Did you know there ARE rules about cookie baking. Uh-huh! Read on . . .

Christmas Cookie Rules…

1. If you eat a Christmas cookie fresh out of the oven, it has no calories
because everyone knows that the first cookie is the test and thus calorie
free.

2. If you drink a diet soda after eating your second cookie, it also has no
calories because the diet soda cancels out the cookie calories.

3. If a friend comes over while you’re making your Christmas cookies and
needs to sample, you must sample with your friend. Because your friend’s
first cookie is calories free, (rule #1) yours is also. It would be rude to
let your friend sample alone and, being the friend that you are, that makes
your cookie calorie free.

4. Any cookie calories consumed while walking around will fall to your feet
and eventually fall off as you move. This is due to gravity and the density
of the caloric mass.

5. Any calories consumed during the frosting of the Christmas cookies will
be used up because it takes many calories to lick excess frosting from a
knife without cutting your tongue.

6. Cookies colored red or green have very few calories. Red ones have three
and green ones have five – one calorie for each letter. Make more red ones!

7. Cookies eaten while watching “Miracle on 34th Street” have no calories
because they are part of the entertainment package and not part of one’s
personal fuel.

8. As always, cookie pieces contain no calories because the process of
breaking  causes calorie leakage.

9. Any cookies consumed from someone else’s plate have no calories since the
calories rightfully belong to the other person and will cling to their
plate. We all know how calories like to CLING!

10. Any cookies consumed while feeling stressed have no calories because
cookies used for medicinal purposes NEVER have calories. It’s a rule!

So, go out and enjoy those Christmas Cookies – we only get them this time of
year! 

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This cute thing I’d never seen before. On Friday, this week, 2 girlfriends and I (and my cousin Gary who will be here and has agreed to take on Dave’s role of washing dishes) are going to bake cookies here at my house. So we’ll definitely need to re-read those rules when we begin!

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Those of you who have been through this grief journey with me know that I haven’t cooked much for a long time. Nothing very noteworthy anyway. But because it’s Christmas, well . . .

Every year I bake a bread that has been a regular on our/my Christmas table. It’s not a new recipe by any means – in fact, I think I’ve posted about it twice. Bishop’s Bread. It’s packed with walnuts, chocolate chips and halved maraschino cherries. I’ve made this every year (except one) since the 1960’s. And as I write this on Friday, December 12th, until this morning I hadn’t baked a thing yet of my usual Christmas goodies. But this morning, as it’s raining cats and dogs here in Southern California (blessed rain, thank you, Lord) I felt the urge to make this bread. I’ve managed to do it with my ailing foot. I may be resting it the rest of the day because of it, but 2 loaves are in the oven.

Christmas music is playing in my warm kitchen, the rain is pitter-pattering on the skylight here in the kitchen, and I can hear the oven fan going. And yes, I miss Dave immensely. He’d be right here with me, grabbing up the dirty bowls, spoons, measuring spoons and cups, and throwing out those egg shells, cleaning up after me. If I let myself dwell on that, or all the other wonderful things about him that I miss, it will make me depressed. So, I’m not going there.

In 2008 I took the photo above, at one corner of the big pool, as the rain had completely filled the pool and it was overflowing. That’s exactly what’s happening right now, but it’s still raining, so I’m not going out there to take a new photo. That corner of the pool is lower than the other – settling has occurred on the property over the years. So it’s the low spot.

Anyway, baking – I’m just glad that I FELT like baking. My friend Cherrie virtually doesn’t bake. She cooks everything else, even cookies, but she doesn’t do other kinds of baking, hardly. I asked her if she wanted a loaf, and she said “oh yes, PLEASE!” She loves Bishop’s Bread as much as I do. So, celebrate with me/for me that I feel like baking. And if you don’t like fruitcake (my hand raised here), then maybe this bread is right for you.

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What a beauty she is! My DH just loved-loved-loved his boat. I took the picture at sunset.

A couple of weeks ago I told you that Dave’s sailboat is in escrow, and she has to have her sea trial this week, and some kind of an inspection to make sure she’s as seaworthy as I’m saying she is. I’m having lots of bittersweet feelings about selling her. Do I get seasick? Yes! So therefore, do I sail? No. Do I want to maintain her? Gosh no. Do I visit the yacht club regularly? No (too many memories there and it’s 90 miles away besides). And yet, selling her is tantamount to selling part of me, too. Dave and I bought this boat together. Me, for the entertaining aspect; Dave for the boat herself, to sail her, to go places on her (like the Channel Islands and Catalina). Whenever Dave got edgy, itchy, slightly grumpy (friends who knew him will say what? they never knew Dave as anything but up, always), he’d go to the boat and even a part of a day, or an overnight would put him back in tip-top mental shape. He’d come home with windblown hair (well, that was from driving his convertible with the top down) and the smell of the wind and the ocean in his sweatshirt. He liked to do almost all the work on the boat himself. You’ve heard the phrase, if you’re a sailor, the best day with a boat is the day you buy her and the day you sell her. I don’t think Dave would have agreed, but he did grumble sometimes about all the work on the teak. She has lots of wood up top and down below. Sea air does all kinds of rotten things, as well as the Southern California sun, to the condition of a boat.

There’s the crew in the cockpit: Yvette (Joe’s wife) sipping red wine, my best friend Cherrie, John (Dave’s old friend who captained the boat, and yes, he was reaching for the wheel), me, daughter Sara, daughter-in-law Karen, and Sara’s husband John with his back to the camera.

Anyway, last Sunday I gathered my local family and Dave’s closest friends and we went out on a last sail on her. We had a nice lunch at the yacht club first. There were 12 of us, I think (more than the boat can really handle in comfort, but we managed). John, the captain that day, and his wife live aboard their power boat at the yacht club, but he and Dave used to race sailboats years ago. I was so grateful for John’s help. I suppose I might have been able to maneuver her out of the slip and to the ocean, but I’m not a credible sailor.

