My mom had a severe stroke the end of October. This was just over a month after spending two full days at the Aitkin Rendevous, as noted in my last blog. The last month has been spent wondering if she would recover and recover to what. I go to the nursing home most mornings before work and each evening. In the morning I just say good morning and maybe help her pick out her clothes for the day. At night, we chat about the day as I rub her feet with Badger Sleep Balm and lavender cream. I also have been administering Bach Flower remedies to her regularly, but now the nurses have removed those from the room, so I bring them in each time I come and continue to administer the remedies. She is continuing to improve, swallowing her pureed food better so that she is getting most of her calorie intake that way. I almost slipped and said "nutrition" which is what got me sitting writing this blog. As with our children in school, the food given our infirm seniors or others living now in care centers seems completely void of nutrition. The other evening when I came in to Mom's room, there were two bowls of unrecognizable pureed food on her nightstand. "Didn't you eat yet?" Yes she had, that was the evening snack. When the nurse came in I asked her what it was, as I said "unrecognizable". Pureed bologna sandwich. Really?! I mentioned she can't have bread. She assured me it had no bread, that means it was pureed bologna! Really??!!! You are feeding my mother, that can't move well and is fighting to stay in this world and get back home pureed bologna?! I didn't say that, it would have done no good. Luckily Mom has the where-with-all to know what is going on around her. She said it isn't worth the work to puree and she refused to eat it. Yay Mom! The next night the nurse came around offering the "Fireside Snack" Really? Fireside? This time is was mini corn-dogs. Really??!!! I just told the nurse no and there is some applesauce in the cooler for her. So she brought in one of the single serving organic applesauce cups I purchased for her and she ate happily. So today I am planning foods I can take in for her for them to feed or food I can bring in myself.
Here is what I have so far...Turkey Noodle soup made with organic turkey and broth, organic homegrown carrots, celery, onions. Kale, homegrown if I still have some in the freezer, and organic noodles. Chili, without the beans for obvious reasons and not too much chili powder since spicy foods are making her cough, made with local grass fed beef, homegrown organic tomatoes and the same carrots, celery and onion. Apple cake made with organic apples and whole wheat flour. And Chocolate pudding...she loves chocolate pudding and I can't find an organic single serving cup one, so I will make it myself with my organic milk, eggs, sugar, cocoa and butter. I do have to use the little Gladware cups so it can be stored in the cooler at the nursing home, but I figure outgassing of plastic packaging is the least of Mom's worries at the moment. Plus I am going to make smoothies with kefir or yogurt, protein powder, frozen fruit with flax oil and spirulina added for nutrition. These I will bring in for her evening "Fireside Snacks". As long as Medicare is paying the bill and she remains in the hands of government mandated "Nutrition" I will be making her food as I can.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
My Grandmother would be proud
I have always felt I was born at least 100 years too late. So when I was asked if I would participate in this years Festival of Adventures/Rendevous in Aitkin, I said sure. I love history, dressing in costume and being connected to my past. My grandmother, Julia Walstad Marker, grew up on the prairie in Nebraska in a dugout and then a sod house. To think I am only one generation removed from a sod house just blows my mind. My 93 years young mother was excited about the Rendevous as well and immediately volunteered to come and be a part. She planned on promoting the book "Farm Girl" that my sister, Karen Jones Gowen, wrote from stories Mother told her of growing up on the Nebraska praire. Mom even had a costume so she would look the part of a 1800's pioneer woman.
