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"Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?" ~ Mary Oliver

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“Stoner” . . .

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“Stoner” is the name of a novel (1965) by a writer named John Williams who taught English literature at University of Denver and who is not very well known among the pantheon of famous novelists. It came to my attention by reading a review of it in last Sunday’s New York Times which you can read for yourself here.

It arrived via my Amazon Prime account and I’m almost finished reading it. As noted in the review, it’s the life story of a man named William Stoner who teaches English literature at the University of Missouri and what happens in his life. What is engaging about reading and thinking about it is that some people in our culture would ask why it’s worth spending time reading about a “loser.” While others see it as a “perfect novel” about an ordinary person’s life, illuminating for readers that things do not always end up well and people do not always end up living “happily ever after” as our Walt Disney culture is wont to press upon us.

In fact, it is this counter-culture kind of attitude and tone that I relished reading about in this handbook of a novel. The writer describes the excruciating viciousness of academia politics which many know firsthand and which illustrates how petty people can be about power. Undoubtedly, these struggles occur everyday in politics everywhere and even in small town civic groups of volunteers which I have some knowledge about myself.

William Stoner was fortunate. He was able to pursue his love of English and literature and make it into a lifelong profession rather than being forced to be a farmer living out a hardscrabble life like his father’s. He loved his wife even though she turned her back on him shortly after they married, keeping his only daughter from being close to him. He cleaned the house, took care of the baby, did the chores and prepared his lessons. His spouse chose to be distant from him while living off him until he died.

He also loved and was truly loved by someone other than his wife. They had a brief time together, one of personal integrity, a triumph over the odds of people bent on destroying them because they were happy. He was full of dogged fortitude in standing up for his beliefs even when it inured his enemy to become even more vindictive than thought possible over a long period of time. And then he dies.

Many of us subscribe to the “happily ever after” model of the American Dream. We think that if we only hope and work hard towards our dreams that eventually they will come true. Along the way are pitfalls, things that happen that become water under the dam that we don’t speak about and sooner or later, we look back to see if we feel good about how our life turned out or not.

If we have been lucky, we will accept what we see in the dry way that William Stoner did. He realized when things did not turn out the way he wanted them to and he kept going. Most of all, he did what he really wanted to do–which was to be a teacher even if he was not the most popular or highly regarded professor. And he was deeply loved by another person even if they were not able to be together for very long.

Life is full of people who take a dislike to us for reasons we don’t understand. It also introduces us to people who love us even when we are difficult to get along with. When I look around at the people who struggle to make ends meet and who look to find some solace in their everyday schedules, I wonder about how many stories like “Stoner” there are or might have been.

If you want to ruminate about what life is all about, you wouldn’t do badly to pick up this book at the library or read it on an airplane when you’re on your way from here to there.

 

spring steps . . .

my granddaughter's shoes . . .

my granddaughter’s shoes . . .

Sometimes, it feels like time stands still and progress is impeded. Or worse, something happens that stalls or detours what we’d like to see happen. Yesterday or the day before, I was cooking in the kitchen and twice ran the big toe of my injured foot into something–the stove or the fridge as I swiveled around in my wheelchair. So much for my naivete, thinking I could safely get around by myself!

The result was an angry looking, red, swollen joint on my big toe the next day which I gingerly iced for ten minutes at a time. I was also miffed at myself for being careless and not putting on the right side Teva sandal to protect the foot which protrudes beyond the footrest of the wheelchair. Anyhow, it’s better today and so I decided to venture into the pantry adjacent to our kitchen to sort and cull out canned goods for a U.S. Postal food drive scheduled for this Saturday. The only thing is, there’s a step down from our kitchen to get into the pantry.

Normally, we wouldn’t even notice such things that we take for granted. So in order to get in the pantry, the wheelchair footrests had to come off. Then, I pulled the wheelchair gingerly into the pantry, reattached the footrests and sat down in it, pulling things out like lentil soup and chick peas that I didn’t think we’d use. I also put G.’s cans of Coke into the small fridge that we use for drinks so as to free up space in the big fridge we use in the kitchen.

