The End of the Cheerios

If you've read Thrift (and you should cause it's one of my best!), you know I come from a Depression-mentality household.  For all my life, I have known a well-stocked — well, let's be honest — OVERstocked pantry.  Be it a closet or a cabinet or both, I always have a significant supply of bottled, boxed, canned, or dry goods and am capable of feeding many, should the situation arise.  If twelve people unexpectedly appeared on my doorstep and I (or anyone else) couldn't feed them, it would be a black mark you could not escape.  

For the rest of your life it would be,

"Remember when so-and-so stopped over and she didn't have enough food?" 

This is how I was raised.

Ironically, I married in to a family where this was not the case.  It was the very opposite.   My introduction to my eventual mother-in-law was a dinner she hosted with five people and on the table was a bowl with five — only FIVE potatoes — and they weren't even big ones!  I don't know that I ever got over that shock.  It may have made me increase my stock of staples.



Today, in the time of Corona, I finished all the Cheerios.


I ALWAYS have Cheerios.  They're a basic.  

I buy the family size.

I mix them with one or two other cereals to dress them up.

And while three other cereal bags still remain (each less than 1/3 full) to be eaten, 

and I certainly don't eat cereal every week, 

AND I don't even have any milk, it points to the greater issue.  

My stock is diminishing.  I am seeing the back wall and space on my shelves for the first time.   
Maybe ever.

 

I know, I know.  This looks like a lot.  And I'm only one person.  And yes, it IS a lot and I am truly grateful for the abundance I'm so fortunate to have.





Still, day by day, it's shrinking.

        
I started to make cold sesame noodles — no peanut butter! 

And there's only angel hair pasta. [Yes, I see the box of penne rigate but that's really not an option for cold sesame noodles.]

             
Thought about whipping up some hummus — only one can of garbanzo beans!


Wanted to bake some peach-bourbon barbecued chicken thighs.  Not only was there no bourbon, there were NO preserves of ANY kind.


I just used one of the last two cans of tuna.  And they're not even the big ones.

GEEZ.

All I can say is...

My father 

is turning over 

in his grave.

Where Has All My Focus Gone?

In this time of Corona, I lack focus. I meander through the day without any purposeful plan.  I'm grateful if I have a Zoom get-together or plan a walk with a friend or organize a meal with my family — all at a distance.  These small things give me something to look forward to and focus on.

But what about the rest of the day?  What about all the directives that say how important it is to make and stick to a routine?  Why am I having trouble doing that?

I'm a list maker.  There is nothing so satisfying as making a list and then crossing stuff off of it.  And when I do something that's not on the list, I add it on and cross it off because I love the way that it looks and how it makes me feel; as if I've been accomplishing.

You would think I'd be making my lists.  The way I always do.

But I'm not.

Lord knows there are plenty of projects to do in my house...

Clean out that closet. (ALL the closets!)

Straighten out ALL the jewelry.

Switch out the winter clothes and bring the spring/summer ones in.




And start that BIG project you've been thinking about. (That's another story.)













But it's just not happening.  

I had a productive hour a while ago.  Told myself to turn off the 27th rerun of The Hunger Games: Catching Fire and I actually folded all the laundry piled up on my bed and put it all away AND made the bed for the first time in more than a week. Tonight I will not be sleeping among the clean clothes. [I just want to say those pillowcases actually match better than they appear.]

But my productivity doesn't last.  Seems I'm not the only one.

I hear about this malaise, lack of focus, from just about everyone.  And while there's clearly a minority of those who are making the most of this time at home, even able to enjoy their isolation (that's another story), for many it's a rocky, rocky road.

The readers can't read, 

                           the writers can't write, and 

                                                               the artists aren't creating.

The things that usually bring us pleasure, escape us in this time of Corona.

To all of you who are housebound, we will find our focus. 

And most fortunately... at least the gardeners are out there thriving.

--------------------------

PS All is not lost. I did finish the puzzle and here she be...

Back to the Jigsaw

I guess I'm ahead of the curve — CBS Sunday Morning had a feature about people dragging out their jigsaw puzzles during this time of quarantine. A few days before I'd finished my first 1000-piece puzzle in a very long time.   My stash is behind the couch.

There's a rhythm with puzzles.  Or at least there is for me.  You find all the straight edges and get your frame. Then you find some chunk to work on that's visually unique — for me it was the stripes.






Next, things start to take shape and you get more chunks done.








Then come the hard parts, where's really tough to fill in the areas that all look the same...  




But in the end, SUCCESS.  You've done it.  And this puzzle was a double whammy because it was like those I Spy books where the images were of  other things...90 other things, for example, the slats in the chairs are Milk Bone dog biscuits and that radiator next to the fridge is comprised of stubby Number 2 pencils — you get the picture. 

Our family has always done puzzles and when the kids were young we'd actually 
spray adhesive the completed puzzle on foam core and hang them on the walls.  

