Friday mornings I am part of a zoom call with about 20 people. We never have that many at once, but usually around 10 make the two-hour call. A friend of my husband’s asked me to join. He thought I’d be a good fit for the group. Why? I’m not sure.
Interestingly, there are only two women in the group — including me. Also, I’m the youngest by at least 10 years. The oldest is 101 years old and sharp as can be. Demographically, they are highly educated, successful individuals. There are two neurosurgeons, several attorneys, a guy who ran a bond desk, and another who ran a hedge fund. The other woman is a mayor of a Southern California town.
Then there’s me. A former stay-at-home mom, former PR employee with an undergraduate degree and current blogger.
What’s the purpose of the zoom call? To determine “What is the truth.”
We discuss current events, politics and religion. All the stuff you’re not supposed to talk about. Yet, with our contrary views, everyone is civil and we are learning a lot from each other. At least I am.
One of the things I’ve learned about is Israel and Judaism. The majority of the group visits Israel annually and are deeply religious Jews. My daughter’s best friend growing up was Jewish and I learned a lot from their family about Orthodox beliefs and practices. But this zoom call is giving me an intensive history education in the nation of Israel from several scholars and teachers in our group.
Needless to say, today will be eye opening reviewing the events of the past week.
God bless everyone! Have a safe and happy weekend.
I woke up to thunder. The sky was dark and ominous. While writing my morning pages in my journal, there was a cloud burst and rain. My husband and I both ended up in the backyard. He left through the kitchen door, and I went out the bedroom slider, but we ended up together to experience rain.
It was a short-lived rainfall, but then there was that wonderful smell. There’s a word for it:
Petrichor: The distinctive scent which accompanies the first rain after a long warm dry spell.
I wrote about petrichor when I first discovered the word a few years ago. I wrote about it HERE
After a rain where we live there is a rich deep smell from creosote. Every region must have its own distinct petrichor, depending on plant life.
I took a look at what I wrote (link above) and what hit me was how many of the bloggers who I enjoyed reading and interacting with no longer are around. I clicked on their names and to read “page not found” or blogs with no new entries since 2021.
Do you find bloggers you followed have disappeared? Do you think it’s a coincidence it happened through the shutdown years?
Do you think that we should give our readers a warning if we stop blogging? Why or why not?
Sunday, I was getting the house ready for guests. As I was cleaning out my paperwork and assorted crap I squirreled away in drawers and cupboards in the Casita, I thought about what fun things we could do with our guests without leaving home.
Our guests asked us to quarantine starting today before their arrival. Would you quarantine for upcoming guests?
You would if it was our guests — my son and his bride. Also, our daughter and Buff’s brother, to help with the drive (who are in the quarantine pod.) They will be here between chemo infusions, if they get the okay from her doctor after a blood test to determine her immunity level.
In case you missed the story of their wedding and cancer diagnosis, you can read it HERE.
I looked outside and glanced at the fireplace. Now that the weather is a bit cooler at night, I envisioned us sitting around the fireplace. Then my mind raced to marshmallows and s’mores!
Whatever happened to the telescopic marshmallow roasting sticks we bought 20 years ago? Did they make the move from California to Arizona?
The last time I remembered seeing them was in photos camping at Carpinteria State Beach when the kids were young. AND on our RV.
I had a light-blue, rectangular plastic storage box with camping kitchen necessities, including matches, that I pictured in my mind. That’s where they were. I’d bet on it. That box made it from tent days to RV days, to somewhere in our garage, unless it got thrown out when we moved.
If you want to read about our lack of RV skills, please read my story about our mishaps HERE. We were NOT happy campers.
In the garage I found a cardboard bankers box that said RV on the side. I unpacked it and found plastic plates, bowls and glasses that will be perfect poolside in our backyard. Next, I found the plastic storage box with more goodies like the matches, spices, knives, a can and wine opener and our red-and-white checked tablecloth.
No marshmallow roasters.
