RIP, Archbishop

 Archbishop Desmond Tutu has died at age 90 after a life of fighting apartheid and offering moral leadership to the world. I was incredibly fortunate to meet him once. I was stage managing a large church assembly at which he was the preacher at the opening worship. The processional was designed around the energy of African tradition with dancers holding a golden cloth over the heads of the participants as they walked down the aisle. In the Archbishop's case, he danced down the aisle. His red robes flowing around him as he kept the rhythms of the music. Bless their very America ministerial hearts, the preachers in the line behind him tried their best and were obviously so up tight about moving with that energy in church. My dancer's heart could but grin. 

In the huge convention center auditorium, my crew and I were stationed on the floor stage left of the raised platform. Even though we were in plain sight, we were also invisible as lights and worship participants kept congregational attention focused on the stage. As we moved into the celebration of the Eucharist, the worship leader invited us to pass the Peace to each other. I looked up to see the Archbishop leaning down to take my hand and offer me the Peace of God. He looked me in the eye and blessed me and moved on down the line of "invisible" crew. 

The Archbishop did in that setting what he had done all his life: he saw the invisible ones and blessed them ~ in our case with the Peace of God, in his homeland with a fight for justice and equality. No one from that stage (and I stage managed a number of those assemblies) had ever reached down and acknowledged our presence just off stage left in plain sight but invisible. 

The world was made better by your presence in it, sir. May your heavenly dance continue. 

ER

I had a rather nasty episode last week and went to the doctor to get an antibiotic. He couldn't find anything and, although he admitted he might be overreacting, sent me to the ER for a cat scan of my brain. Whoa! I admit to being scared. Well, they ran a battery of tests and everything was negative. You can be very busy in the ER as they take you here, there and everywhere, move you through this machine and that machine and poke you in this arm and then that arm. 

They found nothing except a rather low oxygen level. They ordered the oxygen too late in the day for delivery and so they sent me upstairs to an observation room for the night. Interesting situation when you left home at 11:30 am expecting to be home in an hour. I did discover the toothpaste and toothbrush they provide so that helped. 

I came home with several oxygen tanks and a permanent oxygen machine was delivered about an hour after I got home. So - for now I am on oxygen 24/7; I have home health care to work on balance because there is still some vertigo symptoms present; and I miss my workouts with my trainer. It is my goal to get back to those as soon as possible. 

ER observations: everyone is friendly, helpful and tries to figure out what may be wrong with you. They will feed you anything you want whenever you want it. If you are allowed food, you may have it. They don't want you to be hungry. However. when you don't get to order breakfast, you get the absolute worst omelet in the world. I found out it is prepackaged and tastes like sand. My egg salad sandwich for lunch was made with real eggs and the salad was crisp and tasty. 

A big sign on the wall of the room said "Call nurse before getting out of bed!" I kept Jorge, my night nurse, hopping. He was great though and stopped once to sit and visit which was really nice. I was very glad to get home. I'm getting better although still struggling with some vertigo and staying on oxygen for a while. Staying inside is easy right now as we are in the middle of an atmospheric river of snow. If I had to visit the ER, I'm glad I made it in and out before the river arrived!

 

Ta-dah! Just Like That ~

 ~ I have a treadmill!! 

Friday night I thought the exercise equipment we had talked about but had no where to go just might go on the front deck. Saturday morning I mentioned it to Dean. By Saturday afternoon, he had gone to Craig's List, found a treadmill for $100 in Tahoe City about 5 minutes from our house, made contact and plans to pick it up Sunday morning. By late Sunday morning, I had a treadmill ~ with some effort on Dean's part of course. 

It's located in the most protected corner of the front deck, covered in a never-before-used grill cover which is perfect in case the snow does blow. Last night it snowed, coming straight down but I was still glad the treadmill was covered. I'll just bundle up to take my morning walk. I'm so pleased we found it, bought it, and set it up before the snow came. Dean's timing around snow arrival has been great this year so we are ready for winter and I am ready to enjoy my morning walks on my front deck. 

