The numbers are scary, for sure, and no telling what they would be if we hadn’t started social distancing when we did. The thing is, the virus is new, but so is looking at numbers. We don’t get daily reports of how many people were in car accidents today and how many of them died. Those would be scary numbers. Cancer, obesity, heart disease, murder, work accidents, wars, abortions, all happen every day and we simply don’t know the numbers, so we don’t stop driving and eating junk.
With C-19 we have numbers. We have instructions. We have constant information. If the numbers were silent, we wouldn’t take precautions. Numbers are what move us from complacency to action.
What if we start getting numbers like this for other ways to die? Would we start taking precautions? Would we stop for people in crosswalks? Would we make a pot of soup instead of driving for a Big Mac? I wonder, really, of all the people alive this morning, how many will die today from any cause? I’m sure it would be terrifying if we knew. But we don’t.
There has to be a place where we have enough knowledge of the danger to take precautions, but not so much that we live in constant fear. When this is over, it will be over because the information stopped, not because the virus was eradicated. We will have vaccines and cures, and we will have anti-Vaxers, like we do for the other scary diseases.
We are going to be okay.
If you are afraid, maybe it’s not just the scary numbers, or the scary disease with horrible symptoms, but you just don’t know for sure what happens when you die. What if God is right, and Jesus is the only way? This might be a good time to face that fear, and find out. It might be hard to go to church, but YouTube is full of church services these days. Most will give you contact information if you want to talk about it. Ask that Christian you know. Ask me. Let’s get this settled.
I recently received a gift. It was beautifully packaged and gratefully given. I could tell it was something very valuable before I opened it.
I was a little surprised to see that it was quite simple. A pretty necklace. I love the color. Nothing flashy. On closer inspection I saw it had a name. Tiffany’s. I’ve heard that name, but I’m not sure what it means.
Today I was wearing the necklace and needed to take it off for a bit. The person helping me offered to do it. I mentioned it was new and the clasp was a little difficult for me. Once it was off, her tone of voice went from light chatter to awestruck “Oh, it’s from Tiffany’s.” Apparently the name means more than I realized.
I appreciate this little necklace because it is a gift, and a color I like, and because of the giver. I’ve heard of its name, but I clearly don’t understand what it means.
At the end of next week it will be the Christmas season. I think this little necklace has caused me to think about names at just the right time. A lot of people will hear the name “Jesus” next month. They might have a sense of its value, and surely they have heard it before. It just seems a bit small and simple to them. A baby named Jesus.
I’ve known about Jesus my whole life. As an adult, I have come to understand that his name has a great deal of meaning. It means everything.
So when I am faced with the realization that I don’t understand the meaning of “Tiffany’s,” I think I start to understand what it might be like for someone who doesn’t understand the meaning of “Jesus.” It must feel strange to realize that people around you get it, and you don’t. I never thought of it that way before.
Christmas isn’t just gifts from Santa and a baby in a manger. It is God becoming man. It’s a really big deal. It doesn’t come in a pretty box with a big white bow, but it is a gift. A really valuable gift.
I’m going to google something after I post this. I would like to know more about the meaning of the name on my gift. I hope that if the name “Jesus” is something of a mystery to you, that you will be even more curious about that.
“There is power in the name of Jesus.”
“Jesus is the reason for the season.”
“At the name of Jesus, every knee will bow…”
“Jesus saves.”
“Jesus loves you.”
“She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”
It isn’t just a name. It means something. Something very costly. It is a gift that can be yours.
A funny thing about losing 43 pounds is that people start to notice. I was trying to be quiet about it, for the most part, because I know it’s really boring or annoying when other people talk about it. So if you don’t want to hear about it, I would be pleased if you would just close this page and move along. Bye!
OK. I take it you are at least slightly interested if you’re still here. I’ve recently been asked several times how I did it. Well, it’s not done yet, but I take the past tense as a compliment. I’m about halfway there. I’ve been using the Noom app. It’s really different from anything else I’ve tried, and I’ve done most of the diets out there. I’ve always gained the weight I’ve lost back, even from the “I’m diabetic and I’m going to die if I don’t lose weight” diet.
