PURE GOLD!



My shelves aren't as neat as the library's!

 

 



Books! I celebrate The Book every day of my life. If I'm not reading, I'm buying for somebody else. Books are my absolutely favorite gift to give. Or receive. Next favorite, to receive, is a gift card at a bookstore.

My childhood was spent in the dark ages--pre-TV, pre-Internet. My greatgrandchildren ask, "What did you DO?"

We read books. And magazines. And encyclopedias, and the dictionary, and just about anything that had words and pictures. Or just words.

I've been known to read cereal boxes, ads on the back of magazines, and newspaper classifieds.

Books, a desk, yarn--great place to be!

So what, exactly, do books mean to me? Here's a list that might help answer that question.

Books are:

• companions - as an only child, I chose books for a refuge, and they became my friends
• teachers - if I didn't have anyone to ask, or a library to visit, I could probably find an answer in a book; thus dictionaries became one of my early favorites
• counselors - I learned about having siblings (books for my age group were almost always about families) by reading books--also about what it meant to have friends, to fall in love, to work at a particular occupation (nursing was a big fave for years, along with airline stewardess)
• travel guides - I could visit placers I probably would never get to explore: England (especially Cornwall and Yorkshire), Scotland, and Canada. I could live as a child in Appalachia, grow up on a ranch in Wyoming, or explore in the desert of Arizona. Farm stories didn't appeal to me - I knew what it was like to live on a farm in Illinois and Missouri by direct experience. Cities were fascinating, though, no matter where they were located. I'd lived in only one city, Wichita, KS, during the 1950s when airplane production was high and jobs were plentiful for my parents.

Books have a tendency to multiply when least expected.

A book provided privacy, as well as the above roles it played in my life. If I was reading and fully engaged with the heroine in the search for the stolen jewels, I was gone. The body sitting in the chair was a living, breathing husk--its mind had flown to other lands. (Naturally this caused some household friction. If I was supposed to set the table or go out to gather the eggs, then I had to be mentally present to do it right now, not when my mind was reunited with my body.)

To this day I carry a book or magazine with me when I have to be away from the house several hours. A book can't talk, but it has the power to soothe anxiety, erase anger, stir up good feelings, and transport the stranded motorist to happier--or more exciting--places.

Remember this old joke? A person is asked, "If you could were sent to a desert island and could take only one book (egads!), what book would you take?" The person ponders a few moments, then answers: "The dictionary!" Why, he is asked? "Because it contains all the other books!" Clever answer.

But I hope I'm never asked to limit myself to just one book--good grief! I can't fathom having only one.

May you never be asked to choose only one book--and may we never be banished to a desert isle.

When National Library Week or National Book Week or Celebrate Teen Literature Day come along, think about what reading has done for you, or your family. They can be pure gold for some folks.




They're everywhere!

CELEBRATE!



My neighbor's hibiscus, or mallows

Too early, you say?
Four weeks from today, March 20, will bring in the vernal equinox.

One of my calendars says, "Spring begins."
Another, "First day of spring." Remember? The day when daylight and nighttime hours are equal?

Whatever you call it, however you describe it, we have four weeks to get ready for the next season.

My neighbor's hibiscus doesn't bloom in spring; it's comes into full flower in late June or July, but it keeps going into the autumn.

Joy among the marigolds.

My own efforts lean more toward a couple of six-packs of marigolds. After a few seasons of replanting them because squirrels, and perhaps cats, had uprooted the plants from their pots, I learned to surround the planters with chicken wire. Looks goofy, but the flowers survive and give me the color I like. Joy always sniffs them when she passes by.

Another beautiful plant that was in my yard when I bought this house is the resurrection lily, also called a surprise lily, because it certainly surprises the gardener when the leaves wilt and everything looks grim indeed. Then stalks come through the ground, looking like oddball asparagus spears. They grow taller and taller and taller and then the tightly budded tips open. One stalk may host nine or more blooms.

(I've heard these lilies called naked ladies, but that name never caught on with me.)

Yes, I know it's too early to talk of spring. We still have more snow on the ground than the North Pole (seems like it anyway) and nowhere for it to go now that temps are moderating. Today we're predicted to reach 52 degrees! (Really? In February?)

