Projects This Weekend

Tim made a lot of progress on the vegetable garden this weekend.  Adding layers of soil and manure bags perforated on top of the bales and planting in them.  Can't wait to see how the experiment works!

We also dug up a section of ferns to add a portable outdoor shower stand that I built over the winter that finally came upstairs.  Each summer, we drag in so much outdoor dirt from the yard and garden and the clay actually clogs up our plumbing.  We have to have a way to clean some of it off before we come in from outside.  The stand sits next to a hose faucet and we can use the cold water but our well's water is frigid! Rather than running an outdoor faucet with hot water, we will use solar heated shower bags that we set out in the morning and by the afternoon they are ready and we can take hot showers outside.  Easy, breezy as Tim always says.

A Memory

Memorial Day Weekend.  Just plain tired.  Tim got in Friday night and then we had to go run errands Saturday morning.  The truck wasn't ready to pick up from the shop so we finished grocery shopping and came home.  It was already 11 by the time we got back to the house.  The weather was a wash out so I knew we were not going to be able to get Mom's wheelchair up the front yard and I was already so late to start cooking.  We decided that we would pick her up Sunday morning and hope for the best from the weather.   I worked for hours in the yard in the rain - by the time I got to bed, my body was killing me. Before I went to bed, I put on a pot of potatoes and eggs to boil for my Mom's favorite potato salad that I promised her for lunch.

It's Sunday morning.  I cannot sleep and wake up at 4 am.  It's probably best to get an early start and I quietly pull out the bowl of potatoes and eggs to make the potato salad and put a pot on to make baked beans.  This brought back all sorts of memories of waking up in bed as a kid listening to my Mom who never seemed to sleep on holidays always up before everyone starting to cook.  You could hear her in the kitchen moving around.  I was my Mom's official food tester.  It was a privilege I had earned over the years.  While everyone else slept, I would wake up and make my way to the kitchen.  The ham, or lasagna, or turkey or sometimes all of the above would be well on it's way.  My mother cooked for an army with my Dad and 3 boys.  I would sit at the bar in the kitchen and watch her move around the kitchen.  This was when she was happiest.  Cooking. Having a purpose.  Doing things for her family.  I would just sit there and watch her.  Everything was in her head.  I don't ever remember her following recipes.  She just knew what to do.  The smell would be delicious and she would hold a spoon out to me to taste whatever she would be cooking.

One of my favorite things she made was her potato salad.  The simplest of ingredients - potatoes, eggs, celery, onion, yellow mustard and mayonnaise.  It is still one of my favorite things to eat.  Years ago, she gave me her 1960's pyrex solid stackable bowls which included this yellow bowl that she always made potato salad in it. I pull this bowl out of the cabinet because I love to show Mom that I still have it.  "Too much mustard?" "Does it need salt?"  She would ask.  I loved that first taste - it was always pretty perfect.

I start mashing potatoes and peeling eggs while I can still hear the frogs chirping outside.  I can totally understand why my Mom would love this time of day to cook meals.  I taste it and it's perfect and put it in the refrigerator to cool.  I move onto the next bowl.  I think of her the entire time hoping that she is not going to be too tired when I pick her up.  She loves being here. It makes her feel that life is normal again.  It makes me feel good that she is here in the house with us - part of our holidays together.

Swing Ideas

Just some construction ideas for building the swing in the back yard.

DIY Votive Holders

Inspired  by Asian pergoda-like lanterns, I was looking for ways to keep from tripping over left over votive holders that I will periodically put in the garden or in the yard or along the driveway to be lit at night.  I have used ball jars and recycled pattern-punched cans and bags of sand but the problem becomes that in the daytime, they get lost, ruined by weather or stepped on.  I needed a very visable but inexpensive way to house votives that are easy to find the next time you want to re-use them.  Single cinder blocks that can age naturally with moss and weather mixed with stones from the yard make for a creative way to stack and stage votives around the pond and acreage without the potential of getting lost or destroyed.  I have heard that spreading yoghurt on the cinder blocks will help to grow moss faster but I am in no hurry and they can age naturally and be left outside year round.

Thank You Tim!

Tim had this adorable watercolor made of our house for my birthday.  He got the painting this week and I absolutely love it.  Thank you, Tim, you are always so creative and thoughtful.

Mom Pics

I have numerous favorite pics of Mom.   One of them is on a poster collage I made for her  on her 70th birthday.  I have been trying to find the original scan but am still looking. I took a snap of it from the poster.  The second photo - which I think is her prettiest one - I took of her in 2015 when she moved back to New York from Texas to live with me.  We were attending her sister's 80th birthday and were going to a party. She looked so pretty in her blue twin sweater set.