Sounds good, right? Except for the near-fall that I took when I tripped, getting the wheelchair into the pantry, breaking a china cannister that was in the way. I managed to pick up the broken pieces with my handy grabber, proud of myself that I was able to get most of the broken pieces into a double layered plastic grocery bag. I’ll ask G. to sweep up the rest of it up once he’s back home since I don’t want to push my luck any further.

In looking through the foodstuffs, I discovered I had plenty of dried tree ear, shitake mushrooms, dried bean curd skin, tiger lily root and cellophane noodles. When soaked in a bowl of hot water before ready to use, they are then rinsed, and cut up and then cooked with some napa cabbage, resulting in one of my favorite dishes, Buddha’s Delight. I remembered there was a small container of marinated ground pork and shrimp left over from making wontons last week which I’ll defrost and add to our buddha dish, slightly departing from the recipe’s vegetarian origins. No matter, I thought, it will still taste good. So, that’s how tonight’s dinner got decided.

"buddha's delight" for dinner . . .

“buddha’s delight” for dinner . . .

Afterwards, I pulled myself onto the couch and looked outside at the beautiful, sunny, early Spring day. Somehow, it reminded me of Beethoven’s “Archduke Trio” which I saved into a playlist from my library on I-Tunes and emailed to my daughters, M. and C. to see if they could download it and enjoy the wonderful piece themselves where they are, working so hard today to study for exams and preparing students for theirs too.

So simple: clean things out; try not to fall (too badly); use what I already have to make supper; look out the window at the beautiful Spring Day, listen to Beethoven; share it with the kids.

That works for me! At least for today.

Postscript: Happy to report the next day, I was shown by a physical therapist how to use crutches to go up and down the steps (bad foot down first; good foot up first.)

We live on the third floor of a large Queen Anne Victorian house so there are lots of steps, and also thankfully, lots of landings on which to rest. Having gotten over my reticence to try it out, I figured I’m going to be on crutches a lot longer while the ankle strengthens and becomes more limber, so going up and down the stairs with crutches (rather than sitting and sliding on my backside) is a logical next step to take.

A supper of mustard/rosemary/garlic marinated lamb loin chops and fresh asparagus made it all worthwhile!

 

cast-away! . . .

with new removable boot . . .

with new removable boot . . .

Well, I got both my feet back today. The one that I broke badly in February is finely freed from hard casts which have been replenished since February 20th. When the latest cast was removed today, G. and I were relieved to see that the foot, ankle and leg appeared less swollen than they were three weeks ago. What a relief!

The surgeon took a look at the x-rays that were taken today and declared them to be “awesome!” I don’t know if he meant the erector-set like plates and screws that he had fashioned inside my ankle, holding the broken pieces together or how it was healing. We hope that he meant both.

Anthony, the cast technician, then put a removable boot on the leg, and thus well-cushioned, we made our way to the grocery store and then back home again to the eyrie that we live in on the third floor of our Queen Anne Victorian house.

For the next four weeks, I am to be tender to the freed leg, putting only 25% of my body weight on it at any given time. I think I’m going to treat it as though it were still in the hard cast, doing the simple stretching and rotation exercises three times a day. Physical therapy won’t even begin until after the next visit. It will be at least two months before I can begin to think about driving a car!

In the meantime, I’m grateful for what appears to be uneventful healing: that is, no complications and no worries really, except for a few weeks of restless insomnia due to the heavy cast and underlying anxiety about relieving my foot from its armour.

So tonight, we’re going to celebrate today’s positive outcome by sharing a nice ribeye steak, Yukon creamer potatoes crispy in their skin with butter and garlic salt and homemade cole slaw with cabbage, carrots and golden raisins in a ranch-ey salad dressing with fresh lemon zest.

Yesterday, I discovered a cache of photographs from the holidays in my Dropbox, never having paid much attention to it up to now. Here is a photo worth a thousand words of J., the joy of all of our lives, hopping around on the deck of a house that we stayed in Brewster on the Cape after Christmas last year. Josie on the deck

a good weekend . . .

yellow tulipsToday is Sunday and my daughter C. has been spending the weekend with G. and me, arriving yesterday afternoon with lovely yellow tulips and a large box of fresh groceries from a local organic farm. For dinner last night, we roasted a small chicken with fresh thyme and rosemary; a bread salad made up of a torn up ciabetta roll and fresh greens, asparagus and later on, some chocolate cream pie.

