February: Where Do I Go From Here?

In my last post (last OCTOBER, for cryin' out loud), I noted that I was moving in with mother for 6 weeks. It has become a permanent move. After 3 weeks, I knew that mother really couldn't live alone any more.

I found a wonderful housekeeper that comes every other week. (Bliss).

October 12th, (2 weeks after I had replaced all 4 tires, dammit), on my drive to University, a man ignored a red light at the intersection of state highway 19 and US HWY 81 and removed the front end of my 4 year old Nissan Versa. My car was totaled.

 I broke a fingernail on my left little finger. I got 9K for the remains. I traded in my dad's pickup (9K), added 4K from the insurance settlement, and bought a Honda Civic Hybrid. 0.5% financing!

I was assaulted at school for the second time in two years. A couple of girls thought it would be funny to spike my tea with hand sanitizer. One girl withdrew from school. The other spent 3 days in in-school suspension. I was not happy with the administrative response.

I'm leaving public education. I'm vested in my retirement. Actually, I go to the state department of education next Friday to do the paperwork. I've started bringing things from classroom to my office at university or to the storage shed. My co-teacher is leaving, too. The admin will have to completely replace the freshman science department. We have already purged the first semester intellectual property that we have compiled for the last 10 years. By the end of the year, I want to drop off my keys and walk away.

I need to renew my passport, because I am going to spend the remaining monies from the car accident and go to South Africa for 2 weeks.

I will assist in a week-long summer camp on food science on my return, teach the chemistry and physics section for the remainder of the summer term, and add an interdisciplinary lab to a daytime class on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

On the bright side, my grandson is terrific (with a porcelein skin that girls would rip out their eyes for)

and my granddaughter (professional photo) is pulling up and is pretty terrific, too.

But it is possible that I am biased.


 

 

 

October??? When did THAT happen??

Where did September go? For that matter, where did August go?

Work has been hectic, to say the least. My co-teacher had surgery just before school started, so for 4 weeks I have been writing lessons, grading and recording grades for over 300 students, writing the modifications for IEP students, writing modified tests and grading rubrics, implementing Common Core, altering lessons from a 80 minute format to a 50 minute format, and translating everything into Ukranian.

This past weekend was the first time I had not gone to my building on both Saturday and Sunday.

I had a pedicure and a manicure.

Then I cleared closets. I will be moving into my 90 year-old Mom's house, so the back bedroom closet had to be cleared of Christmas decorations.  I had to clear the hall closets to moved the stuff out of the bedroom closet (vicious cycle).

I found a letter from my dad to his mon written in 1942, when he enlisted in the Navy and applied to flight school. I found his commission papers from 1947. I found a panoramic photo of his basic training group--all those young men in their white dress sailor uniforms with rifles.

Boy, I'm tired.

Not-So-Dirty Laundry

I am not airing my dirty laundry for all the world to see.

However, I did make laundry detergent this morning, and--given the price increase of just about everything under the sun due to the current drought--I thought I would share the info for anyone who wants to save a bit of money.

Needed materials:

Kitchen scale
Measuring cup
Sifter
Rotary cheese grater*

* A rotary cheese grater--just like the one your granny had.  A regular cheese grater will work if you don't have the rotary type. Or if you have one, use a food processor.  I don't own a food processor.

Ingredients:

2 cups of Borax
2 cups of Washing Soda**

5 ounces of good quality soap***

** Washing Soda (sodium carbonate) is not the same thing as Baking Soda (sodium bicarbonate). Washing soda is found in the laundry aisle of the market, and can be used as a cleanser in kitchens and bathrooms. It is nonsudsing, so it rinses easily.

*** Castile Soap is gentle, and good for sensitive skin (babies) or for those with allergies.
And mea culpa, when I go to Tuesday Morning, I buy soaps; I usually use them as sachets in my linens or undergarment drawers.  Today, I used a combination of Castile and the Italian-made violet scented bar. I have also used the French milled Lavender (upper right) and the Italian Pear-Apple (lower left).  I've also used Ivory soap. (Has anyone ever microwaved a portion of a bar? That's another blog).

Putting It Together:

Grate 5 ounces of your chosen soap. To make a finer product, sift the grated soap through the sifter. Large, ungrated fragments should be dumped in a bowl. (If you use a food processor, you may not have the larger fragments. I wouldn't know).

In a large container (I use a lock-top plastic container), mix your 2 cups of washing soda, 2 cups of borax, and 5 ounces of grated soap.  If the borax is lumpy, put it through the sifter also. Shake well to combine.

Usage:

1 tablespoon of mix in a top loading washing machine.
1/2 tablespoon for a high efficiency front-loading washing machine.

What To Do With The Bar Soap Fragments:

Well, don't throw them out.  Put the soap scrap fragments in an unbleached muslin bag, and use it as a scrubby in the shower. Or use an old washcloth: stitch it up on 3 sides, fill it with soap scraps, seal it with Velcro, and Voila!

Waste nought, want nought, as the saying goes.

