You can be sure I wasn’t PLANNING to have baked potatoes for dessert. A week prior to my fiasco, John and I were in the supermarket with the house brand, no-fat Greek yogurt on the list. We usually substitute this yogurt for sour cream. John picked up plain vanilla yogurt instead – a quart of the stuff. We noticed it as we were putting things in the refrigerator, and John said it was no problem, that he’d eat it as a snack.
Fast forward a week. Because John made the first mistake, I insisted on picking up the no-fat Greek yogurt myself. You can imagine I did it with a disdainful flourish. Later that day, I was rushing things to the table and accidentally picked up the vanilla yogurt on the refrigerator door. Realizing my mistake, I returned it and looked on the shelf where there was one carton of vanilla yogurt and one of Greek yogurt. Confidently I picked up the Greek yogurt. John added only butter to his baked potato, but I ground sea salt over mine plus black pepper – PLENTY of black pepper! You’d think it had been riding in an open car behind a steam engine. I was surprised the yogurt had been opened, but I put a generous spoonful on the potato and spread it around with my fork. I wish the toy camera had been ready. There is no telling what expressions crossed my face. I whipped that silly container toward me and read, “Vanilla Greek Yogurt.”
Neighbor Shawn told us 5-year-old Logan asked to come over to our house every day. We said it was fine, and a few days later the doorbell rang. Enter one cute little whirlwind. As I talked to him, John slipped in the kitchen to remove the M&M’s. We normally keep nuts and candies on the counter, but Logan is not allowed sweets right now. Within ten seconds he was on tiptoe, trying to see what was in the dish. I poured out some cashews for him. If he were disappointed, he didn’t show it.
John commented on the horses running down the pasture, lifting Logan to look out the window. He streaked toward the back door, asking to go out. While I was outside with Logan, John finished putting boxes in the attic and pushed the ladder back up. We laughed later at all that might have happened if the boy had spied that ladder. Meanwhile, Logan and I talked to the horses. Without thinking, I turned to pick him up. It has probably been 15 years since I picked up a child. Logan isn’t heavy, but for a moment I didn’t think he’d make it up on my hip. How embarrassing to get old without noticing!
Back in the house, I wondered if Shawn knew Logan was with us. I texted her that we were enjoying him. The boy requested Curious George, which he had seen on our TV set once before. We knew we didn’t have a DVD of it, but we did find a channel with children’s programming. I took a quick photo of this man-in-the-making. Logan was wielding the remote like a pro. Are male children born knowing how to use a remote?
We don’t know if Logan decided to leave because he was tired or because he finished all the nuts. In any case, he announced he was leaving. I watched until I saw his front door open and close, knowing he was safely home. When I sat down to write about our whirlwind visit, it occurred to me that we might be living the cartoon strip Dennis the Menace. We are an old couple being visited by a young neighbor. I resemble George’s wife, and Logan would be Dennis without the irritating qualities. John doesn’t quite fit as George, because he loves talking and playing with children. Give us a few years. We might become crotchety in time.
If anyone could break a toe using an exercise bicycle, it’s yours truly. After all, I’m the one who fell off Lise’s stationery bike. No bones were broken, but I had massive bruises that decency forbade me to show off proudly.
The present tale began on Thanksgiving Day when my brother brought his exercise bicycle for me to use. I was thrilled to have it. We put it on the screened porch where I could use it on days that were not fit for walking outside. Recently I used it when Lise went out there to smoke. I thought I could chat with her, but the fan part was a little too noisy. There was a pro and a con. I could improve my health while she damaged hers – not exactly fair.
An aside: Lise told me what happened when she smoked at my dad’s house. He had quit smoking decades before, but he loved the smell of cigarette smoke. He actively encouraged her bad habit by saying, “Come on out and smoke. I’m not going to begin again, but I want to use your second-hand smoke.”
My over eagerness backfired. I had walked to the creek, but I decided I’d rev up my brain between bouts of backups on the computer. I’m rather paranoid about losing files and photos, so once a month everything is copied to flash drives and an external drive. It’s best to take a break so I don’t get confused. I was out there for the third time when my foot slipped off the pedal. Wham! It hit something quite solid, a bar that you might use to pick up the machine. A second later the right handlebar jumped off. Son $ came outside to smoke, finding me entwined in the bike, muttering about a broken toe and trying to see how to put the bike back together. He couldn’t fix it, either, so I came back inside to do something fun – write about my toe, which by then had quit hurting. A big toe jutting out at an odd angle would have made a much more exciting story.