The list of items needed to set up my General Store quickly grew to a memo pad that I kept with me at all times so I could write down each thought as it came to me. One night I decided I needed a counter which I could stand behind and sell penny candies, gingerale and Gunpowder Green tea. Besides, I have been standing behing a counter for 25 years, it's just natural. I would build it myself...but as time grew near, I still didn't have a clear idea in my head as to how to do it. I am pretty handy with a hammer and saw, but it just wasn't coming to me. I had located scrap material and purchased a couple of new boards, so I had the makings of a counter, but still no picture in my head. I planned to take the materials to David's to have him help me build it, then bring it back to Aitkin in his pickup (the topic of a girl needing a truck is my next blog). Finally at around 12:30 AM on Saturday of Labor Day Weekend, it came to me. I knew how to do it. The next morning I got busy and by the end of the day I had a sturdy, rustic bar made from scrap 2x4's and cedar closet paneling. It just needed a top. As I was working that day, I thought first of my daugher Brekke and how dissappointed in me she would have been had I needed a man to help me build my counter. Even though as a young girl when she wanted to raise sheep in an old dog pen, she said, "Couldn't we just hire a man to do it?" But when it came to building things, she knew I could do whatever was necessary. Then I remembered the story about my grandmother in "Farm Girl". She had wanted the front porch of the farmhouse screened in and asked my grandfather to do that. He said he didn't have time and it would take too long....when he left to do other chores, my grandmother figured out what she needed and then went to town for materials. She came home, got to work, and by the time my grandfather came home, she had it all done and suggested he have his lemonade out on the porch. There are others like that one that have given me strength and courage to do the task in front of me on my own.
As I said, it still needed a top. I had planned to us the top from a piece of furniture I rescued from the trash on the day of my father's funeral years before. But after finishing the counter, the old top was just too warped to be usable. I went to the lumber yard just up the street to purchase a new board for the top. I paid the man and took the slip out into the yard to get my board. The yard man started going through the stack to find me a good piece. I told him it was for a rustic counter I was building and this would be fine. "Are you sure?" I took the board held it out in front of me and looked down the edge to see if it was straight, then turned it and looked down the flat side. "Yes, this will be fine." He looked at me in amazement and told me that in his 26 years of working in a lumber yard, I was the first woman to ever look down a board to see if it was straight. I laughed, told him I knew my way around a lumber yard and thanked him for telling me so. I then lifted the 8' board onto my shoulder and walked back down the street to my garage. Beaming the whole way, knowing my grandmother was looking down and smiling as well.
I spent the two days of the Festival, behind that counter, stirring the pot of soup cooking on my grandmother's laundry stove, proud of what I had done, but more proud of my heritage of a strong, capable woman whose stories continue to give strength and meaning to my life.
The list of items needed to set up my General Store quickly grew to a memo pad that I kept with me at all times so I could write down each thought as it came to me. One night I decided I needed a counter which I could stand behind and sell penny candies, gingerale and Gunpowder Green tea. Besides, I have been standing behing a counter for 25 years, it's just natural. I would build it myself...but as time grew near, I still didn't have a clear idea in my head as to how to do it. I am pretty handy with a hammer and saw, but it just wasn't coming to me. I had located scrap material and purchased a couple of new boards, so I had the makings of a counter, but still no picture in my head. I planned to take the materials to David's to have him help me build it, then bring it back to Aitkin in his pickup (the topic of a girl needing a truck is my next blog). Finally at around 12:30 AM on Saturday of Labor Day Weekend, it came to me. I knew how to do it. The next morning I got busy and by the end of the day I had a sturdy, rustic bar made from scrap 2x4's and cedar closet paneling. It just needed a top. As I was working that day, I thought first of my daugher Brekke and how dissappointed in me she would have been had I needed a man to help me build my counter. Even though as a young girl when she wanted to raise sheep in an old dog pen, she said, "Couldn't we just hire a man to do it?" But when it came to building things, she knew I could do whatever was necessary. Then I remembered the story about my grandmother in "Farm Girl". She had wanted the front porch of the farmhouse screened in and asked my grandfather to do that. He said he didn't have time and it would take too long....when he left to do other chores, my grandmother figured out what she needed and then went to town for materials. She came home, got to work, and by the time my grandfather came home, she had it all done and suggested he have his lemonade out on the porch. There are others like that one that have given me strength and courage to do the task in front of me on my own.
As I said, it still needed a top. I had planned to us the top from a piece of furniture I rescued from the trash on the day of my father's funeral years before. But after finishing the counter, the old top was just too warped to be usable. I went to the lumber yard just up the street to purchase a new board for the top. I paid the man and took the slip out into the yard to get my board. The yard man started going through the stack to find me a good piece. I told him it was for a rustic counter I was building and this would be fine. "Are you sure?" I took the board held it out in front of me and looked down the edge to see if it was straight, then turned it and looked down the flat side. "Yes, this will be fine." He looked at me in amazement and told me that in his 26 years of working in a lumber yard, I was the first woman to ever look down a board to see if it was straight. I laughed, told him I knew my way around a lumber yard and thanked him for telling me so. I then lifted the 8' board onto my shoulder and walked back down the street to my garage. Beaming the whole way, knowing my grandmother was looking down and smiling as well.