In photo at left, daughter-in-law Karen, Joe (the dear friend who visits me now and then and spend the night when he’s in Orange County for business), son-in-law John (the back of his head), Bud (Cherrie’s husband) standing in the companionway, up top is son Powell leaning over the mainsail, and grandson John mostly invisible.

Once we got everyone aboard, John started the engine. I was sitting in the stern, and that was the first (of many) times that I “lost it.” Just hearing the engine start up was emotional. How many times had I sat in the comfy cockpit over the last 30 years and watched as Dave started the engine. It’s a Yanmar (diesel, of course) engine, and Dave would probably say he loved that engine. It never, ever gave us any trouble. It’s a unique gutteral, deep-throated chug-a chug-a sound. I’d recognize that motor anywhere. Kinda silly to be emotional over the sound of a diesel engine, huh? But this grief thing – you just never know when you’ll be hit with a memory. That was one.

Captain John got all the guys and grandson John to prepare to pull out the jib. This boat has a roller furling – so much easier to manipulate and maneuver than a full sail you have to stow down below. It rolls up on a special kind of main stay/mast on the bow of the boat. But when you’re underway, and there’s wind, it’s a job sometimes to get the sail out. In the photo at right is Joe, with Sara who was beside me, working the winch/crank, trying to get the jib out full. Finally got it. Son Powell was working some getting us out too. I was so proud of him – despite saying he doesn’t like to sail (it isn’t that – it’s that he doesn’t like the work required to own a boat) – he’s very adept at sailing and knows what to do and when. He was keeping his eye on Vaughan, though, their 7-year old who doesn’t know a whole lot about sailboats.

Here’s a photo of Vaughan, though, at left, standing up next to me at the helm. Grandpa Dave used to let him captain a little bit. When he was about 3-4 years old, Dave let him do that for the first time, and Vaughan got real peeved when Grandpa had to grab the wheel. He was SO funny, “no, Grandpa, I’m steering!” He screamed bloody murder as Grandpa held on to avoid a buoy or some boat. On Sunday, he couldn’t wait to take the wheel, which he did for about 15 minutes, then he was tired of it. John was watching him every minute. Vaughan was looking for some building John had pointed to, that Vaughan needed to steer towards. He did a really good job! That’s me beside him.

The downtown San Diego skyline. Wow, how that city has grown in recent years. It was absolutely plu-perfect weather on Sunday – 70° and a light breeze. Cherrie said Dave must have ordered it for us from heaven. He’d have been so happy to have all of us – most of his favorite people in the whole world aboard his boat!

We sailed down the harbor for about 45 minutes or so, to the Coronado Bay Bridge. Here we are just about to go under it. We made a u-turn after that and headed back toward Point Loma.

As soon as we turned around, of course the wind changed, so we tacked. We were going into the wind, so Powell had both of the kids lie down flat up on top of the bow. Then the sail began to luff and the sheets (the lines/ropes that hold the sail) began flapping all over everywhere. When you’re under sail, the noise of that can be deafening as metal fasteners and the lines themselves slap against everything in its way. Vaughan and John-John thought it was all very “cool.” Somebody had to crank the sheets to get the jib adjusted just right. No problem – we had no lack of manpower. We sailed back up the bay again and the boat heeled over some. Usually you don’t heel over much with only a jib sail up, but we heeled some because there was enough wind. If you’re a true sailor, you love to heel over, which means there’s plenty of wind!

There’s Sara and me as we sat in the stern. We had just both had a teary moment. Doesn’t look like it, but we had. I shed a bunch of tears, some of them no one noticed because I was wearing dark glasses, and there were conversations going on all over the boat. We were having some good red wine – I’d gone down in the wine cellar here at home and selected 3 good bottles (we drank 2). We had one big toast to Dave (uh, yea, I had another teary moment over that as well).

Oh, that’s such a good picture of Yvette and Cherrie, at left. Believe it or not, we weren’t cold. We all had on some light wraps – the wind made it a little cooler, but it really was a pretty day. That was taken as we headed back up the bay with the San Diego skyline in the background.

It probably took us another 45 minutes or so to sail back toward Point Loma. And as we approached the end of Shelter Island, a man-made drive-on “island,” we needed to take in the jib, so John gave orders to all the grunts and they cranked in the jib. It was hard, as we were in a fairly good breeze. Again, the sail flapped all over everywhere, with metal fasteners banging on the stays, etc. Very noisy. Normal. John turned on the motor and we motored in and easily docked with 2-3 of the guys who jumped off to make sure the boat stopped. There was little or no breeze in the marina, thankfully.

Picture at right is Joe and son-in-law John. John the captain said goodbye to us all as we thanked him profusely for taking the helm for us. Yvette & Joe left, as did Bud & Cherrie. Then I asked everybody – yes, everybody – to go ahead and go, that I needed time alone on the boat. I don’t know that anybody understood, but I really did want to be alone, to say goodbye to the boat, to Dave, all by myself. So everybody left.

I went down below in the salon, and yes, indeed, I cried and cried. I let go. I let myself go, let myself cry my heart out. It was something I needed to do. I walked into every part of the boat – the forward berth, the head and shower, the galley, I looked at the beautiful teak floor (called a cabin sole), at the varnish on the table, at the nav table. Dave re-did the varnish on the boat nearly every year and it took him days. I touched surfaces everywhere, knowing that last summer (a year ago) he’d been hard at work on all of that. I thought about the hours of labor he put in, and again how much he loved the boat. I looked at the pillows on the settees that Sara gave Dave some years ago. I sat down and sobbed some more.

As I sat, because it was quiet outside (it was just about dusk), I just kept thinking I would hear Dave’s footfall as he would step on the boat from the dock. Or, I’d see him stand up in the companionway. I looked at everything. All the portholes, the TV, the cute rug on the cabin floor, the long cockpit seat cushions we’d stowed in the quarter-berth. The boat was quite empty of “stuff,” so it didn’t look  normal down below. Usually, Dave had a light amount of clutter on the shelves -winch handles, flags, cords, etc. In April we cleaned everything personal off and stowed any of the items that would stay with the boat so it would look clean for a new buyer.

