery. CABG “cabbage” is the term used by the cutters. All week long I have kind of complained a little that I did not feel all that bad and that is true. Most of that seems to be due to something described as a freezing nerve block that will wear off over time as my body heals.

Every day is a bit better and today is much better.

Today on the way home from the cardiothorasic surgery visit we stopped at one of my favorite diner chili parlors to get a 5-way for lunch. If you live in southwest Ohio you do not need more description.

Carpe Diem.

Days Four and Five

Posted by

0

Fourth day and Home

Open heart surgery – cracked open my chest – the whole thing – has come a long way since Mom had it many years ago.

I woke up about 9pm after surgery on Friday. The breathing specialist took the plastic tube out of my mouth and lungs. A little one, two, three and its out. Wow I am hoping to never have that experience again. There were four other drain tubes still in. two around my lungs, two around my heart. And to keep with the twos I had a double bypass.

I could talk so the first thing I did was call Debbie when the night nurse whose name was Austin gave me the phone it was great to hear her voice and I knew she would sleep better knowing that I was still my annoying self. I thought she would spread the word that Paul was back.

What a long slog this will be. The nurses and physical therapy folks – Emma and Amy – don’t leave you alone. The first day was simply sit in a hospital recliner chair until its too much. And they talked about keeping my elbows near my body, move in the tube is phrase that they use to help you remember. When they cut your pectoral muscles and your breast bone apart, your body tells you. There is that little pulling sensation in your chest that says – hey, hey, hey we are are healing down here – that will remind you to be careful.

On the Fifth day

What a remarkable feeling it is to sleep in one’s own bed. There is the added bonus of not getting poked in the arm somewhere at 3:15AM because they need another blood test. The chest x-rays at 5AM were also reduced to none at home.

I am truly amazed at my own progress.

I think I will stop here but God taught me two things; exercise is good for all recovery and do not ignore chest pain. I do have a greater appreciation of life.

Carpe Diem.

Screwtape and Lent

Posted by

0

Our pastor decided that it might be fun to read The Screwtape Letters by C. S. Lewis for a Lenten exercise this year. Having read that in high school along with “Out of the Silent Planet” and “Paralandra”, I thought it might be a kick.

C. S. Lewis in the guise of Screwtape, a master devil mentoring his nephew and apprentice devil, Wormwood, writes near the end of chapter 13, paragraph 4: … The man who truly and disinterestedly enjoys any one thing in the world, for its own sake, and without caring two-pence what other people say about it, is by that very fact forearmed against some of our subtlest modes of attack. You should always try to make the patient (human subject) abandon the people or food or books he really likes in favor of the ‘best’ people, the ‘right’ food, the ‘important’ books….

That particular passage struck me right my prefrontal cortex. It was a bright sunny warm(ish) day in March. There are not many of those in Ohio. The Screwtape discussion group was scheduled for 1PM. I put my Trek in the back of the car and went to my favorite spot and rode 6 miles. There is something very special about early spring/late winter rides. They are infrequent and special. The book discussion was not in the category of “disinterestedly enjoyable”. I thought it would be a kick. It was not.

On the weekend prior to this book discussion meeting, we had met with friends for lunch and after lunch it was our plan to visit a small independent book store nearby. Debbie likes book stores. So do I actually but generally I am satisfied to patiently wait for the latest and greatest ‘important’ books from the library. Sometimes my wait is long enough that I do not remember why or who put me onto the title that magically appears in my holds queue at the nearby branch of the library. In this little book store I noticed a little book by Sarah Knight entitled “the life changing magic of not giving a f*ck”. The title alone made me laugh and I picked it up, turned to a random page and read, 7. Calculus. This may be my earliest recorded instance of not giving a fuck. My high school guidance counselor insisted …. I needed this for getting into college…. I did not take the class. I did get into Harvard.” That paragraph made me laugh and I bought the book.

I took calculus in high school. I also took it in college since the one I went to did not recognize the high school credit. Engineering students get a lot of math. Physics folks get more. Technical fields generally have statistical math of one sort or another. I do give a fuck about math.