A week later on a warm afternoon I looked at the bicycle again. $ was on the right track. John came out and tightened a nut for me, and the bike was ready to ride. It still loosens itself, so I’ll have to tighten it every five minutes while pedaling.
Grieving with friends who have lost a spouse is new to me. You want to let them know you are thinking of them and that you care about what they are going through. You don’t want to hit raw nerves to cause more pain.
Church filled with friends celebrating Margaret’s life
We went out to lunch with James, whose wife Margaret died a few weeks ago. With ritual American manners, we asked, “How ARE you?”
James graciously told us he had a stock answer for that question. He says, “I’m adjusting, but I don’t like it.”
What a marvelous answer! Conversation bore it out when he talked of driving to see most of his relatives, saying, “I drove solo for 2,000 miles without my navigator.”
His characteristic wit and good humor came through. He spoke of downsizing because he is moving to a smaller place in February. He said, “On that long trip, I took things back to my children that they hadn’t necessarily requested.”
In recent years he and Margaret celebrated Thanksgiving with friends. Although he had perhaps 10 invitations this year, he opted to help feed others. The day before the holiday he carved turkeys, and he helped clean up after the meal on Thursday. They served 150 people that day.
I shared with James something Amy laughed about. She went to a regular doctor’s appointment. She said, “You always fill out the same forms every time you go. Looks like they could keep it on file so you wouldn’t have to do that, but they don’t. I came to the line to check off married, single, or other. What am I now? Ron is dead. Does that make me OTHER? I’m not sure I want to be OTHER.”
Later that day I quoted James’ stock answer to Amy. She agreed it was good. She said, “When people ask me how I am, I tell them it depends on the day. I’m new at this, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”
I’ve come to the conclusion that death is something you never get used to. Those with a vibrant faith in God know they will someday be reunited in heaven. Today I’m thinking particularly of Peg, Sue, Marty, Carol, Linda, Tom, and Ruth whose spouses died in the last few years or a bit longer. I love you and will continue to pray for you.
Lise’s departure had been on the calendar for weeks. We knew we had to let her go. John parked in the cell phone waiting area at the airport while I went in the terminal to have a few more minutes with her. That was my reason. Her plan was to demonstrate how easy it would be for us to get on a plane to Denmark. As she walked toward security, I phoned John to circle around to pick me up. Back came a call from him – the Jeep Commander wouldn’t start. Thank heavens that parking lot was within walking distance of the terminal! John knew the problem was not the battery, because all the lights were working. He turned the key, and nothing happened. My mental threats to the vehicle had no effect, either. He called AAA to send a tow, and we settled down to wait. The car was warm enough while the sun was shining on it. Lise’s plane took off when the clouds in the west were pink and lavender. We began to get a little chilly, wearing only light jackets. Finally the tow truck (called a wrecker by the driver) arrived and loaded up the disabled Jeep. We climbed into the warm cab and set off.
The driver was not particularly talkative, but John wanted to butter him up before asking him to drop us off at home. Unfortunately, we’re getting good at being rescued. Half a year ago we were stuck at Bridal Veil Falls when the Jeep wouldn’t start. The tow truck dumped the vehicle at our local garage and took us home. John began chatting to the man. I questioned John later about the conversation, saying I had not understood half the man’s words.
“I didn’t, either!” declared John. He thought the man grew up in a small mountain town on the NC/SC border. He may have had a mountain accent, but it was nothing like the speech of locals in our area.
That big truck came all the way to our drive, and John tipped the driver as we got out. Instead of using our drive and backing into Jean’s, he backed all the way up the street. Amy said she noticed a lot of lights and wondered what was going on. I wouldn’t be surprised if Shawn and Bob heard all the backup beeps. We couldn’t have announced our homecoming in a more public fashion.
As we walked past the poor old heap the next morning, John tried to start it. No go. I walked to the creek while he went inside to arrange for the repairman to look at it. We spent much of the day in Asheville and checked back on the way home. The owner said he got in the Jeep an hour after John did, and it started immediately. Four times during the day it started as if nothing had ever been wrong with it. We drove it home, but Jeepers! who in their right mind would trust it now?