There is definitely hope for spring's arrival--yesterday my driveway was clear of snow, ice, and water. Icicles that dripped from the eaves in front have met their death in sunshine and temps in the high 30s. Snow piles that topped four feet dwindle as we watch. As I write this, we have freezing rain, 36 degrees, thunder, and lightning. (I am not lying.)

I don't discount a late winter snowstorm, but remember...four weeks. We can make it!

 

 

VALENTINE’S DAY AND THOUGHTS ON LOVE

W

hether it was a little candy heart that said “I LUV U” or a big box of chocolates, Valentine’s Day comes with memories and smiles.

 

Here are some quotations I came across. Hope you find something to touch your heart on this day we celebrate Love.

 

Love is a friendship set to music.

Joseph Campbell

 

The most precious gift we can offer anyone is our attention.

When mindfulness embraces those we love,

they will bloom like flowers.

Thich Nhat Hanh

 

Love takes off masks that we fear we cannot live without

and know we cannot live within.

James Baldwin

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply,

without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know

any other way of loving but this,

in which there is no I or you, so intimate that

your hand upon my chest is my hand,

so intimate that when I fall asleep your eyes close.

Pablo Neruda

 

love is the voice under all silences,

the hope which has no opposite in fear,

the strength so strong mere force is feebleness:

the truth more first than sun,

more last than star . . .

e e cummings

 

You know you're in love when you don't want to fall asleep

because reality is finally better than

your dreams.

Dr. Seuss

 

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast,

it is not proud.

It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking,

it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.

It always protects, always trusts,

always hopes, always perseveres.

Love never fails.

..............

And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love.

But the greatest of these is love.

I Corinthians 13:4-13

 

 

Happy Valentine's Day!

 

 

 



Not new snowfall...just pile-up from snowplows!

DÉJÀ VU…AGAIN…AND AGAIN…AND AGAIN…

Yesterday another big snow storm hit Northeastern Indiana. Snowfall began just before 6 PM Tuesday, continued all night, and was especially virulent on Wednesday morning. The official depth, measured by my dog and me on our driveway is 9+ inches. Snow came up over the top of my boots.



For folks living elsewhere—meaning, outside the current snow belt—this is nothing special. So? You live in northern Indiana? It snows there. Deal with it.

I’m trying, really, folks, I’m trying. Tuesday I went to the local Walmart and Kroger stores for absolutely everything I could think of that we were out of or might need, if the siege turned out to be lengthy. Made sure there was sufficient thread of the color and type I needed to finish a couple of lap quilts. Did laundry and washed the dog’s bed covers, in case we woke up to frozen pipes or the electricity packed it in.

Even went to the library to borrow another movie so I’d have plenty of viewing material, in addition to the books I’d checked out the week before for times when my home library’s offerings are too familiar.

As of noon yesterday, the city street department had plowed our street a couple of times. Each time they built up the snow at the end of the driveway. Even if there weren’t nine-plus inches already in the driveway, I’d have trouble getting the car out. (In my next life, I’m going to have a Jeep. Or maybe a Caterpillar earth mover.)
-----
This time of seclusion is ideal for finishing projects that have hovering over my shoulder for weeks, months, maybe longer. One lap quilt—measuring 45x57 inches—is nearly finished. Couple more hours and it’ll be ready to have its picture taken. My goal is to get it in the mail today or tomorrow for my oldest daughter’s birthday.

A second lap quilt from the same pattern, different colors, is nearing the halfway point. It has no deadline, but I’m pushing to finish it in the next couple of weeks so I can take it to church and deliver it to the man who is undergoing radiation and chemo treatments. His wife knits with our Heart & Hands group—she’s one of the most productive knitters, turning out hats, scarves, and baby afghans every week.

After those two projects are gone, I have some baby quilts to finish up for greatgrands. Funny thing, there’s always a new project begging to be finished. Like a well that never runs dry.
-----
Today the schools are closed again—our county as well as neighboring counties. The senior center is closed. Activities and events in the community are cancelled.

Nothing new in all this.

Snow nearly 4 feet high after driveway was plowed.

But—is there, perhaps, a blessing somewhere buried under four-plus feet of piled-up snow?

