Chili on a cold, rainy night

Day three of being housebound by the weather. Today was one of those cold wet days that chills you to the bone—seems like I’ve said that a lot lately. But even my cozy cottage was chilly, and I went around in a sweater all day. And it rained all day, sometimes a drizzle but other times steadily. Praise be that we missed the ice storm to our west though in some areas surrounding the Metroplex the rain was so steady that flooding was a problem. I do hope this nasty winter means a beautiful spring.

I found I can be quite social staying at home. Yesterday, Jean came for a most welcome coffee visit, and I cancelled any thought of dinner plans—too nasty to go out. The same reason caused me to cancel tonight’s standing Wednesday night dinner with Betty. But Lewis, the contractor who keeps both our houses in running order, came to install my new kitchen shelf and provided some human company this morning.

When you have limited space, as I do, a new shelf can be cause for rejoicing. This one is over my butcher block/cutting board/rolling table. The shelf let me clear off a lot of junk from the cutting board—sugar, salt, pepper, garlic keeper, etc. Looks ever so much neater. The picture above it is deliberately off-center, at my request. But the picture is original artwork from my friend Barbara Whitehead for the cover of The Gilded Cage. When we used the InstaPot the other night, I realized the art was about to get steamed into oblivion and quickly moved it.

Lewis’ visit—and we did chat a bit—was followed by John, the landscaper who is going to put in my tiny, tiny garden for lettuce and onions. We chatted a bit too, mostly about wilted lettuce and the salad his mom made that sound similar but with cabbage instead of lettuce. I’m waiting to hear an estimate from him. I’ve no doubt it will be the most expensive lettuce I’ve ever eaten, but once installed, I hope I can keep the small space full of vegetables, even after the lettuce dies out in June.

This morning Jordan said it was a day to have chili for supper. I volunteered to cook, but Christian wanted to do it. A little after five, Jordan came out with a basket of groceries—Christian would be late and couldn’t cook. So we made hurry-up chili. She makes a great sous chef.. By 7:30 we served a credible pot of chili, but I laughed at the “service” and told Jordan her grandmother would have thrown up her hands in dismay. Saltines in their wrapper and sour cream in the carton. I think I’m a casual person, but sometimes my mom comes to mind reminding me of manners. When I was a kid, we had linen tablecloth and napkins for dinner, and nothing ever was served in the store contained. Ah, but it’s only one of the many ways life has changed—and a minor one at that in the overall scheme of things.

I anticipate one more housebound day, and I’m almost looking forward to it. I’ve got my routine down. But I will be glad to get out of the house and into the world. Friday, grocery shopping. Saturday, a funeral. Sunday, church. Life is pretty exciting.

Jordan said today she had a moment of reflection and thought how lucky she was to have such a good husband who, when it seemed necessary, uprooted their lives and moved into my house—and believe me, it was a big upheaval for all of us. Then she said, she thought about the scary days when my kids feared I’d never get back to being myself, and she realized how grateful and happy she is. All of us are well and flourishing. Her question was, “Now who can I reach out to and help?” That’s my girl. And a big hug of gratitude to Christian for being who he is.

I too am blessed…and happy.

Life in a wheelchair

I don’t complain much about being housebound—it’s kept me out of the heat, and I have so many visitors I’m not lonely at all. Today was like Grand Central Station---the physical therapist and the LVN who bathes me both arrived at the same time. I expected sparks to fly because the LVN said, “He’s coming on my time.” They both agreed, however, that it was fortuitous. The therapist, Dan, showed me how I could get in the shower, now that I’m able to put a little weight on my right foot, but he cautioned I need to have someone help me. For a moment there, the therapist and I were in the shower together (I was still dressed)—we seemed to be doing a dance in a small space. But long story short, I got a full shower. Praise be! First time I’ve been in the shower in five weeks. The thing about Home Health Care through Medicare is that you don’t dare tell them it’s inconvenient for them to come or you’re busy—they’ll decide you don’t need them and take you off their list.

They left, and my dear friend Kathie arrived with lunch. Kathie is perhaps the most organized person I know, and when she brings lunch, she brings everything—paper plates, napkins, plastic flatware. And then the lunch-tuna salad, fruit salad, veggies to nibble on, two kinds of muffins (we had a half each—blueberry and goat cheese/berry). Couldn’t decide which was best.

After Kathie left, I busied myself making the filling for salmon pasties. Then Rosa, my hair stylist arrived. Rosa is such a good soul she volunteered to come to the house to cut my hair. I thoroughly enjoy her company—we talk about both kids and politics—and she said she needed to come talk to me with the current political situation.

