Fresh Brewed Coffee

Warm from the oven cookies.
A little sewing.
A lot of reading.
An afternoon nap.
Some days are just better than others.

Wise Words

This weekend I am busy with odds and ends of Suzy Homemaker type stuff.  All of those little things that, when they beg to be done, you respond by putting them of until tomorrow.  Well, tomorrow has arrived.

So in lieu of an actual post, I give you the following.  I may have posted this earlier.  Can't remember.  But if I did, it is worth repeating.

"The Wisdom of Tecumseh"

"So live your life so the fear of death can never enter your heart. Trouble no one about their religion; respect others in their views, and demand that they respect yours. Love your life, perfect your life, beautify all things in your life. Seek to make your life long and of service to your people. Always give a word or sign of salute when meeting or passing a stranger if in a lonely place. Show respect to all people, but grovel to none. When you arise in the morning, give thanks for the light, for your life and strength. Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living. If you see no reason for giving thanks, the fault lies in yourself. Touch not the poisonous firewater that makes wise ones turn to fools and robs them of their visions. Prepare a noble death song for the day when you go over the great divide. When your time comes to die, be not like those whose hearts are filled with fear of death, so that when their time comes they weep and pray for a little more time to live their lives over again in a different way. Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home."
- Tecumseh

Hope your weekend is just what you want it to be.

Praying for Snow

Yeah, I know.  Unless you are a huge fan of outdoor winter sports, the very last thing a Minnesotan does is pray for snow.  Under normal conditions, most of us are praying for it to just please go away.

But.....these are not normal conditions.

In the fall of the year the city street maintenance crews are busy.  Over the summer cracks have appeared in the streets.  If left unattended, water will get into these cracks, freeze, expand and we will have potholes the size of Connecticut by the time spring arrives.  I completely understand why the cracks in the streets can not go unattended.

Before these cracks can be filled in, the crews use a machine to cut the asphalt and enlarge the cracks to about 3 inches across.  According to one of the crew I was chatting with yesterday, this process makes it possible to completely fill in each crack, which they couldn't do if they didn't enlarge them.

The machine they use for this job is LOUD.  Think chalk dragged across a chalkboard.  Times 5.  All day.  7 AM to 6 PM.  Did I mention it was LOUD?

The sound defies closed windows.  It can be clearly heard over my music.  I have no ear plugs.  Cotton and balled up Kleenex fall out of my ears.  There is no escape.

Today is day number three of the work on the street in front of my building.  The only thing I know for sure is that the crews never do this kind of work in the winter.

So Dear Lord, it's about that snow.....

Celery and Apples

David wanted to know if I could use some celery.  Of course I could!  He and the kids raised celery in their garden this year.  I didn't know you could raise celery in Minnesota, but obviously, you can.  They had already used all they wanted.  He said he would drop it off at my apartment for me.

Now when he said he had celery from his garden, I was thinking maybe a few stalks.  I was wrong.

He said that next year he will thin it out some and with more room to grow, the stalks would probably be larger.  There were some pretty big stalks even without the thinning.

I have it all cleaned and cut up.  Tomorrow morning I will blanch it and fill my dehydrator trays.  I plan to dry the leaves separately.  They are really good when crumbled and used like dry parsley.

This past Saturday David and Staci took the kids to an apple orchard near their home.  Apple orchards around here are more than just orchards.  There was horseback riding for the girls and a farm animal petting zoo for the younger set, along with other kid-related activities.

And then they went apple pickin'.  David brought me a big bag of apples.  I can't remember what variety they are, but he said they are a good all purpose apple.

I was going to make applesauce, but these are such nice, firm apples that I think I will can apple slices instead.  The next time the kids are here, we will open a jar or two so they can see how good they taste.  They have already learned how to can tomatoes and salsa and pasta sauce and chili sauce and pickles by helping their Dad.  Maybe next year they would like to learn to can apples with their Grandma.

An Anomaly

I guess I must be an anomaly among those of my peer group - retired widows.  There are a lot of us.  But I am finding that very few look any farther ahead than maybe the day after tomorrow, literally.

I needed to add to my food storage, so this morning I rode the bus to the grocery store.  I sat near a woman of my vintage that I see often on these trips.  During the course of conversation I asked if she ever shopped at Sam's Club.  She scoffed at the very idea.  She said that she lived alone and that she had no reason to ever buy in bulk.  She told me that she went to the grocery a couple of times each week to buy what she needed for a few days.  I asked what did she do if a bad storm was in the weather forecast.  She said that she would go to the closest convenience store for bread and cereal and milk.  I hope that works out for her.

While waiting for the bus for the return trip home, I chatted with another widowed lady.  We were talking about the price of groceries and how quickly groceries are becoming more expensive.  She remarked  that even flour and sugar had gone up in price.  I mentioned that both Sam's and Walmart still had good prices on 25 lb. bags of flour.  "What on earth would I do with that much flour?" she asked me.  "Well, you could bake bread with it," I said.  She said that she would eat homemade bread if someone gave her a loaf of it, but why go to all the trouble of making it when she could just buy it at the bakery or the grocery.