What’s different? Psychology!
So when I’m asked what Noom is, people really want to know what you have to give up. Because that’s what diets are. Giving up everything you love and only eating what you hate, until you can’t take it anymore. I really don’t feel like I’m on a diet. At all. I’m just learning how to take care of myself better and understand what food is. So it’s hard to answer the real question since it’s not about depriving myself of anything.
I’m not here to advertise for Noom. I can give you a referral code so you can get 20% off. I do recommend it. Yes, it costs money. I cut my cable so I could afford it. If you’ve ever gained the weight you lost back, it’s probably for you. If you can lose weight and keep it off, then you don’t need it. That’s all I’m going to say about that. I’m really here to share some of the things I’ve learned, and I have to give Noom credit first.
My life has pretty much been a series of diets. I was either losing weight or gaining it back. I needed to have a lot of clothing on hand to cover the range of sizes I needed. It had become clear to me that I knew how to lose weight when I really wanted to, but I didn’t know how to keep it off. So why bother? Then along came Diabetes in June of 2016. Unwelcome new roommate who threatened to chop off half my left foot. Scary, but less threatening over time. After losing 40 pounds by pure fear, I started feeling less threatened and the weight came creeping back.
In January of this year, my a1c was 7.3. Anything over 7 is bad, for those who don’t know about it. 5.5 is ideal. I started at 9.6 and the fear diet got me to 6.6 fairly quickly, where it stayed, despite being less afraid, until then. My doctor gave me two options. She could double my medication, or she would give me four months to lower that number to below 7 on my own. She reminded me that I had done it before. You know, I really wanted to just give in and double the meds. I knew it was a downward spiral, but it would be so much easier. For some reason, I said I would do the four months, though. Ugh.
In February, I was aware I only had three months left, and I had gained weight, so I figured the a1c number had gone up as well. I was really feeling stressed because I thought four months wasn’t enough time, and now I’d lost a fourth of it. So I started doing what I know how to do. Cut out the foods I like, eat the ones I don’t. By the end of April I had lost 12 pounds, but I was counting the days until I could get my lab work done and then go back to normal.
I had seen a lot of Facebook ads for Noom and they said it had a two week free trial. I thought I’d do the free trial, which would end, coincidentally, on the day of my appointment with the doctor. Good plan! I’d make it until then by switching gears temporarily.
Of course, the free trial turned out to be an eye-opener. I had been doing it all wrong. I lost three more pounds. My a1c was 7.0, and when I confessed to only trying for three months, she felt like that was good enough, but wanted to see me again in four months to make sure I got below it.
Obviously, I had by then become quite attached to Noom, so I called the cable company to get rid of TV and slow my internet way down. It seemed my priorities had started to shift in those two weeks, so it wasn’t a hard sacrifice.
That was a long intro!
One of my favorite new phrases is “Oh well.” With diets, when you mess up, the self talk is more like, “That’s it. I knew I couldn’t do it. I have no self control. Might as well finish the bag of cookies.” Now I say, “Oh well.” It’s crazy how powerful the difference is.
Another thing I’ve learned to say is, “It’s just a cookie.” Now you can replace “cookie” with whatever kryptonite you want, but that’s mine. The self talk here used to be, “Oh, cookies! I love cookies! I hate this diet. I know cookies make me fat. Maybe I should take the oatmeal one, because it has fiber. (Eats oatmeal cookie). I’ll bet the chocolate chip would have been better. I should have just eaten a chocolate chip cookie. Or a snickerdoodle. (Eats one or more of each.) Cookies are not on my diet. I really shouldn’t be eating them. I’m going to have one more and it’s going to be my LAST cookie EVER. I don’t know why I can’t stick to a diet around cookies. I can’t seem to just eat one. They are going to kill me. Yeah, I need to stop eating them after this. This (cookie #10) is the very last one. Cookies are so bad.”
