Tag Archives: Everyday Life

Saturday in the Park

26 Saturday Sep 2009

Posted by in In the Garden, Life at Home, Mesta Park

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Mesta Park is all ready for guests to descend for a Saturday in the park, even if my Mesta Festa Chili never made it off the page onto the stove.  

It was just too lovely yesterday to spend the day cooking in front of a stove.  There’ll be many other cold and wet days ahead for that.  And what gardener can resist being outside on such a perfect gardening day as yesterday?   Instead of cooking, I opted to play in the dirt and the new garden beds next door are beginning to take shape.  And then I went to Lowes for the umpteenth time this week — a girl and her neighbors can never had too many perennials at half-price — and then I enjoyed a nice visit with the neighbors.  And after all of these pleasures, I went to bed.  And I went to sleep  as soon as my head hit pillow, full of that good tired soreness.  

My neighbor who lives right next door to Cinderella —  the one who invited me to come up with a list of garden plants for his new front garden landscape —  came over while I was working.  He was checking in for plant recommendations; and with only a small amount of embarassament, I showed him my choices with actual plant specimens.  Yep.  I confess that I bought plants for this nice man too without even being commissioned to do so.  Balloon flowers and Homestead Verbena and Black Blue Salvia and Russian Sage — all blues and purples and it’s going to be lovely in front of his orange shaded brick home.  And thankfully, my neighbor was as pleased as punch with my plant selections.  And had he not been, I would have planted these purplish blue flowers either at Cinderella or given them to Sis.  I can always count on Christi  — who I’ve baptised St. Francis of Rock Creek — to adopt any stray, whether it be plant or animal. 

Today promises to be just as lovely as yesterday.  And again, I’m taking a day off from the kitchen stove.  Lunch will be at Mesta Festa where I’m hoping to grab one or two Big Truck Tacos.  And then tonight we’ll head to Norman for this month’s installment of our family’s moveable feast.  It’s Amy’s turn to host and she is sacrificing her Saturday to the kitchen stove out of love for Bryan’s family — and my husband and I, as I suspect all the rest of our tribe (as all have sent in their positive RSVPs), are looking forward to tonight’s feast and games.   It’s the best of both worlds — home cooking in someone else’s home  — with a slice of Amy’s home-made carrot cake to tip the scales in Amy’s favor.    

From Festa to feast, and all the errands in between, today is shaping up to be full of good things.  Let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Ode to Fall

24 Thursday Sep 2009

Posted by in In the Garden, Life at Home, The Great Outdoors

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Just beyond my open window, fall is granting me another beautiful day for gardening pleasures.  The day sparkles on the shiny Magnolia leaves and the air is crisp and thin.  The humidity of last week is gone, and the rain has left behind its gift of softer, easier-to-dig dirt.  I love fall.

The morning  is beckoning me outside to play, just as it has our little Scottish Terrier.  Unfortunately, Cosmo enjoys the garden as much as me.  Even now, while I sit here and write, Cosmo is likely kicking up her heels for a bit of uncommisoned garden work.   No doubt about it — for this is no mere dishing of dirt  —  terriers are scary garden terrorists.  Whenever I’m not looking, Cosmo excavates some precious plant, then often decides to trim the root ball for a good chew.  When she comes inside with roots hanging out of her teeth, my husband and I know its time for damage control.   Usually, the uprooted victims survive as we are on constant lookout for plants sitting on the driveway. 

Of course, our little terrier is only living up to her name.  The word terrier derives from the Latin word terra which means  “earth”; a terrier dog equals earth dog equals garden mass destruction.  So in Cosmo’s defense, terriers were bred to pursue their quarry (especially badgers) all the way into their prey’s burrow.  I guess she’s just practicising on my plants until a stray badger happens along. 

Today I’ll be thinning the garden as well, especially all that sweet potato vine that has aggressively taken over.    What was I thinking when I invited these space hogs into my tiny cottage garden?  Next year I’ll know better.  I will not plant sweet potato vine.  And as I write these words, it reminds me of past writing of  “I will not’s…” on the school blackboard.  In many ways, the garden is a school as its teaches many lessons  — especially in those hardest-to-learn virtues  — in patience and humility.