Before I turned to Amazon for help, I got the brilliant idea to look in my kitchen drawers. Voila! I have two out of the four. I must have given my kids the other two because they both loved camping during college and the shut down.
I found two out of four marshmallow roasters I bought 20 years ago. We will be s’more ready and can enjoy evenings in the backyard, without leaving the house.
What are your thoughts about camping? Are you a tent person or an RVer and why?
Do you think my quest for 20-year-marshmallow roasters is quest for memories past and easier times?
Sitting at a doctor’s office, I read about low-sodium diets. My first thought was, “who needs that? I eat healthy.” In fact, I never salt my food.
Then I read some more.
One of my go to foods is cottage cheese. I wrote about cottage cheese trending HERE.
When I got home, I looked at the label on my Trader Joe’s low fat cottage cheese and discovered 330 mg of sodium! Our Greek yogurt has a fraction of that.
Who knew?
Did you know that most pasta has 0 grams of sodium, but canned sauces are loaded? I made my own sauce with canned diced tomatoes (you have to look at the labels there, too. Some cans are packed with sodium while some are zero.) I sauteed onion, garlic — added hamburger, the canned tomatoes and threw in a bunch of chopped basil. Yum!
Some of my old favorites are off my list:
Top Ramen and White Cheddar Cheetos. One package of Top Ramen has 1590 mg of sodium. My “Simply Cheetos White Cheddar” have close to 300 mg in a serving. Somehow I don’t believe their serving size is that big…
I tried this low sodium kick for two weeks. I didn’t stick to it 100%, but I checked labels and tried other choices. After two weeks, I thought I deserved a treat.
I love the hot wings they have at our grocery store. They have six different flavors in a serve yourself wing bar. I picked out my favorites and took a bite once I got home.
Wow. It tasted like poison! It’s amazing how quickly your palate can change.
I found this at the doctor’s office:
It turns out that a low-sodium diet isn’t necessary for everyone. It’s good for those who have high blood pressure, heart disease and kidney disease. Low sodium diets may reduce cancer risk and improve our diets because most high sodium foods are not that good for us.
FYI, I made delicious cauliflower soup with my inversion blender. Yes, it’s more work than popping in a Stouffer’s or boiling Top Ramen but I feel good and I’m enjoying cooking.
The point of this exercise was I had no idea how much sodium I was eating. I was clueless thinking I was super healthy because I love veggies and salads. But sodium is hidden away in the strangest places.
Click HERE for a website I found from the Mayo Clinic for tasty low-sodium recipes.
Were you aware that cottage cheese is filled with sodium?
Do you care about what you eat and if it’s healthy or not? Why or why not?
My kids at the beach with Angus, our best dog ever.
Angus was the best dog ever. That’s hard to say, because I’ve loved every dog in my family since I was a young child, through married life and kids. But Angus was special.
We got Angus from Guide Dogs of the Desert after being on a waiting list for several years for one of their “rejects.” I’ll never forget driving to pick him up with my husband, first-grade son and toddler daughter.
Angus appeared, wagging his tail with a stuffed sheep in his mouth.
My husband immediately fell in love. After Angus was in the car with the family, I ran back into Guide Dogs’ office.
“If he doesn’t work out after a few days, can we bring him back?” I asked.
The woman at the counter looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. She said, “Here’s his shot and birth records.”
“Oh!” I said stunned. Angus shared my son’s birthday.
When we brought Angus home, he was seven-months old, had some guide dog training, but failed because he was pretty wild. He did make it on the cover of Guide Dog’s brochure, though, because he was so handsome.
Our daughter spent the next few months living on countertops, the coffee table and sofa so she didn’t get tumbled by the wagging tail.
We soon learned that Angus was trained to open the fridge to help a blind person find their OJ or other items.
Angus thought our fridge was a self-service appliance for butter. Counter shopping got him treats like a loaf of bread and once while cooking dinner, I turned around to find a steak missing.