With my new haircut I took a brief nap. Then up because a friend of Jordan’s came for a glass of wine. Then Betty arrived for supper, and together we put the pasties together and baked them. Not the best I’ve ever made but okay for my first foray back into cooking. A good visit.

I thought she was the last visitor, but Jordan and Christian wandered in. Jordan told me that Christian is excellent at cutting up a cantaloupe, and I had one I’d let sit on the counter and ripen. He cut it up and pronounced it the best ever—not too ripe, not underdone. I like them sweet and soft, and he says this one is.

Whoosh! I’m tired. I loved all the company, but I will enjoy a calm day tomorrow. I’m surely not lonely.

Floods, Fire, and a Wheelchair

            Brexit aside, the headlines this morning were pretty dismal. When I look at images of the West Virginia floods or the California wildfires, I feel blessed and safe and sometimes I wonder why I’m immune to all these disasters. Is it where I live? Surely it’s not because of good deeds. My heart and my prayers go out to people who’ve lost their homes and loved ones in either disaster.

God or whoever’s in charge, has a way of putting things in perspective. My walker seems pretty comfortable and safe today when I view those catastrophes. I may be temporarily housebound, but I have a dry, safe house to stay in, plenty of food, and a comfortable bed to sleep in. What more can I ask for? Just glanced at the TV in time to see a picture of a wonderful rare steak and potato salad—maybe, if I were greedy, I’d ask for that. Seriously, I often think about this—my cup runneth over while so many in the world suffer so horribly. Thanking God seems a pale thing in comparison.

My guest blog about writing my way out of depression was posted on One Woman’s Day (Story Circle Network) this week, and many folks seemed to miss the point that I had written my way out. I got lots of sympathy and advice about my depression, so I want to assure everyone it’s gone, vanished, kaput. Days like today, with its disastrous news, make me realize again that my depression, caused by this blasted ankle, is a paltry thing in the overall scheme of the world.

Meanwhile, we’re at it again—downsizing. Last week, it was books spread on every table of the house and piled high. A friend came by last night and exclaimed, “It looks so neat in here.” The books I can live without—and believe me it was a large number because I was heartless—went to Recycled Books in Denton. So today, it was dishes. Jordan emptied the buffet and spread the dishes out on the dining table; then she started on miscellaneous coffee mugs, saying no person needs thirty-five. Pushy, isn’t she? I reluctantly parted with some favorites, held on to others. She washed the cupboards and put dishes away neatly. I told her she’d be too tired for the party she’s hosting this afternoon. But it was good to have company and fun to dig through treasures I hadn’t seen in a while. She was frustrated when I’d say, “Well, that belonged to one of my grandmothers but I’m not sure which one.” We are sentimentalists and are keeping all family pieces.

Tonight Subie Green brought supper, and I was joined by her and her husband and neighbors Susan and Jay. Great casserole, wonderful watermelon/strawberry/blackberry/basil salad, and raucous good times.

It’s been a good day.

The Perils of Isolation

A friend came to visit today, bringing a delicious zucchini muffin and some goodies, plus her pleasant company. But she’s soft-spoken, and I kept asking her to repeat or speak up. Finally she whirled on me and said, “Did you know that if you don’t wear your hearing aids,  you run a greater chance of dementia?” I went and put my hearing aids in. I know that if you take them in and out it’s hard for the brain to adjust, but dementia? I chewed on that all afternoon and decided that it’s because –and a if you don’t wear them, you can’t hear and are therefore isolated from what’s going on around you. You have no stimulation—and a brain without stimulations atrophies.

Being housebound as I am for now, I don’t have much stimulation from the outside world, except the newspaper, TV, and Facebook. Sometimes it’s hard for me to blog about much except what goes on in my own life—and that can make for fairly dull reading. “And then I did this….and then I did that.”

But I am fortunate that I have visitors—today there was that morning visit from a friend; the woman who has cut my hair for probably the last 15 years and of whom I’m very fond, made a house call to give me a much-needed haircut. And another friend brought me chicken soup for supper and stayed to visit over a glass of wine. I am beyond grateful for these visits. Now I’m waiting for Jordan, Jacob and Christian to arrive—it’s Jacob’s 10^th birthday and they’ve been to Joe T.’s for a festive dinner but stopping here on the way home because I still have the birthday present. I was sad not to be at the dinner, but it would have been hard to get me in and out of the car and restaurant, and if I sat outside for almost three hours I’d have been really weary.