As an adult I've done some 
that are more Americana...

and others that are Biblical in image and difficulty.

                                                                   

Virtually all of my puzzles come from thrift stores and don't cost more than $2.  

I especially appreciate the former owners who leave a post-it inside that says, "Missing three pieces" 

It is a great kindness.

I don't let those missing pieces bother me in the least.

Some are fun and frivolous ...

   

...and others I just admire in the store and think about doing...but won't spend the money on.  (Though anything by Edward Gorey is awful tempting.)










Now I'm working on a puzzle that was a gift from my ex...and boy, is it a challenge; it's the front page of The New York Times on the day I was born.




This one's got a lot of hard parts — sigh — 

Good thing I've got all the time in the world to read all that teeny-tiny print...

In the Time of Corona

I can't imagine how many people are are probably using that title or thinking about their lives in terms of this virus that has captured the attention of the world by wreaking upon us a global crisis.

It troubles me that even this, this which is devastating populations and disrupting life the way we knew it, still hasn't mobilized the world, the country to work together.

I always have these big ideas that don't go anywhere because I'm not in charge.  I have long thought that our government should have had the forethought to establish regional coalitions of public and private entities who were organized to respond to natural and human-made disasters.  Partnerships that detailed what would be done by whom and how  in concert with one another.  Then when disaster strikes, as it will and does, we would be prepared and working together.

I heard that Belgium shut down its restaurants and bars but the Netherlands did not, so people just crossed the border to have their beer and party.   And the virus followed.

Honestly, I'm not sure what day I started keeping to myself and limiting my contact with others.  I remember beginning to be aware of things the week of March 9.  I continued to do some things with people, perhaps more carefully, but not with distancing.

My son was the one who insistently sounded the alarm with me and his father. He kept at it and got his father to work from home a week before it became the norm.  He financially stepped up to get his sister out of New York City and back home.  And he stipulated she'd have to stay with him and away from us for two weeks because she'd been to Mardi Gras and NYC, both hotspots.  I am so grateful to him for his persistence in getting his family members to treat this situation seriously.

Sheltering-in-place is particularly difficult when you are an extrovert, live alone, and can't recharge your battery by being with people.  

This imposed isolation has taken its toll.  There are days in a row that I don't shower or get dressed.  My individual therapy appointment has been on the phone and gone well but I recently joined a group and therapy on Zoom is not working for me.  I hope that improves.

Every day I tell myself how incredibly fortunate I am to have my little home, a stocked pantry, and the ability to turn on a faucet and get water (hot water) any time I wish.  I hope I remain grateful for all that I do have.

Not being a gardener, I don't have that outdoor thing to sink in to and my knees are problematic, so I'm not able to bike or walk sufficiently.  The knee replacement surgery that took a year to get scheduled is not happening April 20th.  Even though it has yet to be cancelled, I can't imagine wanting to be in any hospital right now and how or whom would be willing to come take care of me for the six-eight weeks I'd need help.

There are so many things I could be doing: every closet and drawer need to be cleaned out, there's a shed out back that could use reorganizing, my silverware and jewelry need polishing, my jewelry is a whole n'other story and easily could take a day.  But motivation is lacking.

My coping mechanism is cooking. I cook and then have too much food that I pack up and give away — at a distance.  My kids, ex, and friends are the beneficiaries and that gives me some pleasure.

I struggle to make a schedule, set some goals, focus on anything.  Without a routine, time is floating.  I've always been a night owl so my usual bedtime of 1-2 am has shifted even later.  Right now it's 3:09 am and I'm wide awake.  

TV is my friend.  It always has been and now I just silently pray that DirectTV and the internet keep working.

Maybe I'll be able to get back to writing on a regular basis, the way I did when I started this blog eight years ago — when I was still married, still working, and posting twice a week religiously.  Perhaps this will again become an outlet for me, a way of communicating with others I know and many I don't.  I just looked at my blog stats and saw that last month there were 743 page views in Sweden!  Hello out there in Scandinavia!  That motivated me.

Tonight I attended a 70th birthday party via Zoom.  The birthday girl was my dear friend's sister and they'd expected to be celebrating together in Barcelona.  Instead of Spain, 14 people from six or seven states sang, toasted, spoke over one another, had technical difficulties, and were all amazed that technology allowed for such a virtual gathering.

We're going to get through this.  We're going to struggle.  We're going to need support.  I hope reaching out helps.

Stay well...

Getting Ready for the Snow

It's 2:11 am and I've finally finished with the snowstorm prep.  It took me until 10:42 pm to get started.  Oh, I'd gone out the day before to buy lemons and milk. I had plenty else but still there were things on sale and so I bought them.  Ground turkey and shoulder veal chops and a large bag of kale.  But at 10:42 I realized that we'd probably lose power and what did I need to cook?  Cooked food would stay longer and certainly could be stored outside if it was THAT cold. So I started with the zucchini bread.  The recipe would make two loaves, it would be good for breakfast or dessert and I'd have a loaf at least to give away if I ended up going to another house with a fireplace.  I love my little rental house filled with all the things I love and bring me joy but alas the TWO fireplaces are boarded up (very nicely painted with contrasting trim) and it is the one material thing I miss from before.

