The Best Birthday Gift

She doesn't usually know who I am anymore. Or, at least, she doesn't appear to know me. She doesn't even recognize her own home and often wants to leave so she can "go home" when she's tired and wants to go to bed. She even walked out of her house, down the street and around the corner, with the TV remote in her hand, escaping from her very frightened caretaker, only to be found a few minutes later by some very kind neighbors and my sister...

But she's always happy anyway and loves visitors. So I went to see her on my birthday last month. We sat on the love seat in her living room and she was just looking at me with a kind of blank look in her eye. Staring.

Then, suddenly, an awareness came across her face. She looked at me as if she hadn't seen me in a very long time. "You're my daughter!!" she said. "You're my daughter!!" over and over and over. So excited her hands were shaking! "Yes, I am." was all I could say. She hugged me, telling me that I was her daughter. So happy to see me. It was my birthday and my mother knew who I was!

The best birthday gift ever...

Spa Day?

It all started because I needed a routine colonoscopy. Now this isn't something that I look forward to, but necessary to be done every 5 years if I want to remain healthy. I've already had an experience with cancer and will do whatever I need to prevent it from occurring somewhere else, thank you!

I purchased my nice box of medicine to start the cleansing process. 2 mild laxative pills and a 2 liter container with powder to mix with water and flavoring. I was a little nervous to be going to school/teach that day, but I was told I could continue with my regular routine and that I wouldn't be interrupted with any sort of emergency situation. Only clear liquids from the time I wake up and no solid foods or dairy products or red colored liquids. I had gone shopping for chicken broth, yellow gatorade, and apple juice. I'm ready to go...

I took the 2 pills at noon, drank my 16 ounces of chicken broth, and continued on. Drank tons of water and sipped on my gatorade all day. No problem. Went to my voice lesson after school. No problem. I thought, "this is easy." Then about 10 minutes into my lesson, I looked at my teacher (a woman, thank goodness!) and made a mad dash to the bathroom. Whew! made it! 

Ok. Let's try this lesson again. Singing, singing..... Mad dash to the bathroom! Whew!!!! made it! Sang for 5 more minutes because I needed to go through a couple of pieces with her, ended lesson and went home. 

The evening sessions, drinking my 2 liters and spending lots of time in my pretty blue and white bathroom, was interesting. When I told my daughter about it earlier in the day, she had said I should turn it into a "spa weekend." So my bathroom had the candles lit and a pretty vase of baby pink roses on the shelf. I also added a nice basket filled with interesting reading materials, pencil and paper, things that could occupy my time. It helped. It also helped to be able to go out into my hot tub when it was all over at 11 p.m. and soak in the 103 degree bubbling water out in the beautiful cool evening. I went to bed and slept peacefully.

The procedure went smoothly and my gentle husband held me close as he walked me, wobbly from the medication, out to the car. I walked up the walkway to our house and he commented about me looking "like I had been drinking." Wobbly from the meds, hungry from not eating since 2 days ago, happy to be home.

Well, I continued with the spa feeling and made myself the most delicious, healthy drink:

unsweetened almond milk, one whole banana, frozen blueberries, and a splash of 100% cranberry juice. Put all in the blender and blend till nice and smooth. Pour into a large, pretty glass. It's the most beautiful blue color and tastes delicious.

Then I sat in the "dapply shade" on my back porch with my basket of reading and my computer. Lovely. Suddenly getting hungry and with my husband gone to work, I prepared my lunch:

I put 2 large tablespoons fresh tomato salsa on my plate

(mine was mild, but you can spice it up if you like)

Then I put 2 eggs, fried in olive oil, on top of the salsa

(it warms it up a little. nice.)

and made a slice of french bread toast with butter.

My dessert was a cup of sugarless apple sauce and a hand full of nuts.

Water, water, water all day, of course.

Feeling wonderful. Spa weekend? You bet! 

Christmas is coming and the money is going...

We've become overwhelmingly commercialized in the U.S. and I wonder about other Christmas gift giving traditions. I "googled" and found this:

In Italy, instead of children writing letters to Santa Claus asking for presents, Italian children write letters to their parents to tell them how much they love them. The letter is then placed under the father's plate and read after Christmas Eve dinner.

Now, I love getting gifts as much as anyone else, but how I would treasure a love letter from my husband, from my child, from my grandchild!

Mamma

I got to her house just as she was ready to go for her afternoon walk, holding on to her purse with one hand and her caregiver with the other. At almost 94 years old, she gets around well but conversation comes in very small snippets if at all. Her world is often her memory of childhood and sometimes I think she's back in her Italian village in the mountains of Tuscany.

As we head out the door, she knows the directions she wants to walk. Turn left at her sidewalk, turn the corner at the end of the block, cross the street and walk to the next corner, turn that corner and the next, cross the street and walk to the parking lot of the neighborhood restaurant. No, you don't stay on the sidewalk there, but must walk through the parking lot and under the overhang of the building. Her walks never change. Her step is quick and has purpose. She holds on to her caregiver the entire time and is careful not to fall.

Today she held on to my hand also. A beautiful, warm, sunny Thanksgiving weekend and the sidewalks are covered with autumn leaves of every color. She wasn't careful walking through the leaves. She headed toward them like a child heading for a rain puddle. Head a little down, feet suddenly dragging on the dry pavement, then a bit of a rush as her little feet became buried in the dry leaves and she swished through them singing something I didn't understand.

She's happy. She smiles all the time. She sings. She lives in a world that I don't know. But once in a while she shows me a picture of her world. Sort of like a quick look through her window and then the curtain is drawn again.

Pasta with Fresh Tomatoes

Very simple. Very quick. Very good.

Drizzle olive oil in a skillet. Chop some garlic (I used 2 good size cloves) and add it to the warmed oil. Saute on medium heat just until you start to smell it. Then add about 5 or 6 chopped Roma tomatoes. Stir around a bit and let cook on low while you cook the pasta. The tomatoes will make a nice delicate juice. Keep low so the juice doesn't dry out.

Add 1 pound good quality penne pasta to boiling salted water and cook as directed. When the pasta is cooked, drain well and add to the tomato skillet. Add more olive oil and stir to combine well. Add some chopped fresh basil. 

I serve it straight from the skillet topped with grated cheese and fresh perle Mozzarella. Pour yourself a glass of wine and you're suddenly in an Italian village!

A daughter's cancer

Our children aren't supposed to get cancer. My daughter, a young wife and mother, is supposed to be enjoying the best times of her life. But she was recently hospitalized with thyroid cancer which spread to two lymph nodes. Her thyroid and two lymph nodes were removed. Seeing her in the Oncology Ward of the hospital broke my heart. 

Now she's going back to the hospital for an Iodine Radiation treatment that I can barely understand. She's a fighter. She always was. Now she's fighting to get rid of the cancer that has invaded her body. Her spirit is positive and she's ready to go. Anxious to get through this next step. Wanting it done and over. Me too.

The best times of her life are just ahead. Healthy. Strong. Happy.

We will never forget

A beautiful morning. 

A motorcycle ride on Highway 50 near Lake Tahoe. 

Car out of control crossed over the two lane road to oncoming traffic. 

Senseless accident.

Unbelievable tragedy.

A vital life gone in an instant.

53 years old

Over 750,000 miles on his bike and heading for the  million mark...

About 75 motorcycles with two Highway Patrol escorts slowly approached the funeral home.

Not a sound except for the quiet roar of the motorcycles. 

All was still. Silence. Tears.