Sarah’s book is much more interesting than “The Screwtape Letters”. The language is a bit crude but it captures the sentiment of, “abandon the people or food or books he really likes in favor of the ‘best’ people, the ‘right’ food, the ‘important’ books” succinctly. In life there is often (maybe always) someone to report to you what wine pairs with what food. There is, no doubt, also a YouTube video about wine pairings. If those things are important to you then you should give a fuck to it whatever it may be.

Be present to your own ideas, thoughts, morality, ethics. Educate yourself to your needs not other’s wants. Believe in yourself and as the Max Ehrmann quote goes, ” 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….”

Carpe Diem.

In a Dream

Posted by

1

I do not think I have told this story here before.

I have told it to others, just not here.

I am not a big believer in dream experiences but several months after Cheryl left this existence she visited me in an early morning dream. The dream was so vivid it stays with me as a memory something that I lived through. I did not but my brain did live through it and it is still with me many months later. I remember it upon occasion to reinforce the connections between the neurons.

Here is what happened.

There was a gathering at our church. My memory of why we were gathering is unclear even now but that is not the important part of this story. For this particular gathering, however, we had been instructed (requested?) to bring our own chairs. I remember thinking in the dream that this was an odd request because our church had just replaced all the pews. They were relatively new. Still shiny with new varnish there were few sticky spots where the small children had been. But that was the need expressed so we took our newish recliners with us to the church that night.

My memory of how they got there is foggy at best. It involves something about the car which I think morphed into a moving van just for this excursion.

The scene that is vivid in my experience is this one. The service and gathering was over and we sat up to go. We had been reclining which was why we brought the recliners with us. Many others had brought their recliners also. As we were organizing ourselves to leave, Cheryl announced, “I have to go!” which I took to mean – go to the ladies room. For the previous couple years every time we left a restaurant or any event she felt the need of a toilet. I had visited many public “Women” in many restaurants as she bumped her way into the restroom and stall and occasionally got stuck in one. It did not occur to me that “go” meant any other meaning to her. My response to my wife of five decades was, “okay I’ll wait here until you return.”

I stood and watched her mingle with the rest of the crowd who had by this time started to exit with their chairs. The crowd generally swirled around our spot as they made their way to the exit. The lady’s room was near the exit but out of my view. Cheryl was moving really good. She was moving without the aid of a walker or a cane. She was moving like her old self. She was moving with determination toward what I thought was the toilet. She was shuffling between people and chairs towards the exit. She was not touching anything and she did not hesitate.

Still in the back of my thoughts I was not certain she could find her way back. Sometimes she was unaware of her surroundings and lacked direction. In restaurants and stores I would hover near the restroom door and occasionally open it a crack and ask her if she was doing okay. She had been gone long enough that I thought she might be in that predicament.

I started to maneuver the chairs toward the exit and hang around near the restroom door. As I was beginning this process a young man that I had not met before approached me and asked if He could help me with the chairs. At first I thought to say no. I was sure Cheryl could help when she came back. She was moving really well that day. But He was persistent and I explained that I was waiting for Cheryl to return from the lady’s room and she might have difficulty finding me if I took the chairs all the way to the car. He looked at me with a face full of compassion and sympathy and responded with, “She is not coming back. She has left. She is doing okay. I will help you.”

This dreamy experience comes to me at odd times of the day, not every day but often. Today as I sit here in my office writing this post I can see this scene. She has just disappeared around the corner into the crowd and a small anxiety shows up to make me worry that she cannot find her way back to where I am. A young man with curly frizzy hair approaches to help me. Who is this guy?

Cheryl had been struggling with cognition and awareness for sometime before she eventually succumbed to dementia and disorientation. I helped her into and out of the car, into and out of church, into and out of the restroom, into and out of bed, into and out of the doctor’s office. Who was this young man? Over many recalls of this image at the end of whatever happened in church, I have come to believe that he was Cheryl’s guardian angel. She sent him back to me to tell me she was okay now. She was without any pain or disorientation or other encumberment. She was where she belonged. I did not need to worry or be anxious about her. I am not.

I awakened that morning in my lounger in the living area of my house. Sometime during the night I had trouble sleeping and had moved to the living room to read for a bit and await slumber to return. Most likely the shape of the lounger cradling my body triggered the dream but that image is very vivid. I could then and still can hear her voice. “I have to go!” she said. I have let her go. I do not see the young man except in this context but imagine angels differently. I see her angel in other people.