Age Adjustment

 As I grow older, and I have to admit I am growing older, I am learning it is wise to make some adjustments to compensate for that fact. This week it came in the form of making apple sauce. 

Traditionally I would put the crate of apples on the counter and cut and chop and cook and blend until the whole crate was gone and apple sauce was in the freezer. 

This year I found lovely Apple Hill apples at our Farmers' Market and chose a lovely selection to mix into the blend for apple sauce. Then my body aches started - my personal trainer even sent me home from our session when he saw the way I was walking into the gym. I ached. And I had apple sauce to make. What to do? 

Well, think about it, Susan. The whole crate doesn't have to be used all at once. Solution: yesterday I made two pots of apples. Today I made two pots of apples. Tomorrow I will finish the crate. Once the apples were cooked, I let them cool while I ate lunch and took a nap. Then I blended them and put them containers to freeze. Done in a way that gives me my terrific (if I do say so myself) apple sauce and at the same time didn't wear me out and made me hurt even more. 

Folks, I don't like to admit to hurting and feeling bad and not being as active as I once was ~ and the fact is, that's the way it is. So, I adjust. I'm learning and every adjustment keeps me moving forward and staying in good shape for 78. I'm grateful for life and all it's flavorful adjustments! 

Country Ham

 

A North Carolina friend sent country ham. Or as my cousins used to say, "coun'ry" ham. We served it up with grits, red eye gravy and fresh squeezed orange juice. Delicious!! The only thing missing was biscuits but Dean had his usual pecan sticky bun and, as you can tell, I had my usual English muffin. So yummy!

So here's a Southern breakfast story for you. We were in North Carolina a few years ago and this friend and his wife took us for breakfast at a restaurant for a real Southern breakfast. I mentioned I was going to have the ham with poached egg. His wife said that North Carolinians may not know what a poached egg is. I tried to order it anyway and our server didn't blink an eye and my egg came perfectly poached and all was well. 

A little over a week later we took cousins to a diner for breakfast. Again I ordered country ham with a poached egg. The server looked at me like I was nuts. "Poached?" she said with a wrinkle in her brow. Quickly I remembered my friend's previous comment and said, "over easy, please". The eggs came perfectly done over easy and all was well. 

My childhood summers were spent in North Carolina where my uncle would also have a Smithfield county ham that he parceled out over the summer both for breakfasts and dinners. I miss having it readily available and am grateful for a friend who knows me well enough to send a care package occasionally. So good regardless of how my eggs are done. 

Shopping Basket Art

 For years I have admired the woven shopping baskets for sale at the Farmers' Market and watched women carrying them as they gather their purchases. I always wanted one but thought that my tote bags and lately my grocery bags were sufficient and I didn't need to add to my collection. This week I decided I really did want one and they didn't cost that much and so I bought one. It is lovely

It is light weight and big enough to hold tomatoes, potatoes, grapes and spinach, strawberries and peaches and one very special cookie that I indulge in at the market. 

Now, here's the fun thing I didn't know. The company that makes them was started by a young Kenyan woman who came to this country to go to school bringing with her a suitcase of souvenirs to give to new friends. She soon realized that she just might be able to  sell such products, made by the women of her village, and help support the work of the women from home. And so she could. You can find these lovely baskets and other woven goods at https://www.gitzellimports.com/

Air Quality Index

 I have become fascinated with the Air Quality Index

Early this morning it read 282 (Very Unhealthy). Now it is 315 (Hazardous). Without reading it, I know that my eyes are dry and itch, my sinuses are stopped up, and I have a smoky headache. And at the same time it is rather interesting to know what weather science says about all that. 

Yesterday was gorgeous! The sky was blue. I could breathe outside without a mask. At the Farmers' Market, strangers talked about the blue sky and the view across the lake. Dean and I ate lunch on the deck for the first time in a week. Before we did, I wiped the table which was black with soot from smoke. It was lovely. And then things began to change. 