So, now I say, “It’s just a cookie.” Turns out they aren’t the all-powerful menaces I had made them out to be. I can choose the one that looks the most tasty and revel in the deliciousness of each bite. It doesn’t have to be the last cookie I’ll ever eat. It doesn’t need that kind of pressure. It’s far more enjoyable to just eat and enjoy the cookie because it’s just a cookie. If I decide to have another, it’s followed by “Oh well.”
I know it might sound like this kind of thinking would lead to gaining weight, but oddly, it doesn’t. It takes all the power away from food, sweets in particular. I’ve pretty much lost the fear of gaining the weight back. I really like my new relationship with food.
I am counting calories. I know, who doesn’t absolutely hate that? The app makes it fairly easy, and there are measurements like “handful” and “spoonful” for those times when you just don’t know. I’ve been known to type in “potluck” when there are just too many ingredients to identify. What I’ve learned, though, is I burn about 100 calories an hour. So if I eat a 250 calorie breakfast at 7:30, I will probably start feeling a little hungry at 10:00. So I might need a 200 calorie snack to make it to lunch. It’s a fairly simple concept. I only need to eat enough to make it to the next meal. There will be more food. I can even predict when I’ll get hungry if I know the calorie count of what I ate. Makes it easy to plan.
Hunger is another thing. It turns out to be only one reason that we eat. It’s the only real reason to eat, but it’s not the main one until we change how we think.
Sometimes we turn to food for emotional reasons that have nothing to do with hunger and we tend to continue to eat well beyond the point of being full. Sometimes we eat because of the clock. It’s noon, so it’s time to eat, hungry or not. We especially like to eat because others are eating. Or maybe because food is available (donuts in the break room). Most of the time it has nothing to do with being in physical need of nutrition.
You know what’s crazy? We should eat when we are actually hungry! A growling stomach doesn’t lead to weight loss. Who knew? When our bodies signal that food is needed, we should feed it. When our body discovers that hunger signals are met with food, the idea of storing fat starts to be unimportant. That’s why it’s nice to know the calorie count, so hunger and mealtime can coincide.
It’s not like we have to restrict calories to some arbitrary number. We just need to eat what our body needs until the next meal or snack. Having a 100/cph metabolism makes for easy math. It’s also easier if the food has high fiber and water content. A spoonful of peanut butter is about 150 calories. So is a cupcake. Or four cups of broccoli. Peanut butter and cupcakes will leave you feeling empty long before their fuel is burned up. There is a difference between feeling empty and being hungry. Who knew? So if you mostly eat foods that will take longer to digest, you don’t have to worry about feeling hungry before you are hungry.
Wait, did I say cupcake in the same sentence as broccoli? I did. It’s just a cupcake. It’s not a great source of nutrients, but you can eat it if you want. You can have a cupcake, a spoonful of peanut butter, and a banana and there’s a 400-calorie lunch. It’s going to be a miserable day, though. Once you start seeing foods as fuel, and not all-powerful life-destroying monsters, you start to realize lunch is better with nutrition, fiber, and water. It’s nice to have some volume to it. That’s all. Food with highly concentrated calories is best in small amounts, occasionally. Your body will thank you. It’s a really nice feeling when your body is happy.
There are other forms of hunger besides a growling stomach. Sometimes your mouth wants something specific, like crunchy, or cold and creamy. This is a real thing! The best thing to do is take care of that. If you want crunchy, a half gallon of vanilla ice cream will leave you still hungry. Put some Oreos on it! Seriously. It’s also possible that eating carrots instead would do the trick, but a normal serving of ice cream with cookies for crunch will be more satisfying than a half gallon of it plain.
I have already covered emotional hunger and the sight and smell of food making us think we are hungry. Sometimes there is something other than food that we need. It doesn’t hurt to stop and ask yourself if you need food, what kind of food, or if you are simply using food to avoid an emotion or entertain your tastebuds. It’s food. It’s not the answer to all your problems. It might be the cause of some of them. It’s just a cookie. It can’t fix a broken heart.
January 2019
September 2019
You may be wondering if this is what Noom teaches. Sort of, but this is more how I apply it to my life. It seems people are curious how I’ve lost so much weight without appearing to be dieting, so I thought I’d share some key insights. I’m sure I could go on, but I’m pretty shocked that you are still here!