Lunch with Mom 5/19/2017

They warned me when you kissed me

your love would ricochet.

Your lips would find another

and your heart would go astray.

Oh, I thought that I could hold you

with all my many charms.

But then one day

you ricocheted

to someone else’s arms.

And Baby…

I don’t want a ricochet romance.

I don’t want a ricochet love.

If your careless with your kisses 

find another turtle dove.

I can’t live on ricochet romance

no, no, not me.

If your gonna ricochet baby

I’m going to set you free.

I knew the day I met you

you had a roving eye.

I thought that i could hold you 

what a fool I was to try.

Oh, you promised you’d be faithful

and you would never stray.

But, like a rifle bullet

it began to ricochet.

And Baby…

I don’t want a ricochet romance.

I don’t want a ricochet love.

If your careless with your kisses

find another turtle dove.

I can’t live on ricochet romance

no, no, not me. 

If your gonna ricochet baby

Im gonna set you free.

When you announced our wedding

you made me mighty proud.

I whispered two was company

but you preferred a crowd.

Oh you buzzed around the other girls

just like a busy bee.

But, when you finished buzzin cousin

you buzzed back right to me.

And Baby…

I don’t want a ricochet romance.

I don’t want a ricochet love.

If your careless with your kisses

find another turtle dove.

I can’t live on ricochet romance

no, no, not me. 

If your gonna ricochet baby,

I’m gonna set you free.

If your gonna ricochet baby

Im gonna set you free.

Ricochet by Teresa Brewer 1953

Lately, I have been creating this large playlist of music on You Tube that my Mom can listen to while I am visiting her.  The playlist idea started one day as I was talking about how much I loved to watch her dance and sing when I was growing up.  We had this massive mediterranean styled stereo cabinet that she moved  around the living room re-decorating rather then playing it.  She used to play this song called “Cecilia” by Simon and Garfunkel.  She would put the album on and beat on the front of the cabinet to the percussion and sing and dance around the living room.  I loved watching her when she was in one of these silly moods.  She loved to clown around. My brother, Chris, who died in 2005 was just like her in that way.  I started to sing this song to her and her eyes lit up and she started singing with me.  When I started to sing another song she kept repeating “Cecilia” back to me.  As if, she was so happy that she remembered the lyrics.  This disease is horrible.  It is devastating to watch her face when she is struggling with what I infer is confusion with the way her mind is working right now.  She struggles to complete sentences and stares at the photographs on the wall. I have no way of knowing what she is attempting to remember and no way of knowing how to help her. 

I started the YouTube playlist that evening.  Editing and assembling a mix of 1950s to1970s songs that I knew she loved.  When I was in elementary school, my parents gave me a 45 record player for Christmas. At the same time, my Mom gave me her collection of 45 records from the 50’s and early 60’s.  I would play her 45’s on my record player and the two of us would sing her favorite songs together.   I gravitated to the songs that were quirky or silly.  I loved “Ricochet” by Teresa Brewer - her voice made these little hiccups.  “She Say Oom Dooby Doom” by The Diamonds made me laugh.   She loved everything by the Platters and The Stroll. 

Mom looked really pretty today.  There is a nurse who loves to groom and braid her hair and really takes the time to dress her.   She was wearing a teal lycra jacket that I bought her in San Antonio, a white knit top with a Clooney lace yoke and greenish-teal capri pants.   She looked adorable. Today, she had a grilled pastrami reuben and I had a caesar salad.  We tried to go back outside again after lunch but it was too cool - so we went back to her room.  We watched TV and she had some spice gum drops and orange slices.  I usually arrive every day to watch “The Price is Right” with her.  Drew Carrey hosts and he really phones in his performance.  It is obvious how miserable he is hosting this show. His sarcasm comes through and I can’t stand to watch him.  However lately, I have begun to mentally calculate the cost of the cars and trips to myself as I watch and catch myself commenting out loud “too high” or “too low."

I opened the laptop to Mom’s playlist on You Tube.  I played The Platters, Nat King Cole, and “Laura’s Theme” from Dr Zhivago.  To shake it up - I sang two songs - Ricochet by Teresa Brewer and The Singing Nun song - “Dominique” out loud like I did as a kid. It amused her.   She started speaking to me and in the middle of a thought paused to tell me that she loved me.  When I asked her if I annoyed her when I sang - she told me that I was adorable.  I know she thinks I am loud and she told me that as well - “you are so loud.”  I played some Connie Francis and she requested “Mama.” This song depresses me but I played it for her anyway.  She started talking about how this song came out the same year that her and her mother were fighting.  Shortly thereafter, Mom moved from New York to California.  Mom has a hard time talking in full sentences but suddenly she was sharing complete memories about her own mother who died a couple years after she moved to Los Angeles.  It was so good to hear her talk normally.  I watched her train of thought working.  Tears came to her eyes and I knew exactly what she was thinking about and I tried to distract her again with another loud annoying silly version of Ricochet.  It seemed to work and shortly thereafter - I put her down for a nap and headed home. 