After dinner, we watched the Walt Disney movie, “Frozen,” for the first time together and were impressed with the radical themes and fresh approaches to life for young children (no, Virginia, Prince Charming is no longer the end-all, be-all savior of all damsels in distress; and yes, girls, you can find it within yourself to “let it go” AND also show true love to those whom you don’t understand, rather than waiting/relying on others to show love to you first in order for you to believe life is worth living!) A woman wrote the script, you can be sure. I kept waiting for the movie to deliver not only the song, “Let It Go,” but a message that would illustrate how this movie would justify the over 1. billion dollar worldwide gross it has achieved since it was released in late 2013. With the aforementioned radical shifts to “happily-ever” scenarios, I could see why the movie has caught on.

The song, “Let It Go” itself is not easy to sing, given the harmonic shifts and irregular meter–sometimes in four beats and then extending to six. Despite these challenges, the song seems to have taken over the world (winning best song at the Oscars.) Here is a link to a Youtube clip of “Let It Go” sung in 25 languages by 25 exuberant women vocalists:

http://www.bing.com/videos/search?q=youtube+%22let+it+go%22+in+25+languages&qpvt=Youtube+%22let+it+go%22+in

shitake mushroomsThis morning, (with “Frozen” running on replay in the background,) we made more of my home-style panko crumbs and C. prepared eggplant parmigiana to take home and bake tonight for supper. Afterwards (you must be thinking that all we do is cook and eat, which is pretty much accurate) I sliced up some huge fresh shitake mushrooms, sauteed them in butter with shallots, dressed with fresh thyme and rosemary afterwards.herbs I made tender scrambled eggs, still runny in curds, piled into a plate, the mushrooms on top as our lunch, eaten with leftover French onion soup, bread and taleggio goat cheese. Yum!

scrambled eggs with fresh shitake mushrooms. . .

scrambled eggs with fresh shitake mushrooms. . .

The rest of the morning was spent leisurely reading the New York Times, side by side with our cups of tea and coffee. We skyped the Minneapolis contingent mid-morning and visited, catching up on our weekend and showing J. my canary, whom she has been waiting to see because I haven’t been as mobile with the laptop as usual due to my ankle injury.

Last night, C. massaged my occipital muscles at the base of my head and my shoulder muscles. I could tell right away that this kind of touch might allow me to sleep better than any of the remedies taken by mouth, herbal and otherwise. And sure enough, I woke up this morning after sleeping better than I have in awhile.

The afternoon air coming through the windows and back porch is refreshing as I finish writing this post. It’s been such a pleasure to visit together and to spend time chatting, watching movies, reading the Sunday newspapers, cooking and eating meals together.

chocolate eggsSoon it will be Easter (next Sunday!) And soon enough afterwards, my cast will be removed (!) in favor of a replaceable boot if all goes well with my X-rays. Hope you have had a good weekend too!

 

good things . . .

eggplant parmigiana ~ the best ever!

eggplant parmigiana ~ the best ever!

I’ve had a craving for tender, crisply fried eggplant recently and bought a medium sized one at the store last Friday on the way home from my hospital visit to have the sutures taken out.

The first step I took this morning was to make some enriched panko breadcrumbs: melting a dollop of unsalted butter in a skillet, pouring in a fresh packet of panko crumbs, stirring gently to distribute the butter; a couple of sprinkles of Lawry’s garlic salt from the gigantic container I bought at Sam’s Club, and dried parsley to provide some nice color. On low heat, I stirred the crumbs until they turned slightly golden and smelled fragrant from the garlic salt. Cooled and then transferred to a plastic container for future use.

panko bread crumbs toasted in butter with garlic salt and dried parsley

panko bread crumbs toasted in butter with garlic salt and dried parsley

In the afternoon, I washed and sliced up the eggplant into slightly thinner slices than usual so as to ensure tender crispiness and also to avoid having to fry thicker pieces longer and then have to drain the slices of fat. Sprinkled the raw eggplant with Maldon salt. Let sit for an hour or so on the kitchen table. Then wiped the salt and liquid clean, drying the eggplant slices. Then, the three-fold dredging steps, dipping each slice of eggplant in flour, beaten eggs, and prepared panko breadcrumbs. Oil simmered over medium-high heat in the skillet, a quick fry, turning the slices over when golden and then draining the fried slices on paper towels. I had to clean the pan halfway through to avoid burning the eggplant and started over with clean oil, not smoking. I set the slices aside to rest.

breaded eggplant slices . . .

breaded eggplant slices . . .