I have come to believe with conviction that she visited me to convince me that she is okay and happy where she is now. Why else would she visit me in a dream?

Carpe Diem.

Snacks And

Posted by

0

Here’s a thing…

Today I was experimenting with an old hobby. In the middle of the afternoon during that activity I thought a cup of coffee and maybe a couple cookies. About that same time a notice from AARP popped up on my phone with the lead question ‘How much should you weigh?’ Holy cow what a buzz kill.

I became interested in calorie counts. Those little labels required by the FDA or whoever that describe how little protein is in each cookie and yet each supplies enough sugar to make them edible. What about peanut butter? What about Nutella? The cookies I selected are McVitie’s digestives. 160 calories for two of them. I refer to this serving size as the minimum daily requirement. In reality much like Lay’s potato chips, one cannot eat just one. One cannot eat just two. There were five left in the box and they are all in me now.

Later on I had some peanut butter too. This was plain old Our Family peanut butter. I happen to like the house brand at the close by IGA. Jif is good too but why pay more for the same amount of calories? 180 calories in two tablespoons full. Nutella has more calories still but for the same amount of substance. I have tried substitute brands of Nutella but it is just not the same. Both of these need spreading on something. I prefer toast in both cases but a cracker of some sort works in a pinch. 180 calories as a minimum daily intake is a sham unless you are licking a spoon.

Gluten free that way.

Carpe Diem.

A Summer Day in Winter and other Thoughts

Posted by

0

A Summer Day

Who made the world?

Who made the swan, and the black bear?

Who made the grasshopper?

This grasshopper, I mean —

the one who has flung herself out of the grass,

the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,

who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —

who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.

Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.

Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.

I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.

I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down

into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,

how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,

which is what I have been doing all day.

Tell me, what else should I have done?

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?

Tell me, what is it you plan to do

with your one wild and precious life?

These words by Mary Oliver send my thoughts in many directions. The last two lines seem to be very popular with the counted cross stitch and embroidery set. These are words of inspiration to the young.

The previous two lines “Tell me, what else should I have done? Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?” seem a lament for the old. We tell ourselves, we have lived life as best we thought at the time.

Do I have regrets? “Tell me, what else should I have done?” hides in the back of other thoughts. What could I have done different that would put me in a better place today? How would I define “better place”?

Grief, that missing another, that emptiness for love’s object, that restless lonely, that longing, is often with me at seemingly random times. It will always be there. It is smoother on some days. I noticed this past evening as I talked to my son that I could tell stories and talk about Cheryl without choking up. Cheryl and I had many great times.

In the now, my son and his wife are splitting. My girlfriend’s daughter is very ill. She is hospitalized with an undefined infection. My girlfriend’s youngest son has split with his significant other and that is a remarkable similarity to my son’s situation. He has snapped back to his savior and supporter, Mom. (She has pushed him out of the nest several times. It is hard (but time) for him to fly on his own.) I have interest and concern for all of these people in my life. They give me a place to send my love and support.

“Tell me, what else couldI do?” is a question I ask of myself but it is an unfair question. Simply being present to other’s needs and being there as they sort through their difficulties is enough. I do not volunteer a solution if I have one. It would be my solution, not their solution. The same heartfelt commitment would not be there. (My mother would say, ‘Pull up your socks!’, which was her way of saying you have to be the designer of your own way out, otherwise you are not committed to it.)

My son is staying with me in the guest bedroom while he sorts through moving vehicles, furniture and just plain stuff accumulated over time to his new rental digs.

Debbie’s daughter is in the best hospital in town. They are committed to finding out what is wrong in her anatomy and doing their best to fix it or mitigate it.

Debbie’s son has a short term solution for housing and a wonderful employer that seems committed to his success. Maybe her consultation support is of greater value to him than monetary support. Maybe he will come to understand that. Maybe he will be able to move on from this former girlfriend who suddenly turned physically violent toward him. Maybe he will realize what he feels is grief of a sort for a lost relationship.

I do know how to pay attention, and listen and offer advice when asked and pray that God will provide a stable solution to the currently evolving dilemmas.

Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon? If not die, at least, stop?

Maybe not soon enough? Was that snarky?