I’d walk by the kitchen to see Angus on his hind legs counter shopping and he’d quickly drop to the floor. “Who me?!”
One day, I couldn’t find the large kitchen trash can. I eventually found it behind a tree in the backyard.
Often, I came home to find the bathroom trash which was wicker with a wrought iron leaf pattern around the top — connected to Angus’s collar. Again, the look of “Who me?”
Angus on the wide chaise lounge. We spent many nights sitting together watching stars.
Angus was a working dog. It was his joy to pick up our newspapers in the morning. He’d go out the kitchen door, through the garage, to the street to pick up our two papers. Sometimes, when he was feeling extra, we’d get the neighbors’ papers, too. The newspaper job evolved to Angus leaving payment for papers.
Driving the kids to school, I’d see my husband’s tighty whities out on the street — in exchange for the newspapers.
We lived one block from downtown Palm Springs. Across the street was a hotel. I can’t tell you how many times we’d get a call from a hotel employee telling us Angus was working the pool guests for snacks.
You have to understand that Angus wasn’t allowed to roam wild. We had a walled-in yard with a gate. But Angus knew how to get out.
Once we were downtown walking with friends from Seattle. We returned after dark to see cops and strangers outside our house. The strangers said Angus was downtown barking like Lassie, trying to get someone to follow him. They did and ended up at our house, afraid because the lights were all on, with the gate and French doors open wide.
They called the police, because they were afraid maybe something deadly had happened. Everyone including the cops were relieved we were okay. An officer threatened to write up Angus for a ticket, but that didn’t happen.
For my son’s second grade birthday party, we held it at the city pool and he asked for donations for Guide Dogs of the Desert. He raised more than $1,000. I wrote a story about it that was published in the Los Angeles Times. You can read my story HERE.
Angus was with us until after he was 15 years old. We knew it was time when he’d get lost in the garage trying to pick up newspapers. He also fell into the pool several times. He had trouble standing up.
Why were we keeping Angus alive? It wasn’t for him, that’s for sure.
My husband said he’d take Angus to the vet. Then my daughter, who was a senior in high school, said she’d go. That left me feeling like a coward. I had to go, too.
Once in the examining room, we all petted and loved on Angus. The vet took a needle and injected it into his front leg. The syringe broke in half and the medicine sprayed all over the room.
We finally said good-bye to Angus. A nurse came in with a baggie of his hair and asked if we wanted it.
After ten years of being with the love of his life, our son made the big step called commitment.
The risk of losing Buff was right before his eyes. She was diagnosed with colon cancer and was facing surgery. They decided to get married before surgery.
We were on vacation in Santa Barbara. They had originally taken time off work to spend a week with us.
The wedding was scheduled in Berkeley at the courthouse. No way were we going to miss it. We booked flights from Santa Barbara to Oakland. The day before their wedding we got one of many calls.
“We both tested positive for COVID,” our son said.
Surgery was scheduled 10 days out, so thankfully Buff’s surgery wasn’t delayed. In the meantime, our son ended up in ER with COVID.
Surgery turned out much better than we anticipated. Big sigh of relief. I wrote about those days HERE and HERE. They said the longer the surgery took, the better the outcome. I was literally praying hour by hour. It was more than six hours, which was the best outcome possible.
Post surgery, they waited one week for pathology reports. We were sure everything was fine because surgery went so well.
My son called us — trying not to break down — that pathology was not good. Stage 3 C, which is a step up or down from Stage 4 (depending on how you look at it.) She has a 40% chance of being cured. Don’t want to talk about the 60%.
They had a window between surgery and chemo to get married. They kept the wedding small outside the Mendocino County Courthouse with their “pod.” We stayed home and I was weepy during their marriage. The next day I was filled with love and hope for them.
They got married with some of Buff’s family, our daughter and a few of their closest friends.
California-style, they had their wedding dinner outside at In-N-Out.
They spent their wedding night in Medocino County in a gorgeous VRBO on a river.