Finally, I knew I needed to leave. I couldn’t stop crying as long as I was on the boat. So, I grabbed the wood slats that go into the companionway, took a couple of times to get them right (Dave always stacked them “just so,” so you wouldn’t have to guess which slat went which way, but that hadn’t happened when one of our group opened up the boat that afternoon). I pulled the hatch cover closed. I sat in the cockpit for another minute and stared at it. And cried some more. I said goodbye to her. Oh, it was so hard. How can a hatch be something to generate tears and sorrow? Well, it can, trust me! How many times had Dave’s hands grabbed those upper edges as he hopped onto the top step of the ladder to go below? Hundreds and hundreds. How many times had he stacked the slats? Pulled the hatch closed? Scrubbed that fiberglass? Washed the boat?

My family was waiting for me in the parking lot. Both Powell and Sara came to me and we hugged for a long time as I continued to cry. Finally, though, I explained I wanted to be alone – Powell would have driven me home (they were worried about me because I was crying), but truly, I needed to be by myself to mourn. Those of you who have been through this know that part. It was something about pulling Dave’s memory to me, me alone, because of the love and marriage we shared. I wanted to burrow down, fall within myself somehow and protect that last little bit of special sorrow that was there as part of saying goodbye to the boat. Sounds crazy, I suppose, but until you’ve been there, you just don’t know what that’s all about.

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This photo of Newport (Beach) Harbor, is almost looking west. If you don’t live here and haven’t studied a map, and even for some people who do but just don’t know better, the coastline in SoCal is almost east-west. There’s smog off in the distance, that pinkish haze just above the rooftops.

Before I went to a Thanksgiving Day dinner with family, I drove down to Corona del Mar. There’s a beautiful bluff there overlooking the entrance to the harbor, and at one place you can peek through the trees and shrubbery for a glimpse of the harbor itself (the photo above). There were a surprising number of boats out that day. I’d intended to go earlier, take my Kindle and read. I forgot the Kindle, and I definitely didn’t even think of taking a folding chair. There are cement benches dotting the park/bluff area, but every one was in full, intense sun – absolutely no one was sitting on any of the benches. It was in the mid-80’s and it felt blisteringly hot. I certainly hadn’t thought about putting on sunscreen! There were oodles of people out also and very few parking places.

That’s the breakwater where any boats entering Newport Harbor come in. I cropped the top as the sun reflecting on the water was just blinding! I think the beach you can see at bottom center is called “Little Corona.” It’s a very small beach and much coveted by beach-goers. I’m not sure there is car access – walking is how you get there. The people you see are way above the actual beach – you can just barely see a sliver of the beach.

Even though Dave hadn’t kept his boat in Newport for many years (he used to), I thought I’d feel some closeness to him if I went to the bluffs to watch the boat traffic. It might have been a sad time for me – and I was okay with that, but as it turned out, I never sat down anywhere.  Never had time for contemplation of this new status of mine: widow. I walked (slowly) a couple of blocks (my foot was okay for that much) and then back to my car. I drove some of the neighborhoods, trying to find another place to park my car in the shade – but where the water was visible. Couldn’t find any. Too hot to sit in the car. Best laid plans . . . . I finally found a shady spot on a side street and played Candy Crush. I’m stuck on level 123 (I hope you’re laughing).

If that’s not quintessential Newport Beach, I sure don’t know what is:  sunshine, blue water, sand, palm trees, green grass, beach, ocean and boats.

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It’s Wednesday morning as I’m sitting here at my computer in the kitchen. It’s chilly outside and I have my latte beside me as I wake up, before I begin working on a couple of projects. I’ve already made the cranberry relish that I’m supposed to take to the dinner tomorrow. Next is the simple syrup I need for the cranberry shrub I’m taking, to serve with bubbly, so I’m taking a couple of bottles of good Champagne. I’ll try to remember to take pictures! I bought a bottle of a cranberry mixture (liquid shrub mix) at a cute shop a couple of weeks ago – a store devoted to unusual spirits and gifts for the connoisseur of them.

Music is playing on my Sonos speakers from my Pandora Radio set-up. I’ve created a John Rutter “station,” which plays his music, but as I have taught it what I like, Pandora has found lots of similar music. A good part of it is choral music and a bunch of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir (which I enjoy anyway). I don’t want to listen to news. Nothing much good to watch or listen to on world news today. I’m more introspective this morning. Classical music comforts me most of the time.

This last week I’ve spent a considerable amount of time cleaning out my hubby Dave’s closet. That has to be one of the hardest tasks for family to do after the loss of a loved one. I remember helping my mother with my Dad’s clothes when he passed away, then I did it myself after my mother passed. I paused at one particular blouse of hers (days later, and ever since, I wish I’d saved it). So I’ve saved a number of Dave’s things – one particular polo shirt that I loved on him, a sport coat (black and beige plaid) that I always complimented him on whenever he wore it. I’ve saved his baseball cap with the boat’s name embroidered on it. Also his lava lava, a kind of a man’s sarong. It has to be 50 years old, and in recent years he didn’t wear it because he’d have to go back upstairs to dress later, and with 2 artificial legs, he limited the number of times he’d have to do that in a day. He also got cold more easily.  I saved his favorite belt with nautical flags embroidered on it. He’d worn it the day before his stroke. It was something I hadn’t noticed in his closet – that the shorts were on a shelf with the belt still in it. I pulled it to me and tried to find Dave’s scent. None. I’ve also saved the pajamas he was wearing – they’re sealed in a ziploc bag, but unfortunately his scent isn’t there either. It makes me so sad. Recently I did find a jacket he wore frequently, hoping because it hadn’t been washed, that I’d find even the smell of his sweat. Maybe that sounds weird to people, but when you lose a beloved spouse, you want to find anything you can that makes them more “alive,” even though you know they’re not. So sweat would have comforted me some, but no, none there. I’ve also saved his big, long thermal robe, bright red, with his name embroidered on it. I don’t know that I’ll wear it, but for some reason I can’t quite part with it. Some people just throw everything out. I’ve been judicious about that because of my regrets about my mother’s blouse. So even though I may not look at these things very often, I want to save them. To look at occasionally, to hold, to hug. Just writing about this makes me cry.

