BAKE!

 Don’t let a recipe tell you how many chocolate chips to use. You do you, girl. 

My Mom was a wonderful home baker. Her cooking? Ummm… not so much. I mean we didn’t starve but meals were pretty much meat ‘n potatoes, Midwestern style. I didn’t even have spaghetti until I was married with kids of my own and bought a cookbook. 

Remember cookbooks? Before every recipe known to man was on the internet? Have to admit I’m guilty of store housing my recipes in folders in cyberspace. And remember recipe cards? I do miss the tactical feel of a recipe card. When I helped my Mom and Dad go thru a lifetime of things in their home preparing to move to a retirement apartment I came across Mom’s very old, falling apart wooden recipe box, full of handwritten recipes of hers, my aunts, maybe even my grandmother. She said, “Oh just toss that; no one wants that.” 

“Mom! I do! This is priceless!” 

“Ok, it’s yours.” 

But I digress. My Mom baked the best cinnamon rolls. Charlie requested them every time we visited. Kringla – a Norwegian kind of shortbread thingie – was a staple in our house. 

She made the most delicious pies – with crusts created with lard – the old school way. Cherry pies with the lattice top. Lemon meringue with the perfect meringue. Rhubarb… omg my tongue twitches with the tartness of the yummy rhubarb freshly harvested from my Aunt’s garden. Pumpkin pie every Thanksgiving. 

She made a frozen ice cream cake – chocolate cake with ice cream in the middle, then rolled, frozen and sliced off. Omg. Yummo. And the most moist and delish carrot cake with cream cheese frosting.

My younger son is the one who inherited the real baking gene. I mean, he’s a fancy pants baker man who could probably be on a baking show. I’m not the baker Mom was but I do enjoy baking. I love trying new recipes and am happy when they turn out. 

When Mom passed I collected some of her better known and loved recipes, matched them with some photos of Mom and put together a book for my siblings, my sons and my nieces and nephews. It was challenging because most of Mom’s recipes were in her head so it was “I think this is the measurement… not sure, ”Not sure what she meant by ‘a handful’ but good luck.” 

I never really understood why I have this thing for baking. Maybe it’s Mom living thru me. How lucky I am to be her daughter. 

Go forth and BAKE!

Namaste. 

Silently listening.

 Listen and silent are spelled with the same letters.

I came from a big family of stoic Scandinavians. There wasn’t a lot of conversation and when there was, it was about practical matters. There was no going deep, no talk of family history, religion (I mean that was a given, no need to talk about it), politics, the funny thing that happened that day…

I married into a family of people who like to talk. A lot. Talk a lot. They are talkers. All of ‘em. Sharing stories of the past, current events, the latest best movie or book, the awesome lunch they had and laughter. Lots of laughter.  And I love them all dearly. What a fun bunch.

After a year and a half someone finally asked, “Hey. Who’s that blonde in the corner?”

So the blending of my past and my present has been challenging at times. As an introvert (Scandinavian stoic), too much conversation exhausts me. I mute the TV sometimes – even if I’m following a movie - because it’s just too much talking. Large crowds give me anxiety. Too much talking. And too much in my personal space. Oh, I have a severe case of claustrophobia, too. Elevators are not my friend.  An Irish goodbye is my modus operandi. 

Having grown up a stoic, quiet Scandinavian has its upside. I am perfectly happy spending time alone. I have so many creative hobbies and interests I need two lifetimes to get to them all. I am never bored. It’s why the Pandemic wasn’t all that hard for me. Well, except the fear of dying part but that’s a story for another day. We were all there. 

That said ~ one-on-one friendships, even two… three at a stretch… friendships are my jam. That is my comfort zone, my happy place. Because god knows, we all need those few special people to be there. They ones who "get" us. And to be there for them.  

That’s when I listen. That's when I'm silent. That’s when I’m there to hear you. To silently listen and hold your hand if you need it. Because you do that for me. 

Namaste.

Choose Your Battles

 Choose your battles.

Nope. That’s too many.

Put some back.

Nope. More.

One more.

Good lord… how many do you have?

This is my life every day. 

I live with a plethora of animals. All rescue/shelter kids who arrived with a plethora of issues. Name it, we've probably dealt with it. 

So there are a few daily “disagreements” to diffuse, moments when I have to stand (literally) between a couple throwing hissy fits, an endless parade of toe beans marching their way across my kitchen counters, pups so noise reactive that they can hear a pin drop… you get the idea. It is relentless.

Kukki likes to ambush Kazz. Kazz likes to ambush Kobie (and me). When Kobie has had it up to here (I’m holding my hand to my forehead), he will back Kazz in a corner and smack him. Gotta’ admit that one makes me chuckle because 97% of the time Kobie is extremely laid back and puts up with alotta’ shi..., I mean, stuff. 

