All posts by Dona

Walking with Sandy

Death, Life, , , , ,

Since the beginning of 2015 six people I knew died (well, one died in late December, but I heard about it in January.

Harold, my sister-in-law’s father died first. He was in his nineties and had declined a lot over the past year, but he was going strong a few years ago. I’ll save more about him for another, longer tribute.

Audrey was next. She was the mother of another sister-in-law (married to the twin of the sister-in-law who lost her father a few days before). Audrey was also in her nineties (or late eighties) and was ready to go. She was always kind and we talked at my husband’s family gatherings.

Around the same time I learned that Georgainne, a woman with whom I taught when I first moved to Alexandria, had died around Christmas. She was also in her eighties — which shocked me because she always seemed so young. We used to have long talks after school about everything under the sun — and once we went to see Cats together.

Nearer the end of the month Jack died. He was Marcia’s father and larger-than-life to me when I was a kid. I was a little afraid of him until I was at least in my thirties. Here’s what I said about him in a post about vacationing in Wisconsin:

Jack, Marcia’s dad, was a man-of-all-trades if there ever was one. He could build you a house, lay your carpet and build your furniture without consulting a book or expert. He also knew how to organize a group of people to help build that house. Some would say he was bossy. He’d say he was efficient. Either way, he got the job done with the help of his friends.

In February George died after a battle with cancer. I met George online in 1998. I met him in person the following year and several times thereafter. He belonged to an online group that I also belonged to. While I have a lot to say about George, the most prominent thing that I think about when I think about him (who will also get a separate blog post tribute) is the fact that in all the years that I knew him I never heard (or read) him say any a nasty thing about anyone. Not once. He was the kindest, most gentle man I’ve known.

About 40 minutes after George died, Sandy died. I knew Sandy from my kids elementary school. My son and her son were friends for a few years and Sandy and I served on the PTA together, but I’d not seen her at least since Andrew was in high school. She was always active and sweet and good to everyone. She made everyone feel better about being alive, I think. It occurred to me, when I discovered that she was in hospice (she’d actually died the afternoon of the evening I found out she was ill), that I’d undoubtedly thought about her many times a day since she was PTA president and I was on the PTA board or managing the school email list.

You see, Sandy’s husband is a journalist and she once confided in me that after her husband read something I’d sent in my capacity as email list manager he remarked on my proper use of a hyphen. So anytime I hyphenate a word I think of what Sandy’s husband said and I’d smile. I even remember exactly where she told me this — in the parking lot of the school.

Monday night, when I heard that Sandy had died, I found the journal of her illness on the CaringBridge site. When I awoke at 3:00 am, unable to sleep I opened the journal in my tablet, having bookmarked it before I went to bed. I read about her diagnoses with an aggressive form of liver cancer and how she fought it, first with surgery then chemo-therapy then radioembolization. I read how, despite the pain she walked, at least around the block, most days. I read her post to her readers when she made the decision to stop treatment and enter hospice. I read about her death a few weeks later.

The rest of that night (I never went back to sleep) and the next day and the next sleepless night I kept going over one thing that I’d read in the journal. That she would try to walk at least around the block each day. I know her block and it is a very big block. I was hugely ashamed of myself because I am fine and willingly stay in the house, sometimes for days. I never walk around the block, although one of my promises to myself was to take walks during the day.

Last night, I made a decision. I was going to work on everything that makes me angry at myself — my diet — my lifestyle — my procrastination — my lack of exercise — the list goes on. I’ve become nearly a recluse since — well for a while. Maybe learning about my mom was part of it — but that fact about Sandy walking around the very large block was like a “thanks I needed that” slap in the face.

I finally fell asleep last night — somewhere around 3 am. I dreamed I was in a crowded room of friends of Sandy. Then Sandy entered the room wearing a beautiful blue flowered dress and walked up to me and gave me a hug and I told her about her husband’s hyphen comment and what it meant to me and what her kindness meant to me.

This morning I woke up more awake and happier than I’d waken up in months. I kept saying, “I’m happy! I’m really happy.”

I did take that walk today — just around the block today, and you know what — I felt like Sandy was there with me.

Time

Life

Until last February I never really thought about time so much. Not about my time — my time left on Earth, what my time was worth, my remaining good time. But in February I discovered something that left me feeling like I was on a speeding train heading into a dark tunnel and nothing could slow it down.

In February I learned my mother has Alzheimer’s disease. Thinking back I am pretty sure she has had it for some time. At least two years — that’s when she forgot the dates of my brother and I were born. Not just the years — but the actual dates. Then last year my cousin alerted me that she’d seen my mom in a restaurant and mom didn’t know who she was — and she is actually my mom’s first cousin. When I visited her for her birthday in February I accompanied her to the doctor who told me the news and that she’d been on meds for it for at least 18 months.