Then, I opened a can of San Marzano tomatoes and ran them through the Vitamix, adding some leftover diced tomatoes that were in the fridge used earlier in vegetable soup. Tasted the tomato puree for seasoning. It was simple and free of additives found in brand name sauces, just Italian tomato taste. Spread a thin layer on the bottom of an old oval copper au gratin pan. Placed eggplant in a thin layer, added scant layer of sauce, fresh mozzarella cheese and hand-grated fresh parmesan cheese.

San Marzano tomatoes. . .

San Marzano tomatoes. . .

Turned oven to 375 degrees. When almost time for supper, slid the copper pan into the oven and baked for about half an hour until golden brown on top. Made a salad of lettuce, cucumber and red onion.

While i was dredging and frying the eggplant slices, I had a fleeting thought that maybe making this dish was too much trouble. Later, however, G. and I agreed that this was probably the best eggplant parmigiana we’d ever had. I think it might have been due to a) thinner eggplant slices encased in tasty breadcrumbs; b) very little unprocessed and simple tomato sauce that did not drown the eggplant nor made it soggy;  and c) real parmesan cheese hand grated at the last minute, added to the mozzarella cheese.There was no salt at all except for what had been wiped off the raw eggplant after curing it of its innate bitterness. We’re so glad there’s enough left over for us to eat again tomorrow!

eggplant parm in the oven. . .

eggplant parm in the oven. . .

For dessert, there were still two pieces of the sour cream chocolate cake that I made the other day–half a recipe in a small square pan, frosted with ready-made chocolate icing. “Delicious!” G.’s mother commented after they finished theirs last night. His mother is ninety-five and lives across the street with G.’s brother, J.

This afternoon, G. handed me his Nikon to download photos of the cardinals who sing outside our home and flit around in the trees and bushes. We feel they are a positive sign from the universe and protect us with their colorful presence. G. maintains there are two pairs of cardinals whom he has observed squabbling with the chickadees for territory. Here are some images to enjoy!

Cardinal 2cardinal 3

oven fried chicken . . .

oven fried chicken 1This afternoon, I had taken out a pack of organic chicken thighs, planning to marinate them in some homemade teriyaki sauce, then broil them for dinner. Alongside, I planned to saute half a vidalia onion with two diagonally sliced zucchini squash. Then, I started to think that we’ve had teriyaki a lot lately and that our tastes were getting a little narrow, what with me being “stuck” in the house, trying to cook imaginatively using a few groceries bought at a time.

To tell the truth, what I really craved was fried chicken. Yep. Soaked in buttermilk, dipped in flour, then beaten egg, then some scrumptious bread crumbs with a little Lawrey’s garlic salt, browned in a little unsalted butter and sprinkled with some dried parsley for show. There was a little fresh buttermilk left in the fridge from making the banana cake the other day so I rinsed off the chicken in cold water, dried the pieces thoroughly and then slid them into a bath of buttermilk. Then I turned my attention to making bread crumbs that would be crunchy and tasty at the same time but not overpowering. I melted some unsalted butter into my Mauviel stainless skillet, dumped the half pack of panko crumbs that I found in the cupboard; then sprinkled a little garlic salt into the crumbs while they heated up in the pan; then a sprinkle of dried parsley at the end. It smelled divine. I let the skillet cool.