Overall, though, I’m doing okay. My friend Linda phoned me the other day after she’d read my post about grieving this week. She thought I was not in a good place. But I think I am okay. On that scale of 1-10, I’m about a 6 and I haven’t budged from that for awhile. I’ve been quite busy this week (always a good thing – at least it is for me) so I haven’t had too much time to be sad. I’m hoping tomorrow will be okay. I’ll be surrounded by family, and it will be loud, boisterous and busy-busy, so that will keep my mind from wandering to my grief. I’ll try to hold it off in abeyance. If that’s possible.

Dave’s sailboat is in escrow, so on Sunday, the family and a few friends are going to the boat to do the “memorial sail” in Dave’s memory. I hope the pleasant weather holds so we don’t freeze to death. There will be about 10-11 of us (that’s a lot for the boat to accommodate easily) so we probably won’t go out for long. As I mentioned before, I’ll take along some wine from the cellar, some soft drinks for the kids, maybe some coffee would be good, and we’ll go out to motor around a bit and tell stories. If I have time I’m going to write a letter to the new owners which I’ll leave with the yacht broker to give them after the close of escrow, when he gives them the keys. I just want them to know the history of the boat, as much as I can give them anyway. I don’t know a whole lot about the mechanics, other than the fact that Dave took very good care of her, so I don’t think there will be any issues at the sea trial which is scheduled next week. For a 30 year old boat, she’s in beautiful condition.

Next week I’ll post again, and hopefully have some photos to share.

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I wasn’t sure I should write a post about grieving, this close to Thanksgiving, but then I thought I should, but I will post this early, not just a day or two before the holiday. I don’t want my sadness to impinge on other people’s joy and thanks-giving.

As the months have gone by, my grieving has changed, as it is wont to do. If there’s nothing else you learn from this post, it is that everyone – and I mean every person – grieves differently, at different levels and for different lengths of time. Some grieve openly. Others do not. Some are so stoic and I’m amazed. I’ve always worn my emotions on my sleeve, as the saying goes. I still get teary-eyed sometimes at church, particularly over a very resonant hymn or hearing the choir sing a poignant piece of music (I’ve not been singing for awhile because of my cataract surgery, but am returning to it this week). I can shed a tear when someone comes up to me and tells me a story about Dave, or tell me they thought about him because of something or somebody else. Often it’s because they’d seen someone with artificial legs. Just the other day friends remarked on Dave’s “I-can-do-this” attitude because of being a double amputee. In grief, some people experience anger, which can be a stage of grief. I’ve not had that at all, not once. It’s been 8 months now and I’ve never had a moment of anger at him for leaving me. I know he wouldn’t have left if he could have made the decision. It was in God’s hands, I know it.

Some people whose loved one had a long, dreadful, lingering illness, grieve as a part of the process of the illness, and when the loved one goes, it’s a relief and a joy that they’re not in pain. That  survivor’s grieving cycle can be more rapid. Note the word can. My circumstances were different, as Dave was fine until the moment he had his stroke. We spoke very few words between then and when he died 9 days later. And he was in a coma during 6+ of those days. As I’ve said it here many times, he knew I loved him and I know he loved me. I wish I knew what it was he was trying to tell us (Sara, my daughter, and me) as they wheeled him into surgery on day 3. He had brain swelling, and the effects of the stroke were much more pronounced. He had very slurred speech and we just couldn’t figure out what he was trying to tell us. We both hugged him as best we could on the gurney. They were in a hurry to get in there and relieve the pressure in the brain, so we had no time to try to talk to him. They had called me at about 6am to tell me they were going to have to do emergency surgery, that I needed to get to the hospital immediately, the surgeon was on his way. Sara and I got there just a couple of minutes before the surgeon came to talk to us. Anyway, we don’t know if Dave would have been able to converse – and we knew we couldn’t understand him. He seemed a bit agitated, but he might have been telling us to check his blood sugar or something very simple. We don’t know. So many unknowns. When my mother died in 1997, her heart just stopped. She was fine the evening before, had even driven to our house the day before. I’ve been selfish all these years in thinking that I never got to say goodbye to her. How silly is that? She knew I loved her, though.

The 13-week grief class helped me some. But I also found that each week, as we gathered together, we’d watch a video, talk about it, then go around the room and each person shared an update about their week (grief process) and provide their score (1-10, how are you feeling today?). In those conversations we’d hear the sad stories of the other widows and widowers, which left me even more sad than I already was. I’d go home and just be sad all the rest of the evening. That’s not enough reason to not take a grief class – I think it offered me insight (the class part). Some of the ladies and men in the group may not have had many friends and were very glad to have met a kindred spirit. But it’s not enough motivation, for me anyway, to take the class again, which often is recommended. I’m finding that even reading some of the books about grieving (I have many) now make me sad – sadder. More and more, I don’t want to read them because I always end up in tears. When I have a crying time, the effects of it last for awhile – sometimes a few hours, sometimes the rest of the day. So for now, that stack of books in the photo up top are tucked onto a shelf. I know where they are if I need them.

Gratitude figures significantly in my life right now – not only for my loving God, in whom I trust – but in my many Christian friends who have come along side me week by week, month by month. My friend Cherrie is the one I turn to first – I call her any time of day or night when I’m having a sad spell. She listens, comforts and sometimes even cries along with me. And gratitude for my family as well. I don’t see them very often, but they lead very busy lives and I understand that.