I’ve noticed that I’m less stressed (when you’re retired, stress comes from different sources)—no classes meeting at the senior center; no activities at the church; many of my favorite haunts (library, YMCA) are closed part of the time. I am inclined to stay home and look around me. Is there something I can do here at home that’s been needing attention? Sort boxes of books? Go through folders of music that can be discarded or donated? Weed out clothes closets and make a packet to take to the thrift stores?

What about knitting a couple of extra kid hats for our church’s current project? Or writing notes to shut-ins (of which I am one most of the time this winter, due to weather)?

The blessing in all this is a gift—a gift of time that I haven’t had before.

I find it hard to celebrate being snowed in for weeks on end. But I can celebrate the gift of time that being snowed in brings—slowing down to do things I enjoy without thinking of the dozens of things I’m not doing instead. Because I can’t get out to do them.

In a few weeks this will all be a memory. We’ll all talk about “The Winter of 2013-2014” and remind each other of how long we went without going to the store or church or work or school. It will rank right up there with “The Blizzard of ’77-’78.” And not many folks will remember that one.

 

So while I have time on my hands, I’ll celebrate Winter—and think about the winters of my childhood that were cold, snowy, and miserable. But I don’t remember that part. Only that we played outside and built snowmen, then came in, hands and feet and noses frozen, to warm up with cocoa and homemade cookies.

I hope you have good memories of winters past. Heat up some cocoa, grab a handful of your favorite cookies, and curl up to celebrate your special memories.

  

SUNDAY COOKING

We're getting snowed in again...Friday's 2-4 inches drifted around to create a little havoc. Then the wind really got going and sculpted a few avant garde structures, mostly in my driveway. So this is another Sunday at home--the 20-mile drive to church is daunting when I think of the steep hills that may be slippery with packed snow, long empty stretches where drifting escalates to white-outs. Better to stay home and pray for my friends and family in a reasonably warm house.

Another snowed-in Sunday activity that I love is Soup Making. I love nearly every kind of soup; today I'll share one that appeals especially in cold weather. It's a slow-cooker recipe, but you can make it stove-top for a quicker meal in a pot.

So here goes!

-----
SLOW-COOKER CHICKEN-VEGGIE SOUP

Ingredients:

13-oz. can cooked chicken
1 can (14.5 oz.) tomatoes--whatever flavor you like; I'm using Italian
2-lb. pkg. frozen mixed vegetables
1 1/2 cups cooked rice
1-qt. box chicken broth
fresh veggies for flavor: onion, garlic, sweet peppers, celery
olive oil
seasoning: salt, pepper, dried herbs (I'm using Herbes de Provence)

1. Chop fresh veggies.
2. Heat olive oil in large skillet below medium-high heat. Saute onion till soft, adding rest of fresh veggies in batches. Stir occasionally. When nearly done, turn off heat and put lid on skillet.
3. While fresh veggies rest, microwave frozen vegetables, in two batches, about 3 minutes each, to thaw and partially cook. Put in slow cooker and turn to high. Add broth. Put lid on to start heating.
4. As onion mixture is finished, add to the cooker along with can of chicken, tomatoes, and cooked rice.
5. Cook on HIGH for 1 hour. Turn to LOW and let it cook 4 hours or more.
6. Add seasoning when soup is almost done.

Tips:

If you don't have rice, or don't care for it, use pasta or noodles. If you add them near the start, they'll help thicken the broth. You can leave them out altogether, if you prefer.

 

Canned tomatoes aren't essential. I use one can to give more flavor and color.

 

And if you're a purist, don't have a slow cooker, or just want to fool around in the kitchen longer, put the whole works in a big stock pot, set it on the stovetop, and after everything heats up, lower heat to medium-low; stir occasionally so nothing sticks to the bottom of the pot.

 

Serve with crusty bread, toast, toasted tortillas, cornbread, or your favorite savory muffin.

 

Yield: LOTS!

You can serve 8-12 people with the above recipe, depending on appetites and what else you serve.

 

This freezes well, so if you're a small family or don't want to eat it all week long, put in freezer-safe boxes or jars and freeze. Keeps well for several months.

Prep Time: About 25-30 minutes

(Took me nearly an hour, but I spent time setting up shots and snapping photos.)