We say the smoke will come or go depending on the wind shift. Well, yesterday afternoon there was no wind. The sky was blue ~ and then it was sort of grey-ish. And then a bit darker grey. The West Shore disappeared from view and the forest had pockets of grey between the trees. No wind blew. There was no creeping in like fog. It just ~ changed. The full moon rose like a blood orange with nothing else visible in the sky. And the Air Quality Index crept slowly upward. 

Even as I write this, I am so grateful that all we have is smoke. Blessings to all those who are in the fire's path. Please, hold thoughts of safety for all our fire fighters both in the air and on the ground. 

"For what we are about to receive . . ."

 Years ago I went to a women's meeting in Japan. I was the only American there due to being national President of Church Women United. Our lunch the first day was a box lunch. I opened mine to look on raw fish, something I didn't recognize, rice and a sort of cabbage slaw. Oh dear. And then I realized this was food that had kept these people healthy and well for centuries and yes, there were a few things in the box I could eat. Then we were asked to bow our heads for the grace before the meal. The woman praying prayed in Japanese of course which I did not understand. Into my head came an ancient Anglican/ Episcopal prayer that has become practically by osmosis a part of Christian tradition no matter what our denomination. "Lord, for what we are about to receive, make us well and truly thankful." And I prayed that even over raw fish because I was being fed. 

Today an article in the NYT California section told about folks living in one of the richest counties in the state who have had to apply for food stamps and go to food banks because of the pandemic. I know this happens. I know people are suffering. And the article made me very aware that Dean and I are so blessed. We have continued to have an income and food on the table. At every meal we talk about how blessed we are and how grateful we are for food. "Lord, for what we are about to receive, make us well and truly thankful."

With Liberty and Justice

 When I was in elementary school in the 50s, we recited the Pledge of Allegiance every morning. Even back then something sounded a bit off to me although I couldn't have told you what. When my daughter was in the 8th grade (I think) they were going to say the Pledge and she came to me and said, "Mama, I can't do it. What do I do?" Giving it very little thought I realized she was having the sane questions I had had years before. I suggested she say the Pledge to the country as envisioned by so many good people: people, like her father, who marched for Civil Rights; people, like her grandfather, who fought in WWII; people, like her other grandfather, who defended a black man in the white courts of the South in the 30s; people of all times and races who knew that there wasn't liberty and justice for all yet ~ and there could be! 

We aren't there yet. In many ways we are slipping back from where we were even when she struggled with  what to say. Racism is rampant. LBGTQ folks struggle with acceptance of their identity. Immigration policy is chaotic with no sense of it being about human beings. We still have a problem with seeing the other as the same as we are. The right to vote is just now being restricted in such a way as to block people of color and economic diversity when every citizen should have access to a ballot and a way to make their voice heard. 

I may be disappointed and I am hopeful. White police who murder black citizens are finally being brought to account in the courts. Same sex couples are finally allowed to marry and adopt children. Women are finally being heard when they speak out about consent. 

I continue to be optimistic that one day, in this amazing country where the struggle continues,  there will indeed be liberty and justice for all. So - on that note, I wish you all a happy 4th of July! 

Family Time - Finally!!

After more than a year of COVID lock down, we all were vaccinated and Michelle's family came to Tahoe. It was a Delightful week ~ and here we are!!

Activities included shopping at Savers in Reno for wonderful vintage clothes and cooking. Cooking included: 

Michelle and Marc made kabobs and Marc made Chicken Adobo.

Trinity made crepes.

Akira made pudding.

Trinity made designer French bread.

And we all feasted well for five days. 

To prepare for more feasting later in the summer, Trinity helped Dean plant tomatoes, rosemary and basil.

Just for fun, the kids went kayaking and one night even battled a bat. 

Woke to this note on a paper towel. Orkin will arrive tomorrow if we haven't gotten it out yet. 

Grandson Carter from the McKay side of the clan 

came to dinner and a really good visit one night. 

Neighbors also came to dinner and to visit.