I’m in negotiations, as I write this, to sell Dave’s sailboat. My heart breaks at selling it, but gosh, the boat has sat at the dock for all these 8 months without ever leaving the yacht club. She’s cared for superficially, but nobody has taken her out. Dave was an excellent sailor. He began sailing when he was 8, and there was no turning back. He used to race in his younger years (20s and 30s). He owned a 27-foot Catalina that he raced for years and years. Then when I came into his life, we bought this boat together (a new 38-foot boat with a wide berth which makes for a very nice salon down below, a bigger cockpit for sitting, but isn’t sleek for racing) – not only for Dave to pleasure-sail her, but also for us to entertain on, which we did a lot, for about 15 years. Dave’s two best sailing buddies (Gary and Tony) died some years ago, so he had to teach some other people how to sail with him – Joe (my/our good friend who comes to stay with me every couple of weeks) was Dave’s most frequent helpmate on the boat. Joe’s wife Yvette went along sometimes. And Lindy, a sweet gal who was Gary’s girlfriend. She lives near the boat and Dave would call her once in awhile to go check on the boat – to make sure the lines were holding, the sail covers were all attached and not flapping – particularly after a windy or wet storm. She isn’t an adept sailor, but she learned how to help Dave.

You’re hearing a lot more about boating than you might have wanted, but I’m feeling good writing about this. I’m needing to give Dave a lot of credit for his boating skills. Yacht clubs docks, or any docks and slips for that matter, are often very tightly packed and maneuvering a big boat in and out of slips can be challenging, especially if there is wind. A cross breeze is the most difficult. Dave was a wizard at it, and hardly anyone wanted to back her out or pull her in. Dave took over always. I think there was only one time in my recollection that he didn’t quite aim right and the wind was gusting and he bumped the next-door boat. But that’s why boats have protection (bumpers) for that. No harm done, except to Dave’s ego. If there was excessive wind, Dave would cell phone call one or two of his friends on other boats – or he’d hail them as he was motoring in – and ask them to come help tie her up. Boaters are a fiercely loyal lot – and with Dave being a double amputee, everyone was willing to help. God bless them!

There’s a very funny story – I don’t think I’ve ever told this one here on my blog – Gary, who didn’t own a boat – was a happy 60-ish bachelor who loved to sail but never wanted to own a boat himself. He was perfectly content to sail on other people’s boats. He loved Dave’s boat and he liked to help keep the boat maintained. He was a wizard with electronics and mechanical stuff, so Dave relied on him often to fix things. After his sudden death a few years ago, we finally learned that he worked for Naval Intelligence. We always wondered – we thought he might have been FBI or CIA. He worked for the Navy as a civilian (we thought that was his “cover”) but because Gary couldn’t ever tell us about the reason for any of his assignments, we figured it was top secret stuff. Sure enough it was. He was sent all over the world – he’d be gone for a few months with no communications at all – then he’d tell us he’d been in Panama, or Spain. Anyway, I can’t tell you how many girlfriends Gary had over the years. We met oodles of them, and most were not suitable as mates. Lindy would have been a wonderful mate for him. He always said he didn’t think he could be faithful to just one person, that he’d wander, hence he never married.

Anyway, because Gary worked near the yacht club, and because Dave had given him permission to use the boat when he wanted, he’d often take dates to the boat for a picnic dinner or a tryst. Occasionally he’d take the boat out for a motor around the harbor. Once he had a “fender bender” with another boat inside the dock area which caused some damage to both boats. From there on out Gary never took the boat out, but just stayed on-board at the dock. In the boat file in Dave’s desk I found a letter Gary wrote Dave where Gary promised to give Dave an endless number of hours of hard labor because of the accident he had. Dave paid for the repairs to both boats, even though it wasn’t his doing, but that’s kind of a rule of sailing/boating. Well, anyway, the story to tell is that one day Gary took a gal to the boat. Gary didn’t tell Dave, and it just happened that Dave decided at mid-afternoon he was going to go to the boat, stay overnight and come back the next day. He didn’t call Gary either. It was summertime – nice weather. Dave parked and walked out the docks to the boat, and there was Gary, with a girl aboard, as he was just about to back out of the slip. Gary saw Dave and said “oh, hi Dave.” Obviously he was embarrassed. He said something to his date like “that’s Dave, who helps me with the boat.” Dave realized that this girl thought Gary owned the boat. Dave said, “you’re going out for a sail?” Obviously, Gary didn’t want Dave to go along in any case. So, Dave sucked it up, and said “okay, captain, have a good sail.” Gary grinned from ear to ear and said “yea, thanks Dave.” So, Dave went into the yacht club and had dinner and waited for them to return, which they did several hours later. They didn’t encounter each other (Dave thought it best not to). The next morning Gary showed up and profusely apologized and knew he was in the wrong to try to imply he owned the boat. Gary often did that, he said, to impress the girls. But, I don’t think he ever did that again!

The boat is so “Dave.” The plan is, whenever I do sell the boat, that the family and a few friends are going to go out for a one-last-sail in memory of Dave. I’ll be an absolute emotional wreck. We won’t go out in the ocean (which is what Dave most loved to do, to actually sail, not just motor – that’s why I rarely went with him) because I get seasick, but just motor around San Diego harbor, which is huge. I’m fine in the harbor. We’ll likely tell stories about Dave. There are lots of them to share. We will have wine – I’ll take several bottles from the wine cellar. We’ll all shed a tear, I know. We’ll take John and Renee along too. They live aboard their boat at the yacht club, and they knew Dave long before I met him. John is a great sailor – he’ll be an excellent captain. In a way I’m dreading doing this because it will be the last piece of Dave – a physical piece – that I’ll have to say goodbye to. It’s going to be heart-wrenching. I’m sure every widow or widower has similar stories. I’ve decided that I’m going to write a letter to the new owners to tell them some of these stories. I don’t want to sell her to someone who won’t take care of her – she’s a beautiful boat. He loved that boat so much. Sailing was really his only hobby and he took great care of her.  He was fiercely proud of her, too.