 

 

 

THE POWER OF THE MAILBOX


January is birthday month for me, so I'm pretty interested in the mailbox. Is that a package the carrier is delivering here? What about that sheaf of envelopes--birthday cards, maybe?

It's too early, but I can't help myself. My attraction to and fascination with the postal service have been ongoing ever since I felt the excitement of holding a piece of mail addressed to me.

The story really begins back in...well, back several years. Decades, really. I was 10 years old, had just moved to another state away from family and friends, and was living out in the country on a gravel road at least five miles from the nearest town. This was in the foothills of the Ozarks, so no road went straight anywhere--as the crow flew, distances weren't so great; as the car trudged along, it took forever, to my 10-year-old mind, to get to the town where there was a library. The library was, from that day to this, the mecca toward which I bowed and prayed. (Well, not quite, but you get the idea.) But that's another story.

Okay, I'm ten years old, just ready to have another birthday. And I know there'll be a birthday card or two from my aunts back in Illinois. But I never expected something else I got--a subscription to Silver Screen movie magazine! My stepgrandmother knew what this 11-year-old girl would want to read. The magazine came addressed to me. Every single month. I lost myself in the stories of the stars and their lives, memorizing photos of the ones I knew from the few movies I had seen. Those magazines piled up in my room. I treated them kindly so they didn't get bent or wrinkled, and I reread them till I knew them forward and backward.

After that first exhilaration of receiving mail, I looked forward to having pen pals. Those experiences were never as great as I'd thought they would be. Either the pal or I lost interest because we ran out of things to say. Hard to get a letter out to the box if nothing is going on in your life; or worse--if what is going on is better left unsaid, especially to an outsider.

A couple of years later I went to live with my dad and stepmother, and my mother wrote me every week from where she and my stepfather lived. Most of her writings were postcards--not the picture kind, but the ones bought from the post office that had acres of room on the back for messages. My mom could scrunch her handwriting down into really small script to get lots of information on the back. She had beautiful cursive writing--I read and reread those cards that whole year that we were apart. They were like having her there, talking to me. And she always reminded me that she loved me. That was best of all.

By that time I was in junior high--now called middle school--so I learned about ordering things through the mail. First came photos of my favorite movie stars--I wrote asking for an autographed picture and most of them sent one. Within a few years I was earning a little money working part time, so my correspondence escalated to orders for phonograph records--LPs from The Columbia Club. (Somebody in this audience has to remember LPs.) Jazz, both vocal and instrumental, was my category. Then I added show tunes, groups like The HiLos, and finally some piano soloists playing classical music. (In those days I called all the "serious" music classical; later I would learn about the different periods and styles. Didn't bother me that I wasn't 100% correct--ignorance never stopped me from enjoying the music.)

Despite forays into merchandise-by-mail, I never lost the attraction of personal letters. When friends graduated from high school before me, I asked them to write. Some of them did. After I married, I gained a whole new family of letter writers--in-laws (after we moved to Michigan), plus my husband's grandparents and aunt and uncle in Iowa. Because we moved around in the first years of our marriage, some of my relatives kept in touch by mail--my dad and stepmother, aunts, and a couple of cousins. In addition there were always birthday cards to receive and send--and they had to have a message inside, naturally.

To this day, my favorite mail delivery includes letters, cards with messages hand-written inside, a magazine I love to read, or a package. Sometimes I strike it lucky and get all of the above. Bonanza indeed!

I'm a pretty good pen pal these days--I've learned to write on and on about practically anything. Blogs are ideal for that talent. And maybe--just maybe--age has something to do with it. After all, several decades of experiences have to count for something, right?

Yes, I've learned to appreciate the Internet and its electronic mail that has captivated me along with millions of other folks. Yes, I do use texting. These quick corresponders keep me in touch with folks when I need to let them know something or ask a question and can't--or won't--wait for slower processes. Sometimes it's just to say hi. But it's not quite the same as a letter I can hold in my hand, knowing it's been in my cousin's or friend's hand just a few days ago, the wobbly writing signifying the labor of love of an arthritic hand. I know that person and she wrote me a letter.

The power of the mailbox--it's the great connector in an age where so much is instantaneous. "Snail" mail gives us something better than instant gratification: Anticipation. Today just might be the day for a letter or card or package. And if not today, well, there's hope for tomorrow.