I’ll be going back to my doctor in a couple of weeks, and I’m not even nervous about it. I will probably have lost 30 pounds since my last appointment, so that has to be good for my a1c. No panic-dieting, just doing my thing.
Here is the code, if you want it. Noom has helped me get healthier, I think it could help you too! Use my special link for 20% off when you sign up here: https://friends.noom.com/YUw0WTdMMURJOmNm
That’s all. If there appears to be a good amount of interest in the comments, I may write on this subject again someday, but I’m aware of how boring this topic is! I’m sure your eyes have glazed over by now.
Huh? What? Did you just say something about glazed donuts? I’m awake!
Update: When I went to the doctor I had lost 36 more pounds and my a1c was 6.0! My total weight lost is now 52 pounds.
Eric moved out today. While I was at work. I knew it was happening, but it wasn’t quite real. I had been home for a little while, just settling into the weekend. As I was washing my hands in the bathroom, I noticed it looked a little cleaner than usual. Not clean, but empty. All of Eric’s things were gone from the counter.
Mind you, I raised him as a divorced mom with a 50/50 custody arrangement. I have watched him leave hundreds of times. Or come home to find him gone. I have been well trained for this day. But there was always a toothbrush.
Today is different. He won’t be back as my child. He will be back as a visitor. Someone who lives somewhere else. A man.
I went to the kitchen to make a sandwich. I buy him all the best sandwich ingredients. Today I would make one for me. Maybe not the way he likes it, my way. I can. I am eating it as I write, and it is good.
I remembered that he and his buddy, Dave, had changed the bed frame in his room for me, and decided to go and see how it looked. It looked great. All of his stuff was gone. Granted, most of it is in the fourth bedroom, which is now his storage room. So much stuff. He has to stay at Dave’s house because he can’t find the bed. This room only has furniture now.
The plan was for him to move into that bedroom because I will be hosting international students this year and the first one is arriving on Monday. He has been reluctant to give up his room, though he did it voluntarily. It only makes sense for him to have the smallest room while he is away at college. He totally gets it. He just put it off until the last weekend.
As I was contemplating how I would turn this space into a girl’s room in the next 48 hours, I realized that my fabulous office chair was there in front of me. The one I splurged on years ago when it was on sale. The one Eric sort of gradually stole from me, despite how much I loved it. “Well, I get it back when you go off to college,” I had finally said. Today. I got my chair back. It seems to be more molded to his shape than mine now.
So today is the day. He will be back tomorrow. He is only sleeping at Dave’s for eleven nights. Then he will go to college.
I will miss him. A lot. Yet we are ready for this. I always wondered how it would be. It’s good. Even though it would have been nice if his school started earlier and my soon-coming students could come later, this little overlap isn’t a reason to not go ahead with our plans. He has a very bright future and is eager to begin his training. I would not hold him back for anything. We have phones. We can text. We can call. We can even send each other money. Though I suspect that will only work one way.
In my mind, I hear the words, “Well done.” I hope so. I have held the greatest secret these past 20 years. The world will soon know the man who I have had a hand in raising. Such a privilege. I can only defer to the grace of God. He not only gave me a wonderful human being, he was there along the way through all of the years. I sure did make mistakes. Plenty of them. Yet this wise, intelligent, responsible, funny, well-groomed, and talented man has emerged. He isn’t perfect. There are flaws. He will figure it out. I have so much confidence in him.
So this is my empty nest. It will fill again on Monday, but for now, it’s just me. I have survived.
It’s that time of year again. Warmer weather. I was in my back yard pulling weeds and once again got to hear my neighbor interact with her kids. As I quietly pulled my weeds, I began to wonder if she had any idea what she sounded like. Here are some observations, enhanced by what I remember from last year, and it doesn’t appear much has changed.
Tone of Voice
My neighbor has a special tone of voice that she uses with her kids. It is frustrated and bordering on whiny. I know she has another voice because I have heard her use it after the phone rings, or while hanging out with friends on Saturday nights. Either her kids are constantly annoying, or she is in the habit of speaking to them as if they are.