The recipes I looked at online indicated it might be a good idea to prepare the chicken with the crumbs and let them sit in the fridge for a half an hour to “set” the panko so that it would adhere better to the chicken. So I pulled up my wheelchair to the table balancing the thighs soaking in buttermilk. I beat up two eggs in a separate bowl, set some flour on a plate, and proceeded to do the three-dip crusting thing that I learned awhile back whenever you’re breading something:

a. dredge lightly in flour first, shaking off the excess

b. dip into the beaten eggs

c. then dip lightly on both sides into the prepared crumbs

breaded chicken "resting" in the fridge

breaded chicken “resting” in the fridge

 

The pieces looked beautiful if I do say so myself. I made some room in the fridge and set them to “cure” for a half hour. Then I preheated the oven to 425 degrees. I took the chicken out while the oven was preheating and slid them into the oven for what was supposed to be about 35 minutes. I’m going to watch them though, because they’re sizable pieces and I want to make sure they’re cooked to the bone and not too pink inside. Toward that end, I’m letting them bake for 20 minutes at 425 and then will turn down the oven to 375 until the juices run clear when pricked–and also so as not to scorch the wonderful crumb crust on the fried chicken.

fried chicken & zucchini. . .

fried chicken & zucchini. . .

While the chicken is cooking, I’ll start the skillet heating up for the onions and zucchini as a vegetable side dish. And guess what’s for dessert? Banana cake! YAY!

 

preoccupations . . .

view from where I sit . . .

view from where I sit . . .

When you’re limited to how much you can move around, life changes. It’s going on five weeks now since I fell and broke my ankle. Ten days ago from actual surgery. Five days since I stopped taking painkillers that were responsible for insomnia. Still not sleeping through the night. With the inactivity, I’ve discovered that my mood is better when I take short breaks to do light housework, cooking or playing the piano. The operative word in the last sentence is “short.” Right now at 4:10 in the afternoon, there’s a peach cobbler baking in the oven; poached chicken tenders in a dashi broth, ginger root and green scallion cooling on the stove; and sticky rice starting to bubble in the rice cooker. The cooled chicken will be dipped in a light oyster sauce. Along with it, I’ll quickly saute fresh spinach with some garlic and a splash of chicken broth. Some pickled cucumbers on the side.

This morning, I started re-reading one of my favorite books that I spied in the bookcase, “Philosophy Made Simple” by Richard Hellenga. It’s a story about a man whose three daughters are grown, one of them planning to be married, a widower who looks to make a move from the Midwest to Texas to buy and run an avocado farm. That’s right. He meets up with a Russian emigre who owns an elephant named Norma Jean who makes paintings holding a brush with her trunk. He sells the paintings for a hundred dollars apiece as tourist souvenirs. It’s a great little story but I already know what happens in the end. His wife died after having an affair in Italy and returned to him afterwards. In spite of it, he looks for meaning in life by listening to tapes his wife made after she left him. This kind of plot line is why I’ve decided I can’t write a novel myself. Maybe short stories or posts on a blog are all I can handle. My imagination doesn’t spin long enough if you know what I mean.

I’m also not embarrassed to report that I’ve been watching TV crime shows such as “Bones” and “Castle” while lying on the couch most of the day with my ankle elevated “higher than my heart.” I used to brush right past those shows, thinking they were rather diluted and sappy. Well, they are sometimes sappy but surprisingly, some of the plots are engaging and there’s a lot of humor found in both casts. There also seems to be some good chemistry among the actors and what can I say, it’s not the worst thing to do while recuperating. So you see, my life and routine has scaled down quite a bit. If I were sleeping and waking up rested in the morning, I’d be a lot happier. I’ve weaned myself off of Vicodin and Tylenol, each of which contained acetaminophen which can harm your liver. Just an aspirin a day is all I’d like to take for inflammation and pain.

One idea I came up with the other day was to use some brown and dark blue Marimekko remnant material that resembles piano keys to hand sew covers for the bolster cushions I use to prop up my knees when elevating my ankle. Why stop there, I thought to myself? Two more Marimekko remnant pieces won on eBay later (loden green, brown, cranberry stripes) I’m thinking about covering the large cushions and making a dropcloth for the bamboo telephone bookcase. Maybe our home will be wall-papered in Marimekko patterns by the time I’m on my feet again!

Although there’s plenty of visual stimulation in this great room that combines our kitchen and living area, I’m hoping that the Marimekko graphics will tie things together visually. At least, it’ll give me some hand sewing to do during the weeks between casts. The sutures are to be removed a week from now and a new cast put on for an additional three weeks. By the beginning of May, I’ll have a better idea of whether/when I’ll be able to put weight on my right ankle.

