Life is Good with Cheese

30-day challenge, a reason to live, a reason to blog.  Thanks to We Work for Cheese for the challenge and the daily assignments.  If I make it, I'll be very, very, surprised.  Now, day One.


Cheese - both wonderful and if you think about it a little disgusting
Cheesers - my favorite pretend swear word
Cheezy - tacky chic

Favorite cheeses - extra sharp cheddar, provolone, baby swiss, spiced havarti, mozzarella, feta, ricotta, smoked anything, parmigiana, edam, colby, muenster, gouda, cottage, tillamook, on and on.

Only one piece of cheese - no such thing.

Melted cheese - awesome.  Melted cheese with a slight crusty edge - heaven on earth.

Don't really want to be a wife of a cheese maker, and a candlestick maker sounds like a bore, but a baker, I would be a wildly happy woman, a very happy fat woman. Pastries - yum.

My daddy's daily breakfast - a chunk of cheese, a chuck of bread, and espresso coffee.

One of the best talents of the earthly creature called the human being is its ability to create, transform, and reconstruct in such variety and infinite artistry is its very sustenance - food.

Blessed are the cheese makers.

God I Love My Family

My mom, that lover of life, who gives her beloved dog away to a man who needed the companionship, and instead got herself a rooster, correction got two roosters.  She coos and strokes them as though they were puppies.

My sister who is downstairs cleaning the floor under the rooster, the one that brought a big bag of baking soda and vinegar, the one who donned her own makeshift hazmat suit, complete with gloves, mask, and wading boots, and keeps saying gross over and over again and finding great humor in it too.

My sister and her young daughter that spent two whole days and nights in airports trying to get to Florida on stand-by, both exhibiting such fortitude and cheerfulness in the face of adversity when the odds were monumentally against them, and finally realizing it to be futile, came home to only try again two days later and getting through.

My brother whose car was stolen and four weeks later his new car was stolen. The one that continues to try and works harder and harder than any man I know. The one that gets slapped down but always rises like a phoenix and starts again.

My sister that can find so many paths and alternatives. The one that is a secretary, a facilitator, a coach, a therapist, a caretaker, and working mother. The one that can patch and keep her family's life together with invisible duck tape. The one that can juggle so many balls that it amazes me that she hasn't gone nuts.

No matter what life throws at them, they never take it personally. Life is what it is. No reason to get too worked up over it. They live life with grace, humor, and an inner strength that I truly admire. They taught me so many lessons on how to live my life and I love them for it.

Short-Timers Advice - Time Won't Wait.

Time can not be wasted at this point.  It is running short.

To recognize this fact is to see all things anew.

I am surrounded by folks whose time is running short, my parents, my husband's parents. When I worked at the bank it was located near two senior citizen high rises. I met a lot people whose time was short. And they always had the same advice. And they gave it with a sense of urgency.

That's why I listened.

They will tell you the truth about time. Time should not be confused with the past or the future. Time deals strictly on a now basis. They will make you realize that time is urgent.

For some the urgency drives them crazy because they can no longer control what happens in time. They can't ignore it anymore. It becomes the elephant in the room.

Sickness and infirmity keeps them from spending time well. Time is fleeting and they don't have the strength left to capture it again. It becomes lost. And they want it back so badly. Some desperately. They want time back to show how much they appreciate it now.

For some, they look to others to give them or help them fill time. Sometimes, no one is willing to give their time. No one visits. No one is compelled. There are no hobbies or interests to create time. Time was not used wisely. Time was not honored for its potential to give and enrich. You did not take the time, so why should time or anyone else do it now.

For others, family and friends help to fill the time. Gifts of time are presented and offered with love and joy. Time was used more wisely, and is much more hospitable as it marches along. Time does not scare them as much. They resign themselves and step in line and march along with time, sometimes hand in hand.

Time is not to be wasted. That is their message.

Time should not be taken for granted. She'll bitch slap you when finally after years, you take notice of her. Time can also be very cruel. That is also part of the short-timers message.

It is an abstract idea at first - what time is exactly. Many look for a concrete example to understand it better. So people measure it. They put in on a scale. As long as the scale says lots of time, they ignore it. Time seems plentiful. There is no urgency. Time can wait.

The mistake is reading the measurement of time in this way. When time is at its most abundant is exactly when time is the most useful, the most generous, and most efficiently used. It's heavy weight signals you to use it to its fullest measure, not save it. Time is vibrant, healthy, and has great legs.   Use them. Use them now.

That is their message. And the short-timers always add urgently...    Please.  I beg you.  Don't wait. Take time now.

(Spending the weekend along the shore of Lake Michigan, a weekend I had promised to my 80 year old parents, a place they love but without the means to get there.  I had to take them, and take them now. There is no time to lose.  .... To report, we had a lovely time.  It was time very well spent.)

Handyman Love

What is it about a handyman husband that can fix all your stuff when it breaks down? Why do I find that so sexy?

It must be a throw back to when females chose their mates by their ability to provide, to hunt down the wooly mammoth and consistently put meat on the table.

He has skills.  

A man that can fix things.  

Successfully.  

Be still my heart.

Replacing things are costly. When he fixes the lawn mower, the toaster, my micro tape recorder, the washer, my hot rollers, the car, the plumbing, and my sewing machine, he saves us hundreds upon hundreds of dollars. Yeah, baby!