While this is not my personal tragedy — I am not the one with the disease — yet. It has made me think about the next twenty years. I am twenty years younger than my mother and I cannot help envisioning what I will be like at 78. I joke with my family about the things I might do (grab a tasty looking girly drink off someone’s table at a restaurant maybe?)

When I mention it to friends they assure me there will be better medication or even possibly a cure for it before too long. I hope so, but I am doubtful.

So I’ve begun a new blog — hosted here on dponline.org called Memories, in which I hope to capture some memories for the future. Things I want my kids to know — things they don’t know they want to know yet, to keep safe for when the time comes that I cannot remember or when I’m gone. Of course that means they will be paying for this web space when I am demented or dead…

 

Blue Apron — a great idea that needs some work

Food

One of my most dreaded weekly tasks is planning and buying food for daily meals. It was worse when the kids were home, but even now, with just the two of us, planning meals is a pain. I usually end up just buying the same things and cooking the same things week after week. Some sort of pasta meal, some sort of Tex-Mex meal, some sort of casserole, etc. If Dean feels like cooking we either have something grilled or something fried.

Then I heard about Blue Apron. I may have seen an ad on Facebook and checked it out or maybe I saw an ad somewhere else, but either way, I really wanted to try the service. If you’re not familiar with Blue Apron — it is a fairly new (about two years old) company out of Brooklyn, NY that sends you all the ingredients and recipes for three unusual meals each week. All you need are salt, pepper and oil. What got me to finally subscribe to Blue Apron was a sponsored blog post on Amalah where the funniest blogger in the world talked about how delicious the meals were and how her kids and foodie husband loved them.

I was so excited about my first shipment that I think I checked the Blue Apron website several times an hour each day before my first blue and white box arrived. Dean was okay with it — but skeptical. Our first three meals were Chicken Hiyashi Chuka, Seared Cod Piperade and Peperonata & Fried Eggs. We liked the first two (Dean loved the cod) but the peperonata and eggs were served over homemade polenta that could have cooked longer.

We continued to get shipments and I continued to be excited about each box and talked it up to friends and family until the week of the Blue Apron typo. I was not terribly excited about the Crispy Fish Sandwiches with cole slaw and homemade tartar sauce, but decided to give it a go anyway. When I saw that it called for 1 tablespoon of salt to be added to the shredded cabbage I knew that was too much, but thought it was to extract the liquid from the cabbage and would be rinsed out. By the time I got to the step where I would have rinsed the salt from the cabbage I guess I forgot and just went with the recipe. As you can imagine the slaw was ruined. I read reviews about the dish and saw several complaining about the salt.

About the same time I’d sent Clare a couple of weeks of Blue Apron for a gift. The first week she was excited but didn’t like the food she made and thought it was too much work and made too much of a mess in her small kitchen. The second week she was sent meat instead of vegetarian recipes. (her fault, she didn’t check the vegetarian option this time) To their credit, Blue Apron sent her a couple free weeks of food because the first package was delivered a day late and because the second contained meat.

Since we were visiting Clare the week after the salty slaw meal we figured we could re-purpose the meat she was sent and maybe make one of her meals at a cabin we were renting on the Olympic Peninsula. The meat looked a little iffy, so we tossed it (Clare was not sure how long it was not refrigerated) but Clare and I made a very good and unusual pizza from one of their recipes that had been delivered.

The day before we left for Maryland, Clare got yet another Blue Apron delivery so we decided to make everything in the box in one meal and invite Clare’s roommate, Bennett, to have a vegetarian feast with us.

The meal began with a Moroccan-Spiced Heirloom Cauliflower Salad, continued with White Chili and ended with a Cauliflower and Kale casserole. Sounds okay, right? It was awful. But awful in a fun way since the four of us suffered through these dishes while sitting in the hallway of Clare’s amazing apartment building.

So back to Blue Apron — I think Blue Apron is a great idea. They have a wonderful help desk staffed with folks who seem genuinely interested in your happiness with the company. I don’t think I am the target audience for the company, however, since I’ve been cooking for decades and can probably come up with recipes as good or better then their best recipes. Their best recipes are very good but they also have a few duds. Of course it is a matter of opinion. What I like is different from what someone else likes (seen much of the time in my reaction to the meals versus what Dean thought about them).

I am not stopping my subscription — in fact I am getting a delivery the week of December 15 when I will be making Gnocchi with Sausage and Savoy Cabbage, Roasted & Stewed Chicken with Potato Latkes & Crème Fraîche and Macadamia-Crusted Cod with Forbidden Rice, Golden Beet & Avocado Salad. Dean won’t be pleased with the chicken, but hopefully he will like the gnocchi and cod.

If you do plan on trying Blue Apron make sure you check for comments on the recipes (at the bottom under “Tips for Home Chefs”) before you start cooking. Had I done that with the coleslaw recipe I would never have added a tablespoon of salt.