Meanwhile, G. continues to carry the household load by going to the store with my annotated shopping lists, helping me up and down from room to room, washing dishes after all our meals. We’re more than grateful and happy to get through this together.

And so it goes today.

an accident . . .

"get well" flowers from my daughters and granddaughters . . .

“get well” flowers from my daughters and granddaughters . . .

Well, my horoscope indicated that 2014 would/should be a quiet year for me even though it’s the Year of the Horse and that’s my sign. Both Western and Eastern signs I read about in January indicated that I should “take a back seat” kind of approach for the year. At first, I was kind of nonplussed and mystified. Now, I am beginning to understand what might have been behind those predictions.

On Thursday evening, as I prepared to drive down to a meeting at City Hall for a Citizens Advisory Committee of which I’m on the board, I mistook where I was on the stairs going down, thinking the next step was the floor. It was not. I was up higher and I fell, landing on my right ankle with a loud cracking sound. I was afraid to look at my ankle because I thought maybe the break in the bone might be visible on the outside. It was not, but the swelling became elephantine.

G. took me to the Emergency Room, where they took one look at the ankle and hustled me through the various processors who have to look at you before someone orders an X-Ray. Then, the shaking of heads by all the nurses who said, “hm, lots of breaks.” Not a good sign. They moved me to the larger emergency room pod and got me into a room where two orthopedic residents set about realigning the tibia which had dislocated from my ankle socket. They were kind, gentle and amazingly competent. They kept asking me if I was in pain, and one of them said I was the most stoical patient he’s ever had.

Wearing lead aprons, they used a portable X-ray machine that showed them my ankle while they put it back together using the x-ray photos as a guide. Under lidocaine anesthetic injected into my ankle area and an IV painkiller, they worked on it awhile, looked at it, then decided they needed to cut the cast they had just put on to realign it better. After that, they sent me to radiology to have X-Rays taken again. On the computer back in the room, I was shown the X-Rays of the injury “before” and “after.” An amazing difference! One of the orthopedic residents was the spitting image of Christian Slater, I thought, although he said nobody had ever told him that before. I chatted on about how “Bed of Roses” with Christian Slater and Mary Stuart Masterson was one of my favorite movies –which he hadn’t seen. It also turned out when he told me his last name, that his father was the cardiologist that my mother-in-law goes to (she’s ninety-five and the sweetest words he says to her at her checkups is “see you in six months!”)

Anyhow, I got home around 1:30 in the morning and after awkwardly pulling myself up three flights of stairs to where we live, we were ready for bed. The cast weighed a lot and I hadn’t gotten around to getting the painkiller medication partly because I don’t have prescription insurance (no one could believe that I didn’t take ANY medications and that I wasn’t twenty years younger–very flattering and did wonders for me while my adrenalin was pumping along overtime in the ER. The prescription turned out not to cost $80 as I had imagined, but actually cost just over $11.00. That was a good sign, I thought.

My daughter, M. flew down from Minneapolis the next night and spent the weekend with us. She helped us find a medical supply place and came home with arm cuff crutches and other supplies that helped a lot. For our dinner, she made lasagna with zucchini and fresh spinach, layered with brown rice, whole wheat lasagna noodles, sauce, ricotta and parmesan cheese. We had it again for supper last night. My granddaughter, A. and I were going to have lunch together on Saturday prior to my accident and she drove down instead and we had a nice lunch visit together with M. (I had made homemade wontons with pork and shrimp in a napa cabbage and spinach soup broth.)

On Sunday, G. and I went to have a CAT scan of my ankle so that the orthopedic surgeon would be able to look at it before my visit with him for a consultation this morning: whether I will need to have surgery or not (probably yes) and what the recovery process and prognosis might be.

All in all, I feel that it could have been a lot worse for me: I could have broken my hip, injured my spine or neck, fallen on my head with greater injury and more dire consequences. Our cup is still more than half full and we will get through this by streamlining our needs and being patient with each other during this highly impactive timeframe. My daughter, C., sent me a link for free grocery delivery from our local Stop and Shop which we might try out. And after we learn what’s in front of us today, we’ll know better what to expect. More later . . .