Sidetracked. That’s what I am . . . back to grieving. Holidays are a very rough time for grieving spouses. I managed to get through Dave’s birthday in July only because I wasn’t home (I was in Washington, D.C. with my granddaughter). I’m glad, in one way, that Dave died in March because it’s given me months to get used to his absence (as much as that is possible). Thanksgiving was Dave’s favorite holiday. For the last many years, we’ve had the big turkey dinner at our house or our house in the desert (we sold our desert house last year, thank goodness, or I’d be having that on my mind too). I cooked like crazy for days ahead of time, and Dave did lots of work too. But with me and my foot problem (my foot is better, by the way, but I still have a long way to healing completely) I knew I couldn’t do the big dinner as usual. Sara and her family are taking a vacation to the San Francisco area for most of the week. So my daughter-in-law’s sister Janice and her husband Julian are having Thanksgiving at their house and I’m invited. I hope I’ll be okay.

Christmas will be even harder for me.  Christmas is my favorite holiday. My cousin Gary will be here with me for a week or so (thank goodness, and thank you, Gary – he reads my blog). We’ll be at our son Powell’s home locally on Christmas Eve. They have a big family gathering (mostly Karen’s side of the family) for prime rib and a gift-giving game, the one where you can steal a gift up to 3 times. On Christmas morning Gary and I will do what little gift giving there will be between us, then we’ll drive to San Diego to spend the rest of the day with daughter Sara and her family. We’re going to do something on the 26th – maybe visit Seaport Village, or . .. I don’t know what. Maybe nothing. Don’t know. Gary usually flies home before New Year’s. Maybe I should plan a get-together with some widow friends on that evening. Good idea – I’ll think about that. Dave and I never did celebrate NYEve – it was a crazy time to drive anywhere, so we usually had a nice dinner at home and went to bed early. Probably Powell will have a New Year’s Day dinner. Or maybe Janice will. Don’t know. Can’t think that far ahead.  They probably haven’t, either.

All of that being said, my mental wanderings, just know that people in grief need extra care – extra love, extra hugs, extra kindness, and especially understanding and patience. Don’t ever say to someone in grief – even if it’s been way too long, you think – “hey, get out of your depression/grief” or “get past it.” It doesn’t help. It only hurts. The emotional loss is deep, and it’s only brought more to the surface at holiday time. Doesn’t matter what holiday, or a birthday or a wedding anniversary. Be encouraging. Call a friend who is a widow and take him/her out to lunch, invite them to your home over the holidays, even if they weren’t regularly part of your family. This is especially important for grievers who have no local family. Just food for thought. If you do have a fully intact family, be thankful. Praise God. Say grace every time, but especially before your Thanksgiving feast. Tell your loved ones you love them. Please. Don’t do it for me, but do it for yourself or for that friend in need. You just never know what could happen tomorrow. Thank you for listening . . . . if you feel so inclined, you can say a prayer for me that for Thanksgiving and Christmas I will be able to celebrate the joy of life with my family, and not dwell on my significant loss of my dear husband Dave. I wish for all of you that you have a very special Thanksgiving with someone you love or care about.

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I’ve had a request to post some pictures of the view from my house.

There’s the view at sunset. Catalina Island is the small set of mountains way out there. The gray stuff below that mountain range is the ocean. It’s about 10 miles away, and it’s 25 miles from the coast to Catalina.

Dave and I moved to this house in 2003. I think I’ve told the story before . . .  we lived in a house about a mile from this one, and we were trying  to figure out how to add a wine cellar. So, I suggested we go look at some newer homes, more high-end ones that would have a wine cellar – but purely to get ideas for how we might add a wine cellar to our existing home. We started at new sub-divisions nearer the ocean from where we lived (it’s about 10 miles as the crow flies). We looked at a few and yes, they had lovely, really big wine cellars, the kind you might entertain in. I mean, who does that when a wine cellar is supposed to be kept at 56° for heaven’s sake? Unless you have a warmer room that’s surrounded by refrigerated, glass-fronted cases. I shudder to think about the electric bill on that one. Anyway, none of the wine cellars were something do-able for our home in Dave’s opinion. We weren’t looking to buy a house; besides the homes were very pricey, out of our league, for sure. Maybe the basic house was attainable, but with all the add-ons they do these days in new-builds, well, it would have been way too much money.

We had talked about building an underground cellar in our backyard at the old house. I don’t think we were ever serious about doing that, but we did talk about it. Our backyard wasn’t all that big, but we might have been able to find a space that would have worked. But Dave also wanted to add a walk-in closet to our master bedroom. We did have 2 fairly good-sized regular closets, but we both were cramped without enough space for clothes. Dave tried to figure out if he could combine a wine cellar entrance inside the master bedroom closet.

That’s an old photo and the view isn’t all that great because it was a hazy day, but out there at the horizon is the ocean. It’s just that it’s so far away you can’t see the water. The only time the ocean is visible is when the sun reflects off of it. My house is about 750 feet above sea level.

Anyway, we started looking at homes (still with the idea of researching wine cellars) in our area and when we saw this house, it was love at first sight. It had a wine cellar.

It wasn’t all that pretty. The cellar was quite basic, though it was air conditioned properly. The photo above was after we remodeled the wine cellar. Anyway, when we saw the view from this house, well, I think we just said okay, guess if we’re ever going to live in a house with a view, now would be the time. Dave was about 64 then and I was 62. Now I’m 73 and Dave is in heaven. I think about Dave a lot when I go out on the patio to look at the view – I walk out there quite frequently. This time of year is beautiful – the sunset especially. And I do love the view.

The view from the kitchen. Most of that foliage has been chopped back so there is more “view” visible. You can see some of the view out the left window. Those palm trees are also gone.

When we remodeled the house and added on the big kitchen (in ‘06) Dave asked for a view from the kitchen sink (remember, he did ALL the dishes), and by golly, he got the best view possible!