I suspect I evaded the cameras on Thanksgiving and the day after, so I don’t have proof that I looked homeless. I was presentable enough on the holiday, wearing a green top and black jeans. As usual, the following day I wore the same clothes to walk. People were up and waiting for us when we got home, so I went into high gear to get breakfast on the table. Of course, we visited at the table and drifted into the kitchen to chat. I planned to shower and change clothes when there was a natural break. Well, the natural break never came, not while I kept talking. On the spur of the moment, we went to the dish barn down the road, and after that, we ate leftovers for a late lunch. By then I had quit thinking of getting clean. After Beth and Bob left for home, I wanted to write before the young set came home. The clock chimed six times. Well, who showers for the day at 6? Might as well go to bed dirty. The next morning I didn’t have any already-worn clothes except the ones that were double dirty. I’d wear them only to walk to the creek with John and visitor Chris, or so I thought. We saw Amy on the way out and invited her to have breakfast with us. It’s marvelous having neighbors who can do things on the spur of the moment. We had some good laughs at the table, but I knew the next activity had to take place inside the shower. I was afraid that at any moment someone might tell me that I SMELLED homeless.
I had the phone with me in the bathroom. Son $ rang, asking, “Where is everybody? I’m here in the kitchen.”
I replied, “Lise and Chris aren’t dressed yet, Dad is at church and I’m in the bathroom, stark naked.”
$ quickly said, “I’ll stay in the kitchen.”
I told him I’d be with him before he finished a cup of coffee, which I was. Later Lise and Chris saw the horses in the pasture next door and asked if I had apples. I had saved six cores from the pie and had other junk apples. They enjoyed giving the animals treats and petting them.
Chris and Lise talking to the horses next door
$ opened the door to my brother Bob and Beth. John came back shortly after that, and we noshed on spinach dip until the turkey was done. $ had two other dinners to attend, so he left before we got down to the serious business of eating. We had standard fare – turkey, dressing, gravy, frozen cranberry salad, green bean casserole, and sweet potato casserole (made from fresh potatoes this year and well worth the minimal effort).
Bob, Beth, John, Lise, and Chris with the remains of Thanksgiving dinner
Bob asked Beth how her team was doing, cause for turning on the TV. Beth watched the game as the rest of us wondered about the blue shoes on the football players. I daresay our household was unusual in that only one woman was following the action. Her team won, so we were all happy.
John pointed out the huge newspaper for the day, mostly ads. All but Chris from England laughed at ourselves for having participated in at least one Black Friday spree in the past. We dove into the stack of ads to see what we would not go out to buy the next day. Chris and Lise said European merchants are catching on, and they are having Black Friday shopping days without the Thanksgiving Day prelude. In Denmark the words came straight from English and were not translated into Danish.
Beth, Bob, Chris, John, and Lise looking at Black Friday ads
Someone asked was it time for dessert, and that was hours after the turkey was put away. Instead of supper, we had cranberry mince pie and pumpkin cheesecake. Appreciation was high.
Our after dinner entertainment was listening to Bob play the French horn. He practices every day and is improving greatly. I think he had just started the last time he was here several months ago. He is proficient playing the trombone and is probably still good on the trumpet. He can also play the saxophone, clarinet, flute and musical saw. My shoe was untied as I walked toward the piano to accompany him. That sparked the next phase of entertainment as Bob demonstrated Beth’s knot. He first did it on my shoe and repeated it several times so that Lise and Chris would learn. By the last time, my head was almost on the keyboard as I struggled to keep my leg stretched out toward the sofa. Bob removed his own shoe and handed it to Chris to practice.
At the end of the day, I refolded Chris’ jumper (sweater) to help it dry. He washed all the tops he had worn, and Lise discovered they couldn’t be put in the dryer. The tags said to dry flat. I offered to take one to put it on the heated towel rack. Who could have predicted to what lengths that jumper would go to get the sleeves dry?
My name is Suki, my human is a writer, and this is about my world. The world according to Suki The Cat. My humans smell funny, look weird, and I can't understand a thing they say, but they feed me, so hey, what are you gonna do?
Mehrling Muse 