Hilo hates Kazz; Kazz hates Hilo. That’s where my Custer’s Last Stand comes in. Teddi loves to scare the beegeebers out of Kona with her chihuahua, “I’m comin’ for you” stare. Hana (the only female feline) LOVES her big brother Hilo and will turn to him for cuddles on the regular. I see Hilo heave a big sigh and give in. Sugar, especially since going blind, can hear a speck of dust floating thru the air. And bark. Relentlessly.

They are ALL on various forms of medication and I am oh so grateful they all take them like the troopers that they are. 

You never know what you're going to get when you adopt a rescue/shelter pet, but one thing I've learned ~ you go with the flow, learn along the way and the rewards are priceless. 

Kobie is the most gentle, loving, easy almost 16 year old boy. He is my heart beating outside my body.

Kazz is a sweet and affectionate 10 year old boy who would probably love nothing more than to be an "only." But there he is, next to my pillow each night.

Kona. Oh my 10 year old Kona. He and I bonded over his issues early on and now we are inseparable. He’s my loving little shadow. 

Hilo is an independent, but loving 10 year old fellow and has his spot between our pillows every night. I call him Professor Round Bottom because I know he is a wise, old soul. 

Hana is a 10 year old enigma, the only girl and Kona’s twin. She loves to hover over me while I eat and is an excellent biscuit maker. 

Sugar is the most brave and adaptable 10 year old puppy. She loves nothing more than a good snuggle and a lap to warm. Did I mention she is brave?

Teddi is 10 years old and part chihuahua. 'Nuff said.  When not sleeping she’s licking the carpet and staring down Kona and begging for loving strokes on her wee head.

Kukki is the 7 year old character in the family. He is the very definition of a ginger cat. He’s trouble and adorable all wrapped into one big hunka’ hunka’ burnin’ love. 

They are all a combination of mischief and love. 

I am their Kahu - their Guardian, Protector, Steward, Beloved Attendant... Basically, someone entrusted with the safe keeping of something precious.

They are my Hygge - the coziness, the warmth, the love that makes me feel content, calm and happy. So happy. 

Namaste. 

Reflections

 It has been a week of remembrance, a week of heartbreaking tragedy. A week of “please do something before it’s too late” because the clock is ticking. A week of reflection knowing that life isn't fair.  

My country said farewell to our 39th President, Jimmy Carter. What an inspiration he was. His life was one of love and gratitude, grit and determination, generosity and compassion. 

The fires in Southern California are devastating and relentless. I sit here safe and warm, feeling guilty that I’m safe and warm. 

But I am reminded that no place is safe anymore. From wildfires, floods, hurricanes, bomb cyclone snowstorms and tornadoes. From guns and people who should not have guns. From “leaders” who do not have the best interest of my country in their hearts.

And Cancer sucks. 

The world feels like it’s spinning off its axis – and taking us all along for the wild ride. Whether we bought a ticket or not. 

So, in the meantime, I find comfort in little things. 

Like a funny wee blind dog who wants nothing more than to snuggle on my lap and toss her toys in the air. 

Like a delicious hot chocolate on a snowy morning. 

Like an unlikely duo cuddling on that same snowy morning. 

Like indulging my passion (obsession?) for jigsaw puzzles. And finding unexpected “help.”

Like the days becoming longer by the minute (literally) and catching the sun setting. 

And being grateful, oh so grateful, to be alive. 

Deep Breath.

Ok. Here we go.

New Year, New Blog. Why you ask? 

I don’t know. Maybe because I’m tired.

I'm tired of the way social media is manipulating us. I’m tired of the way social media and now, it seems, even some of the reliable “main stream” media are taking a right turn. I'm tired of politics and politicians gaslighting us.  

I'm anxious about the future of our country. And I don't mean anxious in a "happy to be here, looking forward to it" kind of way. I mean anxious in a nervous, worried, scared kind of way. I do not want some pious, righteous white man telling me I must live a pious, righteous white Evangelical way of life. 

 I don't want any billionaire telling me what I should and shouldn't see or what I can say or not say, share or not share. (Although those guard rails seem to have gone by the wayside anyway.) I also don't want to swim in the cesspool of hate and evil and cruelty and ignorance that is so abundant on some (most?) platforms and venues. 

Years ago friends jokingly called me Pollyanna; which means "a person who is constantly optimistic and chooses to focus on positive aspects rather than negative aspects." It's not always a compliment... Trust me I'm not Pollyanna every day (just ask my husband). I have down days, cranky days, blue days, frustrating days. But for the most part, since we have a choice how to view the world and approach each day, I try to find the positive. 

So obviously I need a little escape from today's world - and omg - what is about to come in the next couple of years. 

I will (try to anyway...) choose joy, choose light, choose the whimsical, choose the adorable, choose fun, choose compassion, choose love.  

So come walk with me.