Choice of Words
Nearly everything she says to her children is a command. “Be quiet.” “Eat your lunch.” “We need to go.” “Put your shoes on.” I’m not saying she shouldn’t say these things, but I don’t hear her simply talk to them, or respond to them, or ask a question not related to the behavior she is seeking or correcting.
Preference
Based on the their names, which I won’t use, even though I really like them, she has a boy and a girl, and maybe a pumpkin. The pumpkin occasionally delights her, though she can switch back to the annoyed voice in no time at all to speak to another child.
I don’t know how old the children are. I don’t hear their voices. I am pretty sure they aren’t teenagers yet. Probably preschool-ish. I wonder how she will communicate with them when she needs to listen.
It probably isn’t fair that I keep quiet and then go inside and blog about her. She sounds fairly young and lives in an apartment and I don’t hear a daddy’s voice on Saturdays. The kids are fed and clothed and taken places. I just wish there were pleasant interactions and a little more enjoyment of parenting.
I got caught up in a video about NFC technology because it made me think about Revelation 13:16-17, which says, “It also forced all people, great and small, rich and poor, free and slave, to receive a mark on their right hands or on their forehead, so that they could not buy or sell unless they had the mark, which is the name of the beast or the number of its name.” I couldn’t look away.
It’s a long video, and to save you watching it to the end, (spoiler alert) it is selling a year subscription to a monthly newsletter for only $39.00. However, along the way, it looks a lot like a fulfillment of this prophecy. I am pretty sure he never read the Book of Revelation. I don’t think a person could read it and then see this technology and not put the two together. Especially someone as smart as he is.
I didn’t verify anything this video says, but I have noticed a lot of new devices that take credit cards everywhere. I have heard of Apple Pay. How long before this chip becomes so essential that it is implanted under the skin to make sure we don’t lose it, or leave it in the car? I love technology and its advances, but this is really making me think.
On a side note, not so long ago, I was wondering if the tattoo craze was a way of getting people, even Christians, to be more open to taking “marks” on their skin. It was just a passing thought, but people are going to have to go somewhere to get their chip implanted, why not their usual tattoo place? Or their vet. I just realized veterinarians have already been implanting chips for awhile. So many things that seem unrelated could, in fact, be pieces of the puzzle.
In Revelation 14:9 and following, it becomes quite clear that we should not take this mark. The consequences are severe. I don’t know if owning an iPhone 6 with an NFC chip in it would be considered taking the mark. It says “on” the hand, not “in” the hand. Though the Apple Watch and Google Glasses are pretty close to “on” the hand and “on” the forehead, but they can also be taken “off.” It doesn’t appear that you can change your mind about the mark, so it is probably something more permanent.
If the doctor in the video is right and businesses will be mandated to have the equipment to read NFC chips by October 2015, this will be something we face in our lifetimes.
At what point do we opt out? I was in high school when “A Thief in the Night” and its sequel came out. Their terrifying interpretation of Revelation 13 and 14 was simple enough. When you refuse the mark on your hand or forehead, they hunt you down and chop off your head. (Video here. The scene starts at 1 hour, 10 minutes, if you want to skip to it.) It was scary and futuristic and I preferred not to think about it.
Now it looks like it won’t be frightening or forced on us at all. It will just get more and more inconvenient to buy or sell without an NFC chip. If Revelation 13:17 is right, it will become impossible. The decision won’t come in a dramatic moment when our name is called and we are asked if we will take the mark or die. It will just be the next new technology. Not so different from the one before it. Like the switch to digital TV. One day analog was gone and we didn’t notice.
Revelation 13:18 says, “This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man. That number is 666.” I have no idea how to calculate the number, but I have a feeling that will come with time. The idea of people voluntarily getting the mark was unthinkable in the 70’s, and now it isn’t at all hard to imagine.
I haven’t blogged for awhile. A lot has changed on this site and I don’t know my way around in here anymore. Hopefully I can figure it out again. I have been getting tired of procrastinating, so I thought I’d just write something to get me going again.