I’ve had no need for either virtue at the fall garden close-out sales however.  I’m enjoying the best fun shopping and then buying perennials at Lowes.  Even Knock-Out Roses ($10 each!) and other shrubs are now half-price. Everything is reduced but trees and fall flowers.  What gardener can resist such a bargain?  I bought mostly for the ugly step-sister duplex next door — and today, I plan to begin excavating grass for the two new flower beds I’m installing over there.  I’m so excited about this front yard makeover and all the creative play that awaits me. 

I love all the gardening and fresh air and the good tired soreness that comes from working and playing hard outside all day.  I love fall.

The Comeback Kid

23 Wednesday Sep 2009

Posted by in Life at Home

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Oh how I was tempted to add a question mark to the end of that title hovering above!  Sometimes a question mark can become a handy hedge against false assumptions or even tempting the fates of  good fortune; it’s sort of a gramatical way for me to knock on wood.  

Can Dad really be the comeback kid?  Amazingly, the last two Tuesdays offer a positive report.  Last week we witnessed a spark of good news when we found Dad had regained the five pounds lost in his most recent health scare.  And for the first time since coming out of the hospital eight weeks ago, Dad chose to stay in his recliner at the end of our visit rather than asking us — with a point of his finger — to be tucked into bed at 5 pm in the afternoon.  Yes.  Dad is coming closer to Dad’s old diminished self.  And as I shake my head to clear the fog, I have only to go back to the series of posts I’ve written on Daddy to see that it was only August when I wondered if it was ready to bring in Hospice. 

So now I find myself wondering whether Dad’s comeback has anything to do with Jon’s good idea to get Dad an IPOD Shuffle two weeks ago.   Dad has always been a lover of music.  And Dad’s new IPOD allows him to listen to seventy of his favorite tunes — mostly vintage Frank Sinatra — any old time he wants to.  And from the reports we received from nursing home personnel, it appears Dad wants to quite frequently, because Dad’s ears have grown sore from plugging in to get his daily dose of Frank.  

The most amazing proof of Dad’s recovery came last Sunday when my sister Christi was cornered by Nurse Patty’s question:  “Did you or other family members bring in food for your father to eat?”  Dad has been limited to receiving food by feeding tube —  in order to minimize the risk of aspiration — since returning from the hospital.  And as far as we knew, Dad had no interest  in  eating.  But after Christi assured Pattty that we had not, Patty reported catching Daddy eating some applesauce, which helped remind Christi of my applesauce purchases of  late June.  By my count, twelve servings were left two weeks ago.  I ran across them when searching for Dad’s lost dentures; and rather them packing the containers up, I opted to leave them in the hope that Dad would one day enjoy the taste of food again.  Apparently, that day arrived without anyone’s knowledge.  Because the drawer that held 12 half-cup individual servings is now mysteriously empty.    

But wait.  There’s more.  The worst of Dad’s food-by-mouth crimes came when nursing home personnel caught Daddy with his hand in the dining hall popcorn machine, scooping up a handful of freshly popped corn.  Not only did Dad break nursing home law to serve himself, but Dad has been unable to eat solids without choking since late May; and it will be at least a few more weeks until Dad’s lost dentures are replaced so that Dad will have the upper teeth he needs to chew solids.  What was Dad thinking?  With Dad’s inability to talk, we’ll never know for sure.  But this I know:  When we asked Dad about the popcorn incident yesterday, Dad just sheepishly grinned.  It seems Dad is endearingly proud of himself.   

And we’re proud of Daddy too.  Sometimes one just has to take life into their own hands.  And Christi, Jon and I all regard Dad’s sneeking and thieving of food as life itself.  So with Dad finally showing us his caught red-handed hand — that he can survive food consumption by mouth — I spoke with rehab yesteray about opportunities for Dad to safely consume food while working on his swallowing exercises. 

That life can be both fragile and strong at the same time is one of life’s mysterious truths.  Which Daddy will we find next Tuesday?  Or even today?  Either way, Daddy’s keeps us dancing as we all shuffle to meet Dad’s changing needs.  And I ask — what better music to dance by than that  of ‘ol blue eyes himself?  And what better song than “That’s Life” to summarize Dad’s year so far?  Join me on the dance floor as we allow Frank to take us out…will you?  Oh, look.  The spotlight is on Dad.