I spent the two days of the Festival, behind that counter, stirring the pot of soup cooking on my grandmother's laundry stove, proud of what I had done, but more proud of my heritage of a strong, capable woman whose stories continue to give strength and meaning to my life.
Friday, September 3, 2010
AG AG AG AG AG!!!!!!! (say it real fast)
One morning as I was trying to get out of bed,thoughts raced through my head...upcoming store promotion...have to do special orders...these people need to be called...don't have enough Scentsy parties scheduled yet....how am I going to pay property taxes...I should get up and exercise....what am I going to have for dinner...I can't keep eating chocolate for lunch...Finally I remembered a phrase my dad used to use...AG AG AG AG AG!!! When he yelled that, you would stop immediately. No matter what you were doing or where you were going, you stopped. You didn't have to wonder what he meant. There was no question. The race track thoughts stopped, but then I started thinking about how I missed being with my dad.
I moved to Minnesota with my family in the fall of 1982. For the next few years, I worked with my dad daily cutting firewood to sell. We would haul trees out of the woods with a tractor or snowmobile, cut into stove lengths, split..first by hand, later with a power splitter, then load into the truck to deliver to customers. It was extremely hard work, but probably the best job I have ever had. We got to know the trees personally. I could tell the species of the tree just by looking at the bark. A valuable skill if you are working during the fall or winter. Daddy would never cut a birch tree. There was something special about them. Oaks were our favorite since the wood burned long and hot. The smell of fresh split oak is close to that of a barnyard, but it became something we looked forward to each season. Maples were more valuable to us for the sap to turn into maple syrup, so we would only cut those that were obviously past their use as a sap tree. Aspen, or Popple as he would call them, were always a part of the mix since then burn fast and hot, great for starting a fire before you add the hard oak. Then there would be the trees that were so far gone we would leave for the birds and squirrels.
I remember one hot day in the woods. We worked all morning then broke for lunch. Mom always had an amazing lunch ready for us at the house. When we got in, she was already feeding Brekke in the highchair before taking her upstairs for her afternoon nap. After lunch we went back into the woods. At the end of the day, deep in the woods, we sat on the tailgate of the pickup and drank really cold, really cheap beer. It was the best tasting beer ever. We didn't have to talk. We didn't even have to mention how good the beer tasted. Caught in the same moment, in the same quiet thought.
I miss the simplicity of those days. I miss the way just being with my dad would help all things make sense.
I moved to Minnesota with my family in the fall of 1982. For the next few years, I worked with my dad daily cutting firewood to sell. We would haul trees out of the woods with a tractor or snowmobile, cut into stove lengths, split..first by hand, later with a power splitter, then load into the truck to deliver to customers. It was extremely hard work, but probably the best job I have ever had. We got to know the trees personally. I could tell the species of the tree just by looking at the bark. A valuable skill if you are working during the fall or winter. Daddy would never cut a birch tree. There was something special about them. Oaks were our favorite since the wood burned long and hot. The smell of fresh split oak is close to that of a barnyard, but it became something we looked forward to each season. Maples were more valuable to us for the sap to turn into maple syrup, so we would only cut those that were obviously past their use as a sap tree. Aspen, or Popple as he would call them, were always a part of the mix since then burn fast and hot, great for starting a fire before you add the hard oak. Then there would be the trees that were so far gone we would leave for the birds and squirrels.
I remember one hot day in the woods. We worked all morning then broke for lunch. Mom always had an amazing lunch ready for us at the house. When we got in, she was already feeding Brekke in the highchair before taking her upstairs for her afternoon nap. After lunch we went back into the woods. At the end of the day, deep in the woods, we sat on the tailgate of the pickup and drank really cold, really cheap beer. It was the best tasting beer ever. We didn't have to talk. We didn't even have to mention how good the beer tasted. Caught in the same moment, in the same quiet thought.