Meanwhile, I might mention I finally conquered level 132 on Pyramid Solitaire Saga. It bothers me a bit that I spent so much time on this, and that it really made me happy for a moment to accomplish it. What does this say about my life?
I also cleaned out the refrigerator today. My nose is a bit stuffy, so it seemed like a good way to take advantage of that. Now it is much more obvious that we need to go grocery shopping soon.
We were making good progress on cleaning out the guest room until he got to the paper. Paper will always slow down a good organizing project. Now it seems we are blogging and not making progress anymore.
It seems the only way to end a good procrastination is to procrastinate something else.
I’m not sure what my first memory of Grandma was. A lot of my early memories come from stories I have heard many, many times. Most of them include a mention that Grandpa had dark hair before I came along and I only remember it as silver. There was the time they were babysitting me and I went into convulsions. I sat on the floor heater with a bare bottom and burned a waffle pattern onto myself. (There are no scars to verify this story.) I climbed up into her cupboard and ate a whole bottle of baby aspirin and had to get my stomach pumped. I don’t remember any of these things, just the stories.
Grandma loved horses, and apparently, once she had a granddaughter, she had to get a horse for her to ride. The horse was named Nuisance and I was terrified of riding her. I was so grateful when my cousin Randy came along and he actually enjoyed riding her, and I was free.
I remember her dog Tina and when she had puppies. Those puppies were the cutest things out in the barn in a box with a red blanket and a heating lamp.
The house out on the farm by the river was a huge place to play. There was a tank house. There were cows. We’d sit on upside-down buckets and ride in the back of Grandpa’s pickup.
I remember her kitchen, and my favorite cookies. They were store bought, but I knew just where they were. You opened the first cupboard from the kitchen table, the right side door, and they were on the bottom shelf. She also baked cookies, but I really liked those Taffy cookies. Once in awhile I can find them in the store, and they still take me back to Grandma’s kitchen. There was an old wringer washer on the back porch. Funny the things that stick in my mind.
She always had beautiful pictures on her wall. One of my favorites in on my mantel now. She liked pictures that told a story, and you had to look at it over and over again to see all of the details. When she moved out of her home, it was discovered that she had written my name on the back of the one of the girl holding a cat. I’m glad. I’ve always liked it. I guess she knew that.
She had a younger brother who had twin daughters who were about a year older than me. I remember playing in the back room in the house on the farm with Jeannie and Janet and a huge argument broke out. I was outnumbered, but holding my ground. I knew I was right! When Grandma came in to break it up, I don’t know how she stayed so calm! I was insisting her name was “Grandma” and they BOTH said her name was “Aunt Mary.” That was the day I found out that I didn’t know everything.
She saved everything. I guess I got that gene from her. Except my closets and cupboards are not as meticulously organized. As I’m remembering, I’m realizing I got into her cupboards a lot. I hope she didn’t mind.
When Grandpa and Grandma moved into town, they just lived a few blocks away. It was an easy bike ride. The memories from the house on 17th Street are much stronger.
She paid us ten cents a bucket to pick up walnuts in her back yard. They were really big buckets, too! I couldn’t do more than one. We also got a dime for each A on our report cards.
She was crafty. I remember going over there after school while she was making pin cushions out of large mixing spoons. They were padded, then covered in velvet, lace, ribbons, and beads. I thought they were so beautiful! She had them on the bed in the front bedroom. They looked even more striking against the white satin quilt. She also made Christmas ornaments with those same kinds of decorations on Styrofoam balls. I have three of those. I was over there often before Christmas and helping her make things, like frosted cookies. One year we made Christmas stockings for each of her grandchildren. We still use them. They were made to last! She had a lot of buttons. I loved going through them.
She had a pretty calico cat named Lucy.
I was a nail biter, and she had a really hard time with that. She was always giving me beautiful manicure sets and fancy nail products. I knew it would mean a lot to her if I would take care of my nails, but I was twenty-four before I finally quit. Of course, she was happy to see that I finally had some nails. I still don’t keep them up the way she wanted me to.