Tomorrow I see the trauma reconstructive orthopedic surgeon, one who specializes in ankles. Jordan, John and Cindy will go with me. To say I’m apprehensive, would be to understate the case. But I will keep you all posted. And would appreciate a word or two of prayer.

Reubens, friendship, and getting out of the house

 Do you love a Reuben sandwich as much as I do? I make a Reuben dip that son-in-law Christian loves—and yet if you confronted him with sauerkraut (God forbid!) or even a Reuben sandwich, he’d probably turn away. Tonight a friend of forty years came in from Granbury and brought a Reuben casserole because she was worried about my mobility. She apparently often wakes at three in the morning, goes to her computer, and reads my blog first thing. When she read about my “adventure on the floor,” she was horrified and wanted to bring dinner. Betty, my dining out companion and now Linda’s good friend, joined us, and we ate on the deck. A lovely evening. Linda was in Philadelphia when the Pope was and out of three tries got one fairly close up look at him. So we talked about how awe-inspiring he was and is. At the time he was here I truly felt a spirit of good fellowship spreading across the nation, but I fear it has already begun to dissipate. He is so awesome with his love of humanity that I wish we could all carry that feeling in our hearts…and I can’t help but contrast it to American politics today and shake my head in dismay,

My big adventure of the day was to get out of the house and go retrieve my car from Volkswagen where they replaced the battery. I had it jumped last week, and Christian started it a couple of days when I couldn’t, but we let it go one day and it was dead when he went to drive it to Sears. So I took what probably is the more expensive route but the more efficient—I had it towed to Autobahn VW where my car has always been serviced. If we had tried to coordinate having it jumped with having someone available to take to for a new battery, I might have been without a car for a week or more. And until today I didn’t feel capable of doing it. As is, I have towing insurance and a VW discount, so it wasn’t all that bad. And they checked the car. When I called they said it was up in the air now, and I wanted to ask why it was up in the air to have the battery replaced. But I think they check everything with their sophisticated computer system. Since my car was in twice (at some cost) over the summer, I would have been dismayed—and cynical—if they reported problems. But they said all it needed was a new battery. Okay, the car is eleven years old, and I’ve never put a battery in it. Guess it was time.

So tomorrow, the grocery store…and after that, maybe the world. I’m on a roll.

The words that come out of our mouths

The other night I was talking yoga with a friend of Jordan's, and said I did my yoga routine alone in the sunroom. My neighbor walked up and said, "Why don't you go to class?" I retorted, "You know I don't like to go out!" The minute I said it, the words echoed in my head. They weren't exactly what I meant--I don't like to do yoga with a lot of other people, and I don't want to deliberately take the chunk out of my day that it takes to come and go.
But did I really mean it? I love people, I feed on company, and too much time alone makes me a tad depressed. But as a friend said to me, "You don't go out. You bring people to you." I've long been aware of a tendency toward reclusiveness that lurks in me, even though I love to go to small parties, restaurants with friends, etc. Increasingly I don't like to go out alone.
Almost forty years ago I was housebound by agoraphobia--sometimes defined as a fear of open spaces but best defined by me as a fear of fear. Phobics gradually draw the circle more tightly around them--the limits of where they'll go get closer and closer until one day you just don't go. If you don't understand panic, you'll have to trust me on this one--I  understand it too well. I spent years pushing back that circle, enlarging it.
But recently I've felt it closing in a bit, and especially during the two weeks I had whatever I had. I stayed home--and pretty much liked it. So when I heard those words--at a party significantly in my own comfortable "safe" house--I knew it was time to start pushing back again. Jacob got caught in my push and we went to church yesterday (once you're out of the habit of going, skipping church gets easier and easier). He tried mightily to talk me into leaving before the sermon, but I insisted and he went grumpily off to the children's sermon. I was glad I stayed because the sermon was good and the music glorious.
Today I had errands to run but found myself contemplating putting them off. That's when I got high behind, dressed and set off to Goodwill, liquor store, grocery and cosmetics store. A bit conscious of myself as I did those things (am I anxious or not?) but I did them. And each small step is a victory. This week, I will make it a point to get out of the house every day.
I'll get my balance back, and my circle will grow. Many people have problems so much worse. How can I complain?