It was a wonderful week of lots of visiting and activities and just

being together as a family. Michelle took one last selfie as she and I 

prepared to say good-bye. This time, however, we have a date for

our next visit. Family love is very special and we have had the 

good fortune to have most of ours come this summer - three down,

one to go. Much love. 

I'm Spoiled

 We have a large portion of the McKay side of the clan visiting us this week. Due to a dietary issue in the family, they had hired a nanny who cooks for them. They brought her with them to Tahoe where she has not only continued to cook for all of us but also clean up after the meals. Wow!!

Son Rob has actually banished me from the kitchen for the duration of their trip and after deciding against all my Southern upbringing, I could do that, I have left it to Coco. Oh we are eating well. 

Even for meals that are not technically Chinese, her vegetables are brilliant with a flavor that is different to what I would prepare. For lunch today, she cooked veggies that we mixed for ourselves into a stir-fry: carrots, cabbage, onions, rice and left over pork shoulder. Yummy!! Like I said, I am spoiled. 

Dean said to his son, "What will you do when she leaves?" I said, "What will we do when she leaves and we've only had her around for a week!!" 

We will miss her when they leave and in the meantime, I will enjoy being spoiled and relish the delicious food laid before me and be grateful for Coco's arrival in our lives for a week. 

I'm Normal!

 At the opening of the musical The Fantastiks, The Girl has a lovely monologue that ends "Please, God, don't let me be normal". Often I have quoted that to myself until this morning when I was so grateful to discover I'm very normal. 

I was listening to a discussion about the new CDC guidelines for fully vaccinated people being able to go without masks in most situations and the opening of restaurants, churches, schools, society in general. I have said over the last several weeks, "I found it easier to shut down than I am finding it to open up again". An epidemiologist asked her blog listenings how they were feeling about getting back to pre-pandemic life and 79% of them said they were anxious. Thank You!! 

One woman even said she had been looking forward to going out, setting up play dates for her children, and now that she could, she wasn't sure she really wanted to. Last week friends were in town and asked to meet us for lunch. Whoa! I wasn't sure about that at all. We went. We ate outside. Everyone around us arrived masked until our food arrived. I made it through that first baby step. 

The doctors in this discussion all said we had to listen to our own emotional well-being and so I felt fine about what I was doing which is exactly that. Normal for me means listening to my body and not feeling pushed to do or be something I am uncomfortable doing. Please, God, let me be normal!!

The Workout Advantage

 Most of you know I now have a personal trainer for about 18 months with a long break because of the pandemic restrictions. I have slowly been regaining my strength and have known over the last couple of months that I was getting stronger - confirmed both by my trainer and by my massage therapist and just by the things I am able to do with more ease. So - working out two days a week has been helpful. 

Thursday night three of us (Dean, me and our friend Jessica) had had dinner on the front deck. I was carrying two plates with some steak fat and gristle on them back inside when I tripped over the door jamb. The plates flew out of my hands, my arms went out to protect me, and I landed slam on my already sore knee. OUCH!

So there I was, laid out on the floor, surrounded by broken plates, steak fat and juice, holding my knee and crying and practically screaming "Oh God, my knee! Oh God, my knee!!" Dean and Jessica were right beside me of course and together we eventually got me up at which point we realized my knee was very sore, probably bruised but in no way broken or damaged even. They got me in a chair, elevated my leg, put an ice pack on the knee, gave me Ibuprofen,  and brought me my dessert (Akira's chocolate pudding!). 

I am fine. Just sore. And the reason for the subject of this blog is that I have fallen before, I know what it is like for several days afterwards and I just have not had that this time! Even the day after I was able to walk around my deck, do some mild arm exercises with my 3 pound weights, and rest comfortably. There is no way I could have done that without the benefit of my workouts and getting stronger. I never thought that surviving a face plant would be one of the benefits of working out. 

And so you know - the initials used by massage therapists (RICE - Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) for me now stands for Rest, Ice, Chocolate pudding, Elevation. 