There’s another view. Those are the same palm trees that have been removed and that’s a view looking more northwest in the winter when the sun sets more to the north. Bad haze that day.

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I’ve been meaning to post pictures of the patio since it’s finally completed. As I stood out there the other day taking these, I just choked up, big time, that Dave didn’t get to see it. Although I suppose he probably has/does, if he/we can see down here on earth, once we get to heaven. I know he would have been pleased with it. We had agreed on what we were going to do, and the construction started the day Dave had his stroke. I could have stopped it easily enough, but I did want the patio re-done and know it will be an asset if/when I ever decide to sell the house. My home is still where I feel the most comfortable. It’s a safe haven. I love my home. I don’t much enjoy the headaches that go along with owning an old/big home, but so far it’s do-able.

Remember, I live on a hill, so that view is looking back into the side yard/patio, with the hill at the back. The garages are back around to the right with a big retaining wall that holds up the hill! The sitting area is down there on the right, nestled in next to the family room window and the north view is visible from there out to the left, on the far side of the fireplace. The gas log fireplace has a nice raised hearth. It’s all new furniture except for the table, which was newly powder-coated in a smooth stippled black and chocolate color. The cushions are not a Sunbrella fabric, but a new sun-resistant outdoor fabric. I find that they do get dirty very easily – am not sure I should have chosen such a light color, but they all have zippers so I can wash them if needed. All the cushions got wet in our rainstorm the other day – I had covered up everything with towels, thinking we’d just get a “shower,” as the weather experts predicted. No, it was a short deluge, so everything got wet. They’re all drying in a standing-up position at the moment.

There’s the real “view” although it was not a very clear day when I took these pictures. It was gearing up to rain, actually. The outdoor countertop you can see on the left – it continues on around the corner. The windows on the left are the kitchen. The bar-height table we already had, but it got newly powder coated also. Want a laugh? The umbrella you see there on the right is actually sitting – the marble base – in the jacuzzi. (Thanks to my cousin Gary who helped me get it in there this year.) Dave had figured out how to do it, with rope (“line” in sailing parlance) tied just so on the handle. We’d done this every year for several as it works like a charm – in the early summer months the sun beats in there and you can’t have a dinner meal without being blinded, so the umbrella gets put up and tilted so it makes it bearable! The big pool is out at the far left. My friend Bill (husband to JoAnn, and a couple in the evening bible study group that’s been going for 18 months or so) is going to help me get it out of there this week. He’s been SUCH a big help to me – he offered soon after Dave passed away – that if I needed anything done, he’d be happy to do it. And oh, gosh, has he ever! I am ever so blessed to have many, many friends.

There you can see the kitchen countertop a bit better. I have some drawer storage and 3 compartments underneath to store stuff. Note the ultra-cute outdoor chandelier. Found it online. IT was relatively inexpensive! But, it only cost me about $800 to have the electrician get a watertight plug mounted up there. Dave would have had a FIT about that expense, though he would have liked the finished product. Outdoor lighting (as in the chandelier) like that has little glass bowls that lock in place over the bulbs – to make it watertight. The BBQ is there in the background, with the gray cover on it. The door on the right is the dining room. A little hard to see. I also bought an outdoor table lamp that’s on a table in the seating area at the back. I haven’t taken the cellophane off of it because one of the glass bowls broke in transit and it just got plugged in out there. And now it’s time to take all that stuff into the garage – well, the cushions and the 2 outdoor fixtures anyway – until next spring.

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Roux – that ubiquitous mixture that forms some of the great flavor in gumbo. Photo, by the way, is from wikispaces.com. In  the October ‘14 issue of Saveur Magazine, a little photo illustrated the making of a roux in the oven. Yes, really.

The method is Alton Brown’s. Heat the oven to 350°F. In a large 8-quart Dutch oven or deep iron skillet, mix equal parts canola oil and all-purpose flour. Whisk it, cover it, put it in the oven for 1 1/2 to 2 hours until it’s deep brown. Move the pot from the oven to the stove top and make the gumbo from there.

Quicker Cooking of Beans – Had never heard this recommendation – soak dried beans overnight in water with one teaspoon of baking soda added per quart of water – and the beans will take much less time to cook, in nearly half the time. It has to do with the alkalinity (the soda) breaking down the cell walls of the bean. This was also in Saveur, but the info comes from Harold McGee’s book, On Food and Cooking: The Science and Lore of the Kitchen.

Removing Red Wine Stains from Linen or Cotton – In the same issue here’s a recommendation about removing red wine stains – forget the salt, seltzer or baking soda . . . this one says apply a high-enzyme liquid detergent or stain remover (look for the word enzyme on the label). Work that mixture into the stain with a brush, pour boiling water onto the stained area and allow it to soak for 30 minutes. The advice came from two women who have a laundry product line called The Laundress – www.thelaundress.com

Very little cooking is going on in my kitchen. I’m now getting around in an orthopedic boot (meaning my plantar fascia IS torn, not just stretched). Must wear it for 3 weeks, then graduate to good, solid athletic shoes with good arch support, doing exercises very gingerly at first. I’m off pain killers (a good thing) but only because the boot kind of rocks my foot forward so I don’t land on the heel (where the major pain is). The boot isn’t uncomfortable exactly. Just cumbersome. I can’t stand for more than a minute or two, then my heel starts to hurt. All that to say that I can’t begin to stand at my kitchen counter to prepare a meal. Forget it! So I’ve been eating out more than usual. Am eating some stuff from my freezer too.

I still can’t believe it’s been 6 months since my darling DH passed away. How can it possibly be 6 months ago. My cousin Gary is visiting me and I asked him, yesterday, to drag out of the closet two big storage boxes that say “Fall Décor” on them. In my dream last night I came home from somewhere and saw that Dave was putting out Christmas décor in the house (stuff he usually didn’t do anyway – he did outside stuff, not inside stuff). I was just going toward him to tell him no-no-no, honey, not yet,  wrong holiday, when I woke up. I wanted so badly to fall back into that dream and have a conversation with him, to hug him, to kiss him, but alas I couldn’t seem to do it.