I love them all.

Carpe Diem.

Morning Routines

Posted by

0

We all have morning routines. Mine centers around finding coffee and reading the news while I listen to the newsy shows on TV. When Tera comes on to tell me the weather of the past in the present and for the future, I listen. Her enthusiasm captures my interest for a moment. I turn my attention to the puzzles in the New York Times. Wordle solved I turn my attention to the Connections.

Lately the connections puzzle has me staring at the final category (purple) to discover the connection before I click submit.

This is Monday. The empty trash bin needs to return to its special place in the garage. I often return my neighbor’s bin to its special place.

While in the midst of this early routine I scan my emails and look at other bloggers that I follow. Proverbs27Flocks writes about a gluten free chocolate banana bread recipe. I have some bananas getting ready in the fruit bowl. I want to try his recipe later in the week.

Morning routine get me going.

Some use prayer and meditation. I use this time to write and think about what will come.

Today Debbie and I will visit the tow yard where her daughter’s car landed after going slippy slidey in the ice and snow one day while we were enjoying the Florida sunshine.

Right now, however, more coffee is required.

Carpe Diem.

Thoughts

Posted by

0

I bought a cocotte from King Arthur’s baking. A few weeks ago I re-interested myself in sourdough bread and other similar recipes. Although I used my dutch oven for this in the past I felt the need to up my game.

The cocotte is red and made by Staub in France. Ou la la – but here is an intriguing thought – check out these definitions from and online dictionary and Merriam Webster’ online dictionary:

co·cotte – (/kōˈkät,kəˈkät/)

noun: cocotte; plural noun: cocottes; noun: en cocotte; plural noun: en cocottes — a small heatproof dish in which individual portions of food can be cooked and served; a Dutch oven.

And M-W

cocotte (kȯ-ˈkȯt)

noun: Definition of cocotte: as in prostitute; a woman who engages in sexual activities for money

Those are very different definitions. M-W gives examples of use in a sentence;

The skillets, cocottes, braisers, and baking dishes are all oven-safe and come in a uniform matte black finish. — Clint Davis, People.com, 15 Mar. 2025; The dishes available in the Gourmand collection include cocottes (with and without lids), mini braisers (with and without lids), oval bakers, rectangular bakers, and skillets. — Sophia Beams, Better Homes & Gardens, 27 Feb. 2025; Get some cute the itty-bitty pans, like GreenPan mini egg pan, or a tiny cocotte from the maker of our favorite Dutch ovens (these are perfect for baked eggs). — Wilder Davies, Bon Appétit, 16 July 2024; At under $100, this adorable cocotte set won’t break the bank. — Amber C. Snider, Peoplemag, 25 May 2024

Down the rabbit hole I went. One is a pot. The other is a word for the ladies that General Joe Hooker, coincidentally buried in Spring Grove Cemetery in Cincinnati, brought to his troops to be assured that his men were satisfied in every way. (You can laugh.)

From the American Heritage Dictionary – affectionately known by me as the big dic – a clue! The etymological entry writes – French – originally a baby’s word for hen.

AHA! The connection between available females and chicken pots. One of the recipe photos included with the pot shows a roasted chicken in the pot.

Off to find recipes for my new pot to christen its use, I found this one I had saved previously:

Old-Fashioned Beef Stew – By Molly O’Neill – Updated Sept. 30, 2024

Ingredients (Yield:4 servings)

  • • ¼ cup all-purpose flour
  • • ¼ teaspoon freshly ground pepper
  • • 1 pound beef stewing meat, trimmed and cut into inch cubes
  • • 5 teaspoons vegetable oil
  • • 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
  • • 1 cup red wine
  • • 3½ cups beef broth, homemade or low-sodium canned
  • • 2 bay leaves
  • • 1 medium onion, peeled and chopped
  • • 5 medium carrots, peeled and cut into ¼-inch rounds
  • • 2 large baking potatoes, peeled and cut into ¾-inch cubes
  • • 2 teaspoons salt

Step 1 – Combine the flour and pepper in a bowl, add the beef and toss to coat well. Heat 3 teaspoons of the oil in a large pot. Add the beef a few pieces at a time; do not overcrowd. Cook, turning the pieces until beef is browned on all sides, about 5 minutes per batch; add more oil as needed between batches.