A doggy, snow week

Sophie at her most adorable, saying, "Notice how cute I am." The week has been much absorbed with dogs. One of Jordan's two Cavalier King Charles Spaniels developed pancreatitis--during a snow day when the vet didn't open until noon. She was in the vet's overnight and the subject of much concern . Since it was a snow day, Jacob was here and Jordan brought Cricket, the other dog, because the two are not used to being separated. Sophie thought that was delightful--a playmate. Cricket, and her sister Juney, are quiet, reserved dogs who prefer to sit on your lap and not move. Sophie made overtures to Crickey, which Jacob interpreted as bullying, causing him to lock her in the office which drove her frantic. I explained we couldn't lock her up in her own house when we were all here and if he'd calm down, Sophie would too. And that's just what happened. Juney is now happily at home with her sister and feeling better.
But Sophie loves happy hour, when it seems there's almost always someone here for a glass of wine. First of all it's her signal to become desperately hungry. After she's fed, she wants attention and shows us how cute she is.
Sometimes I think about living alone, which mostly I like, and think I couldn't do it without a dog. Yes, I talk to her, and she responds. Yes, she gives me comfort in the cool of the night--if someone threatened the house, she'd sound the alert. Though pretty much when she's in her crate, she considers herself "off duty" and doesn't bark until she wants to go outside--usually about four in the morning, thank you very much. But then it's not a bark but a sort of soft "Ruff." She's crated because she seems to have forgotten that she can wake me up to go out and has left puddle marks on my kilim rugs. I don't think I've ever in my life had a perfectly house-trained dog, and I consider it a deficiency on my part.
Other than that it's been a snow week--two days of school closed and then yesterday was a gorgeous day, sunny, not too cold. Today the prediction was for a light dusting of snow in the morning, though Jordan looked at the radar--which looked like a huge something was going to hit us--and announced I should not go to the grocery. I protested it's liable to be much worse the next two mornings, and I should go when I can. The light dusting was barely even that--tiny flakes that disappeared before they hit the ground. At her urging I went to the store so early that I was home by 9:30 and can stay home the next two days, although I have evening plans both nights that I hope the weather doesn't cancel.
Saturday is the Cowtown Marathon, an event for which planning began in my living room many many years ago. I well remember the first marathon--it began to sleet about ten the night before, and my ex, Joel, one of the founders, sat in our bedroom and said, "Shit! I don't want to hear sleet." Next morning I drove four young children to the North Side (I was doing publicity for the marathon) and we stayed all day.  Now when I think of having turned them loose on East Exchange I am horrified but they assure me they were always with a bunch of kids.
This Saturday it's supposed to be freezing rain. Jordan and Jacob are scheduled to run, Christian to walk. We'll see what happens, but the weather forecast does bring back memories.
The trouble with snow days, for me, is that I get too comfortable staying home and then have to remind myself I am perfectly capable of moving about in the world. Felt a bit of that this morning.

Winter storm mode

It's here. The freezing rain. Apparently the "major event" will come about midnight, but it's cold and wet and miserable. The dog keeps wanting to go out and then wanting to come back in the minute she goes out.  Jacob is tucked in hid bed, watching TV, though I'm about to roust him out for tooth-brushing. I have tried but I can't quite get him to understand the idea of a total power outage. Gave him his own flashlight that he is to keep by him all the time but NOT play with. But he doesn't understand about no heat, no lights, no cooking--he will expect his waffles in the morning. I of course am afraid the power will go off in the middle of the night. But I'm resolved not to bring any more bridges up here. We're in the house probably for the next two-and-a-half days, and we'll have to make the best of it.
Jordan just called--she and Christian are safely in Austin, a trip that worried me but she wants so badly to go to the John Mayer concert tomorrow night. Christian gets stars in his crown for undertaking the drive. Who knows when they'll get back to Fort Worth?
All my worries earlier in the week about getting Jacob to and from school Friday faded when the FWISD called his mother (robot call) and said school is cancelled. What a relief. On this morning when I can sleep late, he'll probably wake up at seven. Pray he'll quietly watch TV.
Of course this would be the night my internet connection went down--but just on the computer. The TVs were fine. With dread in my heart, I called that automated gentleman; he re-booted; I rebooted; nothing worked. All of this of course took a good deal of time. But then he connected me to a service technician. The technician turned out to be a lovely lady in San Antonio--not India, not the Philippines--who spoke lovely English. We chatted, worked together to figure out the problem, and she even said I'd taught her something. Sometimes all things work to some good.
So here I sit in pjs, sweatshirt, and a shawl over my knees---cozy and comfortable, with The Sound of Music on the TV. By Sunday, Jacob and I may both be bonkers and dislike each other, but for now we're having fun and we're happy. Not supposed to go above freezing until Sunday afternoon--sigh!