She taught me a lot of things. How to make a bed properly. How to dry off after a bath. How to put on a bra. How to tie a belt into a bow behind my back. It was important to her to hand wash undergarments. Some of her lessons I took to heart, others were just too much trouble. She was an absolute perfectionist when it came to her housework and especially the care of clothing. She even ironed her sheets and Grandpa’s handkerchiefs. Her linen closet was a work of art that could have been framed.
She was known for her zwieback. I especially liked when she dried the leftovers. She dipped them in her coffee, which always had milk in it. She liked to tell the story of how she worked hard to learn to make perfect zwieback before she was married. They are little rolls with a flattish bottom and a round ball on top. It’s not always easy to get them through the process of shaping and rising without that ball of dough falling off, but she could do it perfectly. After she was married, though, they kept coming out of the oven with the two parts side-by-side. She was mortified, and it just kept on happening. Finally she caught Grandpa in the act. He liked them with more crust and would go behind her after they were in the oven and flick the tops off. So the ones they ate at home were a little lopsided, but the ones she brought to church suppers were perfect.
Unlike most women of her era, she never made pies. I didn’t figure this out, she told me later on in her life. She always had wonderful desserts, whether cake, sherbet cake (my favorite), or cookies. Never pie. I don’t remember the reason.
Grandma really liked to season food with black pepper. I didn’t care for it, and I’m still not a fan. Food with pepper always makes me think of her. I have an odd fragment of a memory of being in a restaurant and being brought a plate with a beautiful baked potato with a nice blob of sour cream on it. One of my favorite things. She reached over and shook pepper onto it. I was stunned. It was ruined. I ate it anyway. I never told her I didn’t like pepper.
I remember after she had surgery to remove her cataracts. She was so upset to discover that her kitchen counter tile was speckled. She did not like the speckles. It didn’t look clean to her.
One Christmas, when I was in college, I stayed in her front bedroom because the dorms at school were closed. This didn’t go so well. I did a load of laundry and she discovered that I had included a little bit of everything, including undergarments, in a single load. Her machines had never seen such horrors. She gave me quite a lecture on how to sort laundry that day! Unfortunately, her laundry training never took hold. For years I lived in fear that she would stop by while I was folding laundry.
This was a real fear. I was sharing an apartment with roommates a few years later and I came home one day and my roommates nervously told me what had happened while I was gone. Grandma had stopped by. They said she had gone into my room and was going through my closet and my dresser drawers. They didn’t know what to do, so they just waited for her to finish. I never heard about this from Grandma, so it may be safe to assume that I passed inspection. I guess I’ll never know.
When Grandma gave you something, you had to keep it and you had to use it. She checked up! I still have many things that she gave me because of this. There are also many that I have not kept, and it’s finally safe to say so. When I was a college student, moving around a lot, I lost some pictures she gave me that her brother Johnny had painted by number. Forgive me, but I kept them in a dresser drawer. The dresser was borrowed. I’m pretty sure it was returned with the paintings still in it. She would come over and ask about them. Oh my, the quick thinking I had to do! She still doesn’t know I lost them. The life lesson here is if something is truly precious to you, don’t give it to your granddaughter who washes her undies by machine. It just isn’t going to end well!
As she got older, visiting her still meant doing projects of some kind. A jigsaw puzzle, organizing her state quarters, taking her shopping, or getting a hamburger. When she was still able, staying for dinner meant a meal that, besides being liberally sprinkled with pepper, was getting cold by the time you could eat it. This is because she always took time to pray for each of her children and grandchildren before she ate. Quite possibly those from her second marriage as well, when she didn’t have company.
She has been gone from us for awhile. One visit, several years ago, she asked if Eric was my new boyfriend. Other visits, she didn’t seem to know me at all, though there was one where she did. I wish I could remember what we talked about that day.
One time I took her a gift. A little stuffed dog. I wrapped it in tissue. She ignored the puppy and spent the whole visit smoothing and folding the tissue. Her hands were moving in such a characteristic way as she folded it again and again into a perfect little square. It was interesting that with the paper she was herself, and yet she didn’t know who I was. When she ate her lunch, she cleaned her plate. Apparently she had also forgotten that she was always on a diet.