A Universal Pattern

 Astarte, Ostara ~ Goddesses of fertility, spring, new life. The Church adopted Asherah worship and named it Easter, a variation on the name of the Scandinavian goddess Ostara, in about 155 of the Common Era. Many years before the resurrection of Christ, humans were aware of and celebrating the return of life into the world and into their lives. 

Christians around the world are celebrating Christ’s resurrection. All human being, no matter what their faith belief, recognize the pattern of death and resurrection in their lives. 

Probably the most obvious example right now is how many of us feel after that second COVID vaccination. Many of my friends have had really severe reactions sometimes for up to a week ~ and then suddenly they are ok again. Dean and I keep large pots of mint and rosemary on the back deck and for months now those pots have been full of dead stems. Just yesterday we commented that we hoped both herbs would return soon. Moms have looked into the eyes of a sick child and known it was not yet time for them to be up and about until the next day when the eyes are bright and mom knows recovery is complete. These are universal patterns of death and resurrection and they are happening over and over in our lives. 

This is a Divine pattern played out over the cosmic ages that Easter reminds us to recognize and celebrate. It’s an old universal pattern that continues to breathe new Life into our souls. A Blessed Easter to you all in the many names of God. 

Well, Of Course It Is!

 I have always been interested in words and where they came from and how we started using them. I rather amazed myself today when I was reading along and came upon the history of a word that I had never thought of before. 

The book is A Visitor's Guide to Jane Austen's England by Sue Wilkes. She is writing about travel in the late 1700s and early 1800s. 

        "Foreign visitors have some troublesome formalities to undergo at the customs house when they disembark because of England's war with France. You must show your passport to the customs officer, or give a written statement of your name, rank, former residence, and servants' names. The officer will issue you with a certificate of arrival. You must not leave the port without first getting a passport from the local magistrate or mayor." (pages 26, 27)

And there it was, the origin of the name of that little booklet we need to pass the port of a foreign country and enter the country itself. 

Not sure why I never thought if it before. You may be thinking, "Come on, Susan. You know that." Well, no, my friends, I had never put it together before or thought about where the name might have originated. Now I know ~ and I'm just a little excited about it. Hope you can find pleasure in little things as well. 

Well, Shit!

When her father died, my daughter Meredith and a friend "designed" a sympathy card expressing how they felt. The front would be all white and lovely and traditional. When you opened it, there were only two words: Well, Shit!

My best friend died today. I was born in January of 1943. She was born in July of that same year. For 77 1/2 years, she has been a part of my life. She shared all the heavy stuff: weddings, parental deaths, Rex's death, pregnancies, and the sharing of maternity clothes. We shared lighter, fun stuff: playing together as children, dating together as teens, road trips as adults. We were the kind of friends who could go for months without speaking and then start a conversation with right where we were in the moment. 

Several years ago she called and said, "I have a book I want you to read with me." That started us on another part of our journey together. We read theology and Biblical studies. We would talk once a week and sometimes we talked only of the book and sometimes we never mentioned the book because life was too important in the moment. And that got us back in the habit of calling just because we needed to talk.

And then one day she told me she wasn't feeling well. They think it was a viral infection that attacked her heart. I hurt. I will miss her more than I can say. I have written a long document detailing our story and I will read it again and again. It is very hard for me to be in the world without her. Well, Shit!

Hope

 This blog was supposed to written around Christmas and here it is almost the end of January. However, given what happens in this country tomorrow (January 20th) maybe it is a good time to write about Hope.

Back during Advent a FB friend asked what brings us hope. I immediately responded "babies". There is something so pure and delightful about a new born. Potential surrounds them. Joy greets them. In wide- eyed wonder they face a world they may just have the ability to change for the better. Is it any wonder that the writers of Jesus' life decided to start with his birth? 

We all started from that wonderful place. Unlike other mammals, we don't rise and walk within minutes. We must be nurtured, loved, educated, cared for. And just like a baby, a dream of a better world needs to be nurtured, loved, and helped to grow. This evolution may take a long time ~ too long perhaps ~ and there is always the possibility just in front of us that a child will step into the dream and bring it to fruition.  

                                                                                          (image is copyrighted)