Both of these ladies rode the same bus as I did going home, and I caught both glancing at my handy, dandy little old lady shopping cart that was loaded with several sacks of pet food, six large bags of frozen mixed vegetables and a sack full of more canning lids.

It never ceases to amaze me that those like me, who are children of parents who lived through the Depression and the food rationing of WWII, failed to learn anything from those parents about putting food by for either emergencies or the cold winter months.  Preserving every bit of food possible was a way of life in my family.  If we didn't do the work summer and fall, we would be pretty hungry long about February.

Those two ladies seem like very nice ladies.  But I think I will make sure that they and those like them never find out where I live.

Does Anyone Remember...

life before television when kids played outside?  I don't know why I started thinking about this lately.  Perhaps it was the other day when I watched a kid about 10 years old come close to being run over by a truck because she was watching the screen on her phone instead of the traffic.

I remember when a store bought jump rope was the cause for happiness.  It was so much better than the length of clothesline I used before that.  It had wooden handles.  The rope was thicker.  It didn't get all twisted around like clothesline rope did. It was fun.

There were those who could jump rope where two people swung a  long length of rope between them and another one or two jumped the rope in the middle.  I never got the hang of it.  I got tired of being tripped up by the rope, so I stuck to a single jump rope.

It has been years since I saw a set of jacks.

For the youngsters who don't know what jacks are, 10 small metal star shaped pieces and a small rubber ball made up a set of jacks.  The object of the game was to toss the ball in the air and scoop up jacks before the ball bounced twice, starting with one jack at a time, progressing to two at a time until all ten were picked up at once.  My hands were small.  I don't think I ever made it beyond the eight-jack mark.  But many a lazy summer afternoon was spent sitting on the sidewalk with a friend, playing jacks.

Nearly every neighbor kid I knew growing up wore a skate key on a piece of string around their neck.  And what is a skate key for, you might ask.  It is for turning the clamps that attached roller skates to your shoes.  We didn't have boots with wheels set into the soles.  We didn't have roller blades.  We had these.

A strap around the ankle area held the heel of the skate onto your shoes.  The clamps tightened near the toes of your shoes.  This arrangement kept the skates in place.  Until the clamps worked loose.  And then if you didn't notice it right away, the toe part would fall off to one side and down you would go.  I spent the better part of my childhood with big scabs on my knees.  I loved to roller skate.

Even though we didn't have a television or a cell phone or any other electronic gadget, and even though there were always chores to do, especially on Saturdays, I think I grew up in the best of times for a child.  There was a freedom in the life of a child that my grandchildren will never see.  A kid could fly down the sidewalk on roller skates or ride a bike as fast as the wind without having to be helmeted and padded to within an inch of their lives.  A kid could leave home on a summer morning and not return until evening without anyone calling the police.  Our police were all the Moms up and down the street who watched out for us.  They were there if we needed help or a sandwich or a band aid, but they let us play and just be kids.

I find it somewhat sad that the freedom to be a kid is gone.

Old Values Revived

While sharing ice cream and conversation with my son yesterday, he was telling me about an interesting trend in the real estate market.  He and his wife have been thinking of selling their home and buying another with more room for their family.  He said that some of the newer houses they had looked at came with a ground floor "Mother-In-Law" apartment, specifically designed for use by aging parents who, like many elderly, have trouble negotiating the stairs in a traditional second floor or basement apartment.

We hear quite often about the trend of adult children moving in with their parents during a financial crisis such as job loss or the inability of college graduates to secure employment in their chosen field.  But I have to admit I had not thought about  the reverse situation - of aging parents living with their adult children.  I had forgotten about occurrences within my own family.

Years ago it was unthinkable for a family to shuttle Mom or Dad off to a home for the aged.  My Great-Grandfather, after the death of his wife, spent half the year with my Grandfather's family and the other half with his daughter's family.  One of my Dad's brothers stayed on the farm and cared for his widowed mother until her death.  He was over 50 years old before he married and left the farm.  He did this by choice, out of love for his mother and a sense of family duty.

My other Grandmother lived for a time in an apartment in my parent's home.  I remember how I loved to be able to see her whenever I wanted and to be able to bring my young children to to spend time with her.  My brother, who was a young boy at the time, recalls hours spent with our Grandmother, many of them over games of checkers.  Some of his best memories are of time with Grandma.

I understand the need for nursing homes.  Both of my parents lived in a nursing home in their last years due to medical issues that could not be taken care of in a home environment.  But for those older folks who are still able to care for themselves, this ground floor apartment trend is a good one, I think.  It offers privacy for both generations.  And it offers access to family and the opportunity to spend precious time with grandchildren - something that is becoming a rare thing in our too busy world.  It is reminiscent of the old values, where family cared for family and that is a good thing.  And I am all for reviving some of the old values and traditions.

That being said, do not panic, my children.  I have no intention of moving in with any of you - yet.