Later: G. and I had a good visit with the orthopedic surgeon. He agreed with me that the two orthopedic residents had done a “fabulous job” putting my bones back together in the ER Thursday night, so that my foot could heal sufficiently before having surgery. He’ll take off my cast this Friday to examine how the bones are holding together (or not!) and right now, he said surgery might take place next Wednesday. After the surgery, a weekly checkup, then removing the sutures, then recovery casts for a period of about six weeks. This sounded a lot easier than what I had read about online (12 weeks or up to a year!) so I’m really encouraged about possibly having a shorter recovery time required after surgery. And it’s also good to know that the surgery will take place next week.

Back home again, G. and I managed to get me up the 29-30 stairs that bring me up to the third floor where we live. The stairs are original to our Queen Ann Victorian house, built in 1899 and are made of curly cherry wood; there are four landings that separate the rows of stairs. Each time we navigate them, we get better at it.

After a lunch of bologna sandwiches (Boar’s Head!), potato chips and drinks later, I’m now resting on the leather couch in front of the TV, my cast leg slightly cramping from the exertion of getting up the stairs.

So, that’s it for now. This break (in my ankle and in our lives) has taught us how much we mean to each other, how fortunate we are to be together and that really. . .  truly. . .  honestly . . . , it’s not worth sweating the small stuff. . . and in the context of things, almost everything is small.

Except family, love. . . and yes, gorgeous flowers!

tulips 2

three years old . . .

DSC_0832I can hardly believe that this blog is three years old today! I wrote about how we turned two last year and thought it might be interesting to see where we are today, still a toddler in writing years. . .

When people sometimes ask me what my blog is about, I hesitate, not knowing how to describe it. It’s about my adventure in life, I guess, according to Mary Oliver’s poem in the place of honor on my blog page:

“tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

Well, what are we doing with our wild and precious lives? For me since I now have the luxury of time to read, reflect, listen to music, play the piano, knit, cook and take care of my family and my home, that’s what I’m doing with my own “only one trip!” as Iris Apfel is wont to say. The days of stirring the pot during my thirty year project management career with biotech start-ups are thankfully over.

2013 posts were an interesting year where I’ve backed away from the intensity of wanting to understand everything in my life, to “take care of business” and to wonder about what I will do for the rest of it. That answer came just a few days ago in my post, “a revelation” and from a Woody Allen movie quotation no less: “that life is to be enjoyed, not understood.”

And so now I lay me down the never-ending struggle of wanting to understand things before I can let them go. Because, honestly, they’re disproportionately unfathomable, aren’t they? Or maybe I’ll finally unroll them all into a book that I’ve wanted to write for a long time rather than wishing it were written already.

I watched, fascinated, as the blog views turned the 20,000 mark around the holidays, then to 21,546 views over 353 posts, which is what it is today. Viewing takes place from the most amazing places too: 124 countries at last count. During that time, I have met friends from far-away places who visit the blog, like cardinals who come and feed, their bright colors and good spirits permeating my life at the most unexpected times. They harken from as far away as Australia, Singapore, California, Texas, Mississippi and Alaska. The internet provides a global umbrella for making friends, sharing life stories and recipes. And they express their own thoughts with such sweet sincerity. I am touched by them all.

Click on this link if you’d like to see dozens of cardinals feeding alongside a very calm squirrel on Valentine’s Day! :

www.youtube.com/watch?v=_C4MMuF-LVk

I wanted to include in this post a highlight of 2013 called “mums” in case you haven’t seen it. It’s of an extraordinary exhibition of Japanese chrysanthemums at the New York Botanical Gardens that I visited by myself one fine October day.

I am lucky to have a loving family and to be able to provide photos of them, our environs, both physical and spiritual on the blog. The Helpers of the Universe seem to be unusually active in positive ways as my letting go widens with each new day.

G. at the piano. . .

G. at the piano. . .

threesome of me with daughters, C. & M.

threesome of me with daughters, C. & M.

Thank you for reading and following this little blog. I appreciate your presence and interest, taking the time to read my posts about life.

buddha weighs in . . .

M., my daughter, sent me this message today as a follow-on to the revelation post yesterday:  “life is to be enjoyed, not understood.”

buddha