Once I got the zucchini bread in the oven I thought about the turkey chili and realized that I could use the extra grated zucchini in there, so I chopped the red and orange peppers that were beginning to lose their crisp, and an onion, and the ground turkey, and that shredded zucchini — and that would mean that I could fill up the dishwasher once I got through cooking.

Then there was the first-time-ever crock pot-made Gypsy soup (using up the last of the sweet potatoes my daughter failed to make at Thanksgiving) that I'd done and then pureed. I wish I'd driven it over to a friend of a friend who can only eat pureed foods. Well, I bottled that soup and thought if I washed the crockpot I could transfer the chili to it (once it was done) and then leave it on warm all night. If the power went, maybe the chili would stay warm. The fridge already had jasmine rice that would go well and there was some sour cream, shredded cheddar, and cilantro to put on top. The veal had already baked in the oven with celery and onions and tomatoes and yellow peppers, white wine, rosemary, thyme and lemon zest. That too would go well with the jasmine rice underneath and the very last of the parsley from my container garden on the porch.


 

    



There was a sink full of pots and 
pans and the crock pot and the loaf pans but finally, finally, it was all done. When I took the recyclables and garbage outside, the first dusting of snow was covering the cars and the ground.  It's not supposed to stop for 48 hours.

It's now 3:28 am and I still haven't put the flannel sheets on my bed but at least the food prep is done.  Old habits die hard...I'm still cooking for a family of four!  Still I was motivated: I got this post written and struggled with formatting the photos.  Something I haven't done in almost 18 months. 

Thanks to my ex, the artificial tree is out of the shed loft and assembled where it needs to reside in the living room.  I added more lights and started to decorate the house but there's lots to do once tomorrow comes...well, actually it already came.

3:44.  I've put the eyedrops in and think it's time to shut down.  With all this prep, let's hope I can sleep. I'm hoping to get back my writing groove — hopefully this was the start.  In the meantime, wishing you and yours the happiest of holidays and — flannel sheets or not, stay warm!!

Headed Toward Normal

from countryliving.com

It was 11:07 PM when I first walked into the kitchen. I finally stop watching TV (though Sunday night is filled with TV favorites) and got up to DO something.  It wasn’t as if I hadn’t done anything all day; it had been a productive day on many fronts — I’d made a chicken and broccoli salad that I took to a friend’s to lunch and help reorganize kitchen cabinets — a fun job for me and helpful to her.

I’d gone to help the once-husband unpack a carload of our daughter’s stuff that he’d just helped pack and drove to his house to unload and store; and I’d decided to see (via email) if it was possible to arrange a weekend reunion with some college friends in a city where none of us lived.

I had my lists of to-dos (getting ready to leave town for my nephew’s wedding) and among the many items was making a tomato tart.  I had tomatoes freshly picked from a friend’s neighbor and now there was a possibility my friend and her family might come for dinner and I didn’t have any idea of what I would make.  But the tomato tart would come in handy. I needed to get up and make it.

While I was slicing the onions and sautéing them (with olive oil and the lemon thyme I’d just cut from my little garden) I started thinking about a question someone asked someone else in my presence:  

“When were you the happiest?”

That was some question. It wasn’t a question I’d ever thought about answering.. And while I was trying to think of my answer to that question, surprisingly the answer just popped up —  “Now.”

That was surprising.   There were so many happy-s in my life:  Happy when I met my husband; happy when we got married; happy when I had my kids; happy at so many times but (and this was “but” big) all those times I was happy, I was also saddled with stress and/or worry.  Always.  My other twins: stress and worry.

All of those happy occasions in my past were times when I was in control, managing a lot, taking care of a lot — people and things.  I was orchestrating my life and theirs.  No one asked me or demanded I do it.  It was my mission.  It was what I thought was my lot in life and I was pretty good at it but it wasn’t great for my relationships and it wasn’t ever carefree.

Now most of my day, my every day, is spent only on taking care of me.. It’s a pretty easy job!  For the most part I feel happy and content.  I may have times when I wish I weren’t alone and times when I wish I had a partner to do things with — things like listening to music, dancing, or trying out a new recipe on.   And I’d like to be working some, but that hasn’t worked out yet but still — for the most part, life is good and I’m not worried!  I just signed a new lease (Has it been a year already?), my physical issues are behind me at the moment and I don’t have much stress.

I’ve never lived this way before. Living this way now is really a gift; and whatever it cost to get this gift, well, I guess right now I’m feeling the payoff.  It was 11:30 at night and I was doing exactly what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it.  That is my life these days.  Amazingly.

It’s been two long years of real transition but right now — I think I’m starting to edge into the phase of what might become my new normal.

I’ll keep you posted.