That's the power of the mailbox.

HOW TO BE A RECLUSE--2014 STYLE



Winter in Northeastern Indiana

Bad weather in the past several weeks--temps 'way below zero, high winds, snow (all three together sometimes)--made me thankful for some of our current technological advances.

Amazing, 

Less than a year old but already obsolete
--thus doth technology advance.

all the services and information I could recruit with my laptop computer:

• order Christmas and birthday gifts online
• check my daughter's flight itinerary
• check the weather every few hours to see if I might get out to a local store
• check the weather to see what was closed or delayed
• check the weather and news to see what our level of danger was--mostly emergency vehicles only--that let me out

So I took the dog out for brief periods; thirty seconds was one of our shortest, setting a record. But that day the high was -3 degrees, so it was perfectly reasonable.

Otherwise I stayed indoors, wrapped gifts I already had, worked on the ones I was knitting or sewing, and listened to Christmas carols or watched White Christmas for the 359th time in 2013.

And it occurred to me how easily I could become a recluse--a person who, according to my Webster's 10th Edition, leads a secluded or solitary life. (Note: Recluse is similar to Hermit; however, a hermit often, but not always, chooses the solitary life for religious reasons.)

 

Let's look at this recluse business in a practical manner.

Take, for example, the services available for the homebound:

• chain grocery stores have websites on which you can order your groceries and have them delivered locally
• pharmacies advertise delivery service
• some companies send refrigerated trucks around town to deliver frozen foods--especially meats and desserts--to individuals who have regular or once-in-a-while accounts
• bookmobiles are a boon to the reader, or video viewer--just call and have the materials put on the van (you have to be a library patron)
• in our county, a local area transport (not a taxi service) is available through the senior center/Council on Aging to take patients to the doctor, or seniors without vehicles to shop at our grocery and discount stores; the cost is minimal

I'm getting the feeling that my car is superfluous...so I ask myself: why pay high prices at the pump, keep up insurance premiums, schedule regular maintenance, and fix everything that's starting to go wrong on my 14-year-old vehicle? I can save tons of money (gas, insurance, maintenance, and repairs add up) and use my savings to pay a modest fee to the local transport to get me to shopping, doctor appointments, and yoga  or T'ai Chi classes at the senior center.

Clearly, a senior citizen can get by with (1) a cell phone, (2) a computer with Internet access, and (3) friends or family to take up the slack.

The letter carriers on my route take my bill payments and personal notes and letters. They'd probably pick up my numerous Christmas cards. And I know they'll pick up packages if I want to mail them--just log on to the USPS site and print out a label. I can even request stamps from the carrier--next-day delivery.

If I need someone to clear my driveway of snow, I can phone. Same for leaf raking. And gutter cleaning. My cell calls their cell.

If I get nervous about a physical condition, I can look it up on the 'web first, then call a doctor.

The downside: There always is one, it seems:

• I can't see fabrics in person, when I order them from the Internet or a catalog.
• I can't feel yarn and gauge the softness to determine if it would be good for a baby hat.
• I can't look over the produce, if I order online, and see spots on a yellow pepper that would make me reject it.
• I don't get to see my children or friends face to face
• sometimes I don't even get to church, if roads are bad and snow is drifting dangerously

Partial view of my fabric stash

 

Greatgranddaughter's hat (r.)
and her doll's hat (l.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But--I think I'm okay with the downside. I've already stockpiled enough fabric and yarn to last me through the next eight to ten years, even if I make something new every week. The spots on the yellow pepper? I'll cut them out. The pepper will probably end up in veggie soup or a pot of ratatouille anyway.

I haven't yet activated the camera on my laptop or set up a Skype account. As soon as I do that I can visit with the far-flung members of our clan--see them face to face. And I keep in touch with other church members via email and phone. (Yes, a whole raft of senior citizens with cell phones and laptops. Gotta love that group.)

So if you don't see me around town or wonder if I'm traveling out and about, remember that I might be trying out the reclusive life. And if I do give it a go, I'll report back.

I have a sneaking suspicion though--once spring arrives (May, June, whenever) I'll be out in my yard, walking the dog around the block, stopping to speak to neighbors...guess it's easier to be a recluse when the weather is nasty.