My cousin has been so helpful – he’s visited because he had a family wedding to go to over the weekend. I had him work on a TV-cable-tuning-adapter-Tivo problem and he finally, after several hours, one trip to the cable store and multiple phone calls to both Tivo and Cox, to get it fixed for me. He’s moved some things around for me, and he’s very fun company.

I had my first cataract surgery 11 days ago. It was cinchy easy. You’re awake all through it, but it wasn’t scary. It didn’t hurt at all. You can’t actually “see” them do it. My vision out of that new lens is certainly better than it was – brighter colors and more clear – but I can’t wear my old glasses. I wore trifocals, had been for years, and this interim time between now and mid-October when I have the 2nd eye done, is really hard – eye strain and poor vision. A friend finally suggested I buy two pairs of readers, with different magnification and put them together in one glasses frame. I’ve done that. I can barely see close-up stuff through the new lens through the readers. The other eye, well, that one’s awful. Can’t see a thing. I can’t wait for the other surgery. Then I must wait another month before they’ll test my eyes and see whether I need to wear glasses or just readers. I suspect I’ll need glasses for mid and close range. I’m having an awful time reading the computer during this in between time. And music – it’s hard being in choir and barely being able to read the music. My Kindle has an adjustment for type size, so I am able to read that fairly well.

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When I mentioned last week that I’ve been fixing some of my old, tried and true recipes, I thought I’d just tell you what those have been. I haven’t made all these in the last week, but over the last 2-3 months, really. There’s one new recipe near the bottom. I’m not writing up a post about it – it was really good, King Arthur’s Classic Peach Cobbler. I liked it.

Thank you, to all of you who have left comments or sent me email notes. Your very kind compliments warm my heart and lift my grieving spirits. Today, as I write this, I’m feeling pretty well. On that grief-scale of 1-10, I’m at about 5 1/2, I guess. Maybe a 6. I had a bad patch a week or so ago and sunk down into the abyss, but after several days I crawled back up into normal-ness again. I functioned – I went to things, kept appointments, but in between I was wretched. Crying for no particular reason. And it lasted for days. I cooked because I had to, and made things to take to gatherings because I’d promised I would. This grief thing is so very unpredictable. Someone told me the other night that grief experts say the 2nd year is the worst. Oh my, I can’t imagine it being worse. Heaven help me if that’s true!

I’m busy, which is a very good thing. I need to be busy. I actually sat outside on the patio last night and ate dinner. I turned up my Sonos speakers in the house, tuned into the Pandora channel I created with classical music, mostly by John Rutter. Lots of choral music comes up on the channel that keeps evolving when I tell Pandora I like a particular piece of music.

Here in Southern California we’ve had very hot weather this summer – so hot that 13 out of every 14 nights when I’m ready to eat dinner it’s still in the 80s outside with very high humidity, and that’s too hot for me. I had left overs from the dinner I did the other night when I invited 9 women friends over, most of them widows. We had a very nice time that night. I started the dinner right at sunset and God granted a lovely one that night. My new outdoor patio and kitchen looked lovely bathed in the soft light and candles, along with some regular lights too. I’ll post photos of the kitchen one of these days. I promised I’d do that and I need to honor my promises, right?

Minted Watermelon and Feta Salad – so refreshing, while watermelon is still in season.

Watermelon Gazpacho – I just posted this last week, but I’ve made another batch of it. Love this stuff.

White Sangria with Tuaca – so refreshing! It’s great for a warm summer evening. I served this at the dinner.

Creamy Garlic Blue Cheese Dressing – my old standby salad dressing that I go back to over and over and over again.

Garlic VIP Dressing – my other go-to salad dressing. I made this for the dinner the other night and served it over mixed greens (sturdy type) with cauliflower bits, Feta and toasted almonds.

Marinated Tomatoes – when tomatoes are in season, this is a favorite. Looks pretty too.

Meyer Lemon Grains Salad with Asparagus, Almonds and Goat Cheese – such a great salad to take to a potluck lunch or dinner.

Pasta a la Puttanesca – this was my main dish for my guests for the dinner the other night. I served the pasta hot with the Puttanesca sauce, room temp, on top.

French Hamburgers – Julia Child’s recipe. Such good comfort food.

Syrian Pita Bread Salad – I took this to a potluck on Labor Day. It’s a favorite of mine (thank you, Joanne, again, for that wonderful recipe!).

Garlic Green Beans – these are a regular now. I can’t tell you how many of my family and good friends now claim it as their own too. SO easy.

Purple Plum Torte – this was the one from the New York Times.

Dario’s Olive Oil Cake – a real favorite with 1 1/2 whole oranges in it and made solely with good EVOO, pine nuts and rosemary.

King Arthur’s Classic Peach Cobbler – I made little tiny cobbler biscuits for the topping because I knew the women would take small portions, so everyone got a little bitty sugar-topped biscuit.

Chocolate Syrup – I make it in a double batch so it’s always on my refrigerator shelf. Ice cream is so comfort food for me when I crave a little bit of sweet, I top it with this syrup and a few chopped nuts.

See, I told you my old recipes are what I’m cooking lately. I’m still augmenting my diet with ready-made food, something I generally (in the past) just didn’t do. I had Trader Joe’s frozen Chicken Tikka Masala the other night and it was delicious. The link is to my recipe, which is wonderful, but since I didn’t feel like cooking, heating up TJ’s tray was great. I’ll be back in a few days with pictures of my kitchen and patio. Tonight I’m having my DH’s and my bible study group here at my house – that’s why I baked 2 desserts the other night – knowing I’d have left overs. So I don’t have to make or bake anything today. I have peach cobbler and the orange olive oil cake to serve.

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