It's such a gift when something you think is dead and gone is suddenly restored and handed back with pride and love. When he says,"Let me see what I can do about that." My heart beats a little faster.

That's damn sexy.

My Eighty-Year-Old Heros

My mom and dad are 80 and 82. They still drive. They can still think.  

They are a marvel.  My parents are super-heroes.

Daddy is much thinner than he has ever been. He is underweight.

What I did not expect was to have him pick up a plastic bin filled with cookware, weighing at least forty pounds, and haul it into the house like it was nothing. I barely could get the thing up the porch steps, my elbows about to pop apart at any moment.

Mami is hurting more, more than she has ever been. I expected that, with her asthma, COPD, arthritis, and leg pains.

What I did not expect was her running house to house on Halloween with a blond Marilyn Monroe wig on, begging for candy. Okay... maybe I wasn't expecting it, but am I surprised? Not at all.

My Little Sister was the closest relative, living only two doors down from my parents. She has since moved away (I'm thinking running away), and it has been left up to me to be their "go-to" gal.  At first I was wary. Mami can demand a lot of attention. Papi usually doesn't speak at all (especially when Mami is around.)

But as I spend more time with them, I find that I really enjoy their company. There is a camaraderie. I make sure I take time to engage Papi in conversation, not letting Mami cut him off or take over the topic. Soon we are all conversing about world affairs, local news, their childhood memories, grandchildren and much more.

My parents are sentient, they're smart, they're passionate. Their life has been a hard one. They have lived all of their 80 years living way below the poverty line. They showed me that worrying does you no good. That money and  living can be difficult, but manageable even with five kids, a dog, and a parakeet.

They showed us that even without money, one can live a full and rich life, filled with love, without fear, without regret.

I look at them. I feel that there is decades in them yet.  But I know that life has a way of hitting you with the unexpected. My sisters and brother and I are so lucky to have them still.


Update: Six years later, my dear Papi passed away at the age of 88. I am a grateful to be his daughter.

What Am I Waiting For? - Spin Cycle

Waiting is a perpetual state with me. I'm waiting for the right answer to hit me or for the right moment or waiting for a sign. I'm waiting to become successful. I'm waiting for the indecision to leave me. I'm waiting for my gut to tell me, because damn it after decades of waiting, I've found that my past gut decisions have served me well. I'm just willing to wait.

Funny thing about waiting, it's an action word.   If I'm waiting, I'm actually doing something, right?

I used to feel guilty about it, as though waiting was akin to laziness. But things have happened in my life that has shown me that waiting was the right decision after all.


Is waiting, wisdom in patience?  Or is it the refuge of the indecisive?

Waiting is tolerable when it's my decision. But when it's out of my control and a required state of mind, it can be excruciating. Like the time I was sitting in a hospital waiting room with my mother and father waiting for the news on whether my brother was going to live or die. The rush of relief when the waiting was over is not one I will ever forget.

But as I get older, waiting becomes less and less appealing. Time is marching on. It used to be small thing, but my, how it has grown. It's legs have gotten strong and it's about to surpass me at a rapid pace. I hear the steps coming behind me in the distance. So I have got to pick up my pace. No more waiting.

Because I certainly don't want to have to beg as it tries to pass, "Wait!  I'm not fast enough!  Please wait!


Wait no more Spinners. Head over to Sprite's Keeper with Jen, your host of the Spin Cycle.

Reunited and It Feels So Good

OMG, Jen has brought back the Spin Cycle!  What could she be thinking? As an experienced "mother," I know that Sprite will become increasingly more involved in projects, parties, school functions,and major events that Jen, as the facilitator majordomo, just might need to put Spin Cycle on hiatus once more.  So I'm taking advantage of it now while the going is good.  Thanks, Jen. You're a peach.

This week's topic is Reunions.

Although I have over 45 first cousins, and who knows how many second cousins, a reunion of this magnitude will most likely, never occur.

I went to my one and only high school reunion at the five year mark, a picnic, cheap and easy. I know its a cliche, but the ugliest girl was a stunning, desirable beauty and the drop dead gorgeous and most desirable jock was unrecognizable with a paunch and hair line that resembled Friar Tuck. We grabbed the yearbook to figure out who this guy was.  After the initial shock, I felt a little guilty, which usually means I feel the need to go to confession, because I felt pleased at his demise. Wicked girl.

My five year high school reunion lesson - justice. To me this was a high water mark. No need to go to another.

My reunions are daily.  Every meeting is a reunion. I can't stand going too long without hugging a person I love.

There are those that I miss so much right now.  I've gone a whole month without hugging my son. When it hits two months, I barely can stand it. I've gone a whole three months without hugging my little sister.  I've gone a whole six months without hugging some of my "extended" children, not really mine, but they feel like mine. I miss them. I hope to fill these holes in my soul, soon.

Every day, I reunite with my mom who is eighty years old. For her, waking up every morning is a reunion with the sun, life, family and God.

I envy young parents. Because every evening, you still get to experience the reunion of your very own family together under one roof.  Rejoice. This is the most precious reunion you can ever experience.  Don't take it for granted.



And don't take for granted this reunion with the Spin Cycle. Off you go and don't forget to come back, because I need the hugs.