Alzheimer’s is cruel. Even though she died today, it isn’t something that just happened, we lost her quite some time ago.
Grandma, say hello to my baby girl there in heaven for me. Enjoy your new teeth. So many of your loved ones got there before you, and I know it is a wonderful reunion. We will see you again one of these days.
Years ago I was a custodian for about a year. My tasks included cleaning the bathrooms and keeping them stocked once a week. The stalls each had spindles for two rolls of toilet paper.
The thing I learned in this job is first, that people will always use the roll with the most paper on it, and second, that it’s hard to keep it stocked when there are equally partial rolls on dual spindles.
It is such a difficult decision whether to leave them both, hoping there was the equivalent of a full roll, switch one out and toss out a half roll, or go for broke and change them both. I tried leaving the wrapping paper on the full one, only to come back the next week to find two half rolls again. It would be so much easier if one of them was empty and could simply be replaced with a full roll.
I realized that even though it is years later, as a blogger, I can finally do something about this! Maybe this post will go viral, to the joy of custodians worldwide!
Please start making a real effort, when there are two rolls of TP in a public restroom, to always use the smaller one. It goes against nature, believe me, but somewhere there is someone responsible for keeping that stall stocked. While you are thinking of that person, take a moment to ask God to bless him or her. Most likely he or she is in a difficult financial situation.
Even though that was a fairly decent conclusion to this post, it seems I have more to say on the subject.
I could tell which stalls were the most popular by the paper usage. While you are modifying your behavior based on this blog, keep in mind that the stalls at both ends get used the most. Consistently. My theory is that there are people who use the first one they come to, and there are people who go to the last one, thinking it is used less, or for a better sense of privacy. With only two kinds of people, those who read this blog will become a new third kind, the ones who use the center stalls.
For those who are wondering, the title is a play on words, or an illogical nod to Shakespeare, whichever you prefer, and not at all the subject of this post. Always TP.
That was another false ending. One more thing. I hope only one. In a home bathroom, the goal is always to avoid using the last square of paper and therefore not be the one who has to put a new roll in place. It could be the reason why humans are so prone to using the larger roll when there is a choice. As a human, I fall prey to this goal as much as anyone else, but every so often I get filled with a rebellious sort of love and decide to put a new roll on the spindle while the old one still has a few wraps around it. That way those who live with me can avoid that one-square-short experience.
I leave the almost-empty roll on the little shelf right next to the properly installed full roll, but when I return, the full roll has been used and the partial one is still there, in plain sight. Or I will get a new roll out of the cabinet and leave it on the shelf for the next person who will likely be responsible for changing it. You got it. The larger one gets used from the shelf.
I come from a large family, and I am so grateful that at Christmas I don’t have to buy a gift for everyone. The last few years we have been regifting instead. We choose a gift from among our own possessions to take to the gift exchange. I’ve already noticed something in my garage that might be just perfect for someone. Actually, two things. It will be hard to choose which one to take.
The benefits to this plan are many. We save money and hassle by not having to buy gifts. We get to think about all that we have and how we already have more than we need. We share something that is ours, not an impersonal store-bought item. In my case, I can give a nicer gift from my own possessions than I can afford to buy new. This makes me happy.
We open the gifts one at a time and play a game where the next person in line, usually youngest to oldest, can either open a wrapped gift, or steal one that has already been opened. When an opened gift is taken, the person who lost it can choose a wrapped gift or take an opened one. There are some rules for how many times an item can be stolen and such so that we are forced to move on if a gift is especially desirable. As the oldest, going last has the advantage of all but one of the gifts are opened. When the last gift is opened, the person who went first gets a chance to steal, and that is the last round. It’s a fun way to determine who gets what and we are generally pleased with the results. If not, we are ready for next year!
We also have stockings which we fill with treats and/or small gifts for each other.
It really is possible to enjoy a Christmas celebration without expensive gifts that nobody can afford.
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Penluck 