Weedeater Graveyard

Weedeaters come to this place to die, I have decided.  They are the bane of my existence.  Because there is so much rock, the ground is always heaving and the voles root under the ground causing all these ruts in the grass is why I have to use them instead of a traditional mower.  I use the mower mostly around the house. Today was not a mower day.  

Our leeching field is quite large and has to be mowed at least a couple times each summer.  I try and catch it early on and just mow the shit out of it.  The worst problem is these damn wild blackberry bushes.  They grow everywhere and are thorny and ugly.  If I don’t wear the proper attire - gloves, long sleeve shirts, jeans, protective eyewear and good shoes - I walk away bloody.  We have tried for years to find a local kid who wants to make money who would come in and mow for us a couple times for the  summer. No kids for miles. Wait, there are kids but the annoying kind who don’t like to mow. We pay handsomely. However, the larger landscapers want contracts and charge a fortune.  We only need it a couple times a summer so it falls into my lap.  I try and do it early in the summer to kill all the blackberry bushes and then later in the summer when the Golden Rod and Milkweed are coming up.  

Our other issue is that we live far enough away from any gas station to just make it incredibly inconvenient when we are out of gas for outdoor tools. I have learned my lesson - there is nothing more frustrating when you realize you are out of gas and have to get in a car and drive 30 minutes to load up on gas to bring back to the house.  Plus, I don’t like to store a lot of gas especially on hot days in a hot shed.  That is the reason we have electric weedeaters.  They have to be light enough to hold and use for long periods of time.  I use them like a big scythe when I am working across the leeching field.  It can take me hours and days to do the leeching field.  I break it up into increments of time early or late in the day so it’s not too hot.  I load up the three weedeaters with full spools so I don’t have to start and stop as often to rethread them.  If I have to stop and rethread a spool - it breaks my momentum and I want a drink.  This morning, the weather was perfect and after a couple cups of coffee - I was ready to go.  I ran the electric cord down to the field, lay out the weedeaters and gunned the motor - “Goodbye Suckers!”  Two hours later, I have only a third of the leeching field completed. I am covered in grass and bugs and three spool-less weed eaters lying on the ground exhausted.

It is at that moment, that I have an epiphany.  I wish I had a child.  Not a child, a teenager.  A healthy teenager with a good work ethic equipped with their own power tools.  Now I get it, that is why people have children - to do yard work. Duh?  God knows, I did enough yard work for my Dad.  If I could adopt a teenager with power tools that is what I would do.  At least for the summer.  No, maybe I could use them for winter for shoveling snow too?  A foster teenager?    I put the weedeaters and electric cords away for another day.  It’s 11 am and time for a cocktail. 

Lunch with Mom 5/18/2017

It was going to be a nice day so I hauled my ass around for two hours to mow the leeching field this morning.  I quit at 10:30 and called in my order for lunch to pick up sandwiches and salads.  I took a shower but had to put on my dirty Levis and LL Bean rubber moccasins and they were covered in grass. I had on a Wal-Mart short sleeve blue plaid shirt and a baseball cap with Savannah embroidered on it from a vacation we took in February. I haven’t shaved for days.  I carry over a tote bag full of my Mom’s favorite candies and snacks.  Spice drops, swedish fish, gummy bears, orange slices, wheat thins, mango sorbet, yoghurt covered peanuts, a virtual corner bodega.  She was alert today and chatty. We ate till she was full. 