I miss the simplicity of those days. I miss the way just being with my dad would help all things make sense.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Bats and Jumping Spiders
It has been unbelievably hot this summer for Minnesota. I grew up in Illinois where the humidity always matches the temperature and that is how it has been here this year. My small window air conditioner has been going solid for several weeks with fans strategically placed to move the cool air from one room to another. One night I was pushing the vent lever on the air conditioner in and out to see if it made a difference. It didn't. So I turned off the lights to go to bed. As I turned off the last light, I caught something moving out of the corner of my eye. It was a bat! I screamed and plunged under the footstool of my Ikea Poang chair. I lay there curled into a tight ball and looked out periodically to see the bat flying from my living room to the bedroom and back again. I live in a small upstairs apartment with slanted dormer ceilings. In the middle where the ceiling is flat, I can stand flatfooted, reach up and touch the ceiling. So when there is a bat flying madly around the room, it is pretty much at face level. So I stayed under the footstool wondering if I would be able to spend the night there. What man could I call? David lives too far away and would be asleep anyway since it was almost 11:30 PM. I seriously considered calling my ex-husband because I knew he would still be awake. Bad idea. I checked the bat once more, saw that he was staying in the bedroom, so I snuck out from under the footstool. Looking frantically for my cell phone, I went quickly to my landing and closed both doors. I was safe. But had no cell phone. I could sleep on my landing easily enough. I peaked around the door looking for both the bat and my cell phone. There lay the phone on the table of my living room. I saw no bat flying, so ran for my phone and back to the landing. Now I at least had my phone. Do I call my ex-husband? .......No. I will call my daughter, Brekke. She lives in LA and would still be awake. When I told her I had a bat flying around in my apartment, she basically laughed at me, told me to go get a broom and not to kill it. But the broom was all the way in the bathroom closet! And it's a really big bat! Would you be less afraid if it were a bird? Well...yes. Mom, you lived in a log house, we had bats all the time! Actually I only remember one being in the house. The rest just made noise above the ceiling logs. And yes, I did catch that one and put it outside safely. But that was a long time ago, and I had my children to protect. After listening to her stories about how she and her roommate would have bats in their apartment and dealt with them safely, I slowly went back into the apartment. I saw no bat. Now what?! I got the broom and a towel. Still no bat. I started looking around and sweeping the broom behind the dresser, the bed, the bedroom curtains. Nothing. Then behind the living room shade above the air conditioner. Out it flew. I shreeked, crouched down and swung the broom and missed. Swung once more and connected. This I found out later is very hard to do. Bat's radar is so sophisticated that it can dodge the broom faster than you can swing. Not me. It lay on the floor stunned. I tossed the towel over him, which really made him mad. Donned in my rubber gloves, I gathered up the towel and flung it out the front door. As it landed on the grass, I saw the bat fly off, so he was not injured. Yay. I went back in to decipher where he came in. I decided he got in the air conditioner when I was fiddling with the vent lever. They can flatten down and get through an area the size of a pencil. Great. I closed the vent, taped every place I thought there was a space. I then called Brekke to sing my praises. I hate bats. I know they are helpful, but not in my house. Like jumping spiders. I hate jumping spiders. Brekke exclaimed, "Right! At least it wasn't a jumping spider!!" My guess is she wouldn't have laughed at me if I called her to tell her I had a jumping spider in my apartment.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
My beginning.....
I am relatively new to social media. The whole concept I find to be an interesting way of making the world smaller. Several seminars have taught me that it is becoming the way people find out about you and your business. After attending one especially good seminar, I started back at Twitter and Linked In. I found myself one evening forming all my thoughts into short tweets and posts. "Good grief! I should get a pet!", I thought to myself. At least I could be chatting in whole sentences with something that I thought understood what I was saying. Then the idea of blogging came to me. Yes! I could just right down the ramblings and interesting thoughts and send them out. At that point the title came to me, "How is it I'm still single?" It made me laugh. I texted my daughter and told her my idea. "But your not single" was her response. Yes, I am. Mostly. I replied. I am single again after my third divorce. I am in a relationship, but with no desire to ever get married again unless it benefits me financially with money or property or both. So I am happily single, but believe that my interests, thoughts, ideas and expertise are of value not only to me, but hopefully others as well. The next day I bought a laptop and here I am. Thanks for listening.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)