Step 2 – Remove the beef from the pot and add the vinegar and wine. Cook over medium-high heat, scraping the pan with a wooden spoon to loosen any browned bits. Add the beef, beef broth and bay leaves. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a slow simmer.

Step 3 – Cover and cook, skimming broth from time to time, until the beef is tender, about 1½ hours. Add the onions and carrots and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes. Add the potatoes and simmer until vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes more. Add broth or water if the stew is dry. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Ladle among 4 bowls and serve.

Sadly, I am out of onions and potatoes. I purposely used them up before going to Florida two weeks ago. I will go shopping very soon. Stew seems like a good idea when it is cold outside.

This is fancier than my stew but it is my new cocotte.

Carpe Diem.

Little Women

Posted by

0

I stood on the scale and as luck would have it, no weight loss and no weight gain either.

Huh. Alas. Alack. Oh whoa is me. Or is it?

The new snow is coating the grass.

The early morning sky is azure blue as the sun blazes near the eastern horizon.

The chilly birds are dive bombing Jane’s feeder next door.

It is a new day!

These thoughts come to me in rapid fire as I awaken more fully while drinking my coffee and thinking about the previous evening. The play “Little Women” was excellent. The production itself is a co-production, a special partnership between two theaters working on a single play. The play was staged first in Portland and then here in Cincinnati. Debbie and I went to see it last night during one of our field trips. The play itself tells the stories within Little Women but focuses on Louisa May Alcott as a writer and her life.

At intermission we had a conversation with a younger man seated next to us. He asked how longer we had been together. I responded with “about a year and a half.” I did not think much of it but Debbie picked up on the fact that he thought I was joking. Debbie talked to him for a bit and found out that he was from out of town.

Later as we drove home she told me that he thought we had been together for a long time, an easy assumption to make since we are both older. When she corrected his notion he was interested in our story. Her synopsis of us meeting later in life interested him.

Yesterday was a pleasant day. The play was well done.

There have been many instances now where total strangers have commented on the love and affection vibe that they perceive between us.

I feel that way about Debbie and she feels that way about me.

It shows.

Carpe Diem.

Friday

Posted by

0

This day of the week has over time become special to me and to Debbie and I.

Last year the part time teaching job I had with a local community college involved maintaining an open lab on Wednesday and Thursday evenings as well as Tuesday mornings. Debbie works in her profession on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday also. I remarked once to her that our Friday came on Thursday, so our Saturday came on Friday. It was our day of relaxation, dinner or lunch and other dates.

The movie theaters are very uncrowded on Fridays. Sometimes in our favorite theater us and one other couple are watching the film. I like that.

When I bought tickets to the play we are going to see tonight I specifically picked the Friday performance.

When we started dating, that term seemed foreign to me. I referred to our outings as field trips. I think, I am certain, I was hunting for a term that would not hurt Cheryl’s feelings. Cheryl had passed on from this earthly existence but then as now she is still in my heart. Field trip is a term Debbie and I still use to describe our date activities. Much like a term of endearment it is a code, a phrase with a personal meaning for being together and enjoyment of an activity.

“We need a field trip.” she will say. My reply is yes we do and off we go to dinner and a movie or something.

Today the field trip is an afternoon luncheon and later this evening the play at Cincinnati’s Playhouse in the Park. The performance is “Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women” an adaptation by playwright Lauren M. Gunderson. I am looking forward to it for several reasons. It is coming to Cincinnati directly from Portland where my sister lives. Some of the actors are from there. I could not get through the book earlier in my life so I am inclined to find it in the library and read it again to see if my reading tastes have changed as I grow older. However, the real reason is that I have an opportunity to spend time with Debbie.

We will talk and muse about the past week. We will discuss Florida again. It is currently snowing in our part of the world so we will complain a bit about that. Afterward we will discuss the play itself over a glass of wine and maybe a snack.

We are going tonight because our trip to Florida bumped this play from our schedule last week. Another field trip is what we both need during this snowy season in Ohio.

We could stay in and whine about the weather or we could ignore it and rejoice in life and its pleasurable attributes. Soon the snow will be over.

Snow-mageddon be damned. We are going to the play.

Carpe Diem.