Afterwards, she asked if we could go sit outside and I said yes.  She had heard that it was going to be sunny and 91 degrees.  I have to allow myself to be very spontaneous with her these days. Some days are good and others are not. If she has a good day, I do anything she wants and stay as long as she wants.   I got her into her wheelchair and took her outside. It was sunny, breezy and warm.  I walked her down the driveway to the hill overlooking the mountain - the green hillside and the beautiful blue sky. We sat there with the sun to her back so she could feel it but not have it bother her eyes.  I stood there looking at the view and realizing days like this will not happen very often. No need to get back to the house. Let’s enjoy the day.  I wheeled her around the parking lot and then we parked at the edge of the entrance porch just inside enough for shade but still with a view of the mountain.  It was beautiful and she really seemed to enjoy it.  She sat there in her wheelchair. She was wearing this purple printed paisley knit top that my Aunt Gail had given her.  A pair of jeans and pink and grey slip on sneakers that Tim had bought for her for her birthday last year.  Her hair was pulled back into a pony tail tied with a purple elastic cord that matched the color in the knit top.  She closed her eyes and rested her head on her hands and we felt the sun and breeze and watched the white clouds move across the sky.  This elderly man pulled up in a car and we watched him as he pulled out the walker in the back seat to help his wife walk into the nursing home.  I won’t begin to think about being separated from your partner because you are too old to take care of your loved ones.  I stop the thought.  I close my eyes to feel what my Mom is feeling.  People come and go from the door to the nursing home and circle around the two of us sitting  there together dead center in the walkway.  I had walked into the lobby and grabbed a chair so I could sit with her outside.  We sat there and I held her hand and stroked her hair and we talked about how smooth her hands felt after I had put hand lotion on them the day prior.  We talked about how we could do this all summer. We watched the large cloud shadows move across the parking lot asphalt and across the mountain in our view.  People came and went. She got sleepy and we decided to go in for a nap.  Before we moved inside, I wrapped my arms around her from behind and told her that I loved her and what a nice lunch we had had. I smelled her hair and told her that she smelled good.  Shampoo and Red Door perfume.  I put her into bed, asked her what she wanted for lunch the next day, kissed her head, told her I loved her and picked up my tote and left.  The minute the elevator hit the lobby, the tears started falling.  I have no control over my tear ducts these days.  I walk past the elderly man in the lobby sitting by himself reading a newspaper. He has no where to go or anyone to be with and there is no place to sit upstairs with all the patients where his wife must be.  

I  get home and make a drink.  It's 2 pm. It's hot outside and there are these vampire-like little flies biting me for the past three days. It's going to be a long afternoon. 

Straw Bale Gardening

The new vegetable garden is well on it's way.  Tim's parents cleared the space last summer and we started to put up fence posts and metal fencing panels but have a long way to go.  However, we went ahead and put in all the bales.  This is rock country so top soil is at a minimum.  We lay down the bales and with all the rain we have had - they are ready to fill with manure and bags of soil.  They will eventually all compost into large rows and will create our garden.  Very excited and we made our first trip to pick up veggie plants to plant next week.

Compost Bin

After 8 years of loyally composting - we have nothing to show for it.  Unfortunately, we have tried a series of unfortunate experiments in composting piles that either got destroyed by bears or have been taken over by chipmunks and a stray cat named Queso.  After all this time, there is nothing to show for all of that hard work.  It was time to build something substantial to contain and really do the job.  Spent a couple days building this 36" square bin - one of three that will have to be built.  The front door which is latched opens to shovel and remove the compost.  The lid lifts up and allows easy access for dumping the compost material.  Tim is very excited.  This will be our first year pile and then we will build additional bins of the same size and after three years will be able to use the compost from the first bin for the garden.  A major time commitment but worth it.

Birthday Boy

It was my birthday this week but I just wanted to keep it low key.  Tim took the week off and we drove up to Cooperstown for the day.  We started having breakfast at the Delhi Diner in Delhi and then drove up to Otsego Lake where Cooperstown is located.  We hung out at the Farmer's Museum and the gorgeous Fenimore Art Museum.  The Farmer's Museum is awesome - incorporating historical farm buildings and homes from the 1700s and 1800s moved there to tell a story about farm life of that era.  I am a huge fan of Jeffersonian Agrarian life and so this was right up my alley.  Great history, arts and crafts and cute chickens everywhere.  The museum store is full of wonderful gifts. I will become a frequent visitor - I am sure of that!

The Fenimore Art Museum is beautiful.  Fenimore Cooper of "The Last of the Mohicans" fame owned the original property but it was later bought by a judge who built the impressive stone Federal style home.  The grounds lead to expansive views of Otsego lake.  An interesting mix of exhibits from Native American artwork to more contemporary art.  With a drive around the lake to view the homes and Glimmerglass theatre and state park - it was a great day.  Finished with dinner in Delhi. Thanks Tim for an awesome day.

Mother's Day Weekend

Lots going on this week and this weekend.  Tim took the week off and we did a lot of work around the house.  More on this later.   Tim made this amazing brunch.  A sausage/potato/gruyere quiche and then his Mom's rhubarb desert from our own rhubarb in our garden.  Mom got a couple new garden hats for the summer.  Nice brunch and then a quiet afternoon with reading and naps.