This, That, and Other Things

I have beautiful grandchildren.

This is a shot from my mom's 90th birthday.

Mother is doing really well.  She can maneuver that wheelchair like a pro. We went to OKC for her eye appointment, and brilliant SIL met us there and told me to go amuse myself; after the appt. she would take Mother to Dillards.

I went to Cao Nguyen supermarket, spent an hour at Sabi's with M. A., swung by Whole Foods, and got lost in Nichol's Hills. Met up with Mother and SIL at the house, where we discovered that the house is NOT wheelchair friendly. Picture SIL, Mother and Me in a chorus line to get her into the bathroom!

Went on an 8 mile run yesterday. Came up with a project idea. Went to Hobby Lobby (did need a frame for a watercolor I got in Ireland) and got some "crafty" things.  On my 10 mile run this morning, I kept stopping to pick up stuff for craft project:  pine cones, pine needles, oak galls, and spotted stuff to get later (sycamore seed balls).

I'm going to try and make a fairy house.  I have the roof done (mostly). I went out under the live oak and started picking up acorn caps to use as cobbles (maybe).  I'll post a picture when it is done. Just bear in mind that I am the most staggeringly NONartistic person on the face of the planet.

Since it is tomato season, here is a recipe from Edith Metcalfe de Plata:

"Flores" de Jitomates Rellanos  (Stuffed Tomato "Flowers")

serves 4 to 6

6 medium or 4 large tomatoes
6 lettuce leaves
1/2 cup sour cream
1/4 cup each grated zucchini, chopped almonds, grated carrots, sliced cucumber, raisins, chopped Ortega chili, celery, diced onion
1/2 tsp each of sea salt, aniseed, dill seed, parsley, thyme, mace, and chili powder
1 small jar sliced pimento

1. Wash and cut out the centers of the tomatoes. Slice downward--almost to the bottom--so that the tomatoes will open yet remain held together at the bottom. Make 4 to 6 cuts and lay the tomatoes on a bed of lettuce leaves.

2. Make a filling with the remaining ingredients (except pimento) and use it to stuff the tomatoes.

3. Garnish with pimento strips and refrigerate until time to serve.

Thank Don Julio 1942

The past 2 weeks have been a tiddly bit busy.

Mother's 90th birthday was May 31. Everyone was coming in for a bit of a celebration. And I mean Everyone. My brother and my brilliant sister-in-law, their daughter with her significant other, and their son with his significant other; my son, daughter-in-law, 5 year old grandson, and 2 month old granddaughter; my older sister from Utah; and my little sister from Arizona.

Not a single hotel room in town was available. All the B & B's were booked. My roomie's daughter from Florida showed up (marital issues). My sisters haven't spoken to each other in 15 years.

Okay. Older sister from Utah and my son and family would stay at Mother's. Roomie and daughter get the garage apartment next door. Little sister would stay at my house. Brother and family drive in from their home. All set.

May 29th: Mother takes her oldest queen to the vet to be euthanized. At a stop sign, she begins to cry and pulls out in front of a commercial truck. She totals her hybrid Honda Civic. Both air bags deploy. She says she's all right. I take the cat to the vet. I take Mom to Urgent Med; the power is out, so we go home for an hour and go back to UM. Good news: ankle xray looks clear. Bad news: The wrist is fractured (radius, not ulna). Older sister's plane is due at 5 p.m. Then 6 p.m. I get Mom Chinese take-out. Then 8 p.m. Finally she arrives at 9 p.m. Roomie's daughter's flight also delayed (different airport) because of tropical storm.

Roomie brings Mom a walker from work. She does OK. We get older sis a rental car. Next day,we get Mom a quad cane.  She does well with that Thursday and Friday. Little sister's flight gets in Friday (early), but she rents car and drives down from OK City. Make doctors' appointment with Mom's primary care doc on Tuesday, orthopaedic specialist on Wednesday.

Little sis and I get pedicures Saturday morning .Roomie brings in dehydrated kitty that had been trapped on roof across the alley. (I must have "sucker" tattooed on my forehead).  Everyone begins arriving about 2 in the afternoon. Brother brings the Don Julio 1942. (This is very important. Any bottle of tequila that costs $200 is important). As long as I can get tequila into little sis, no fireworks. Photographer comes. Dinner reservations at 6. Stupidly hilarious dice game around the table at home with marvelous Italian creme cake (courtesy of brilliant sister-in-law) and MORE Don Julio keeps things rocking. I win $60.00 at silly card game.

Sunday is laid back. Everyone from OKC drives back down. More silly dice game. Dancing. Pizza. Dancing. Son and family head back to Tulsa.Brother and family return to OKC (taking the tequila, dammit). Little sis leaves Monday for Phoenix. Take Mom to PC doc Tuesday, get her home in time to take older sis to airport for flight to Salt Lake City.

Mom is happy that no major confrontations occurred. We go Wednesday to ortho. New ankle xray shows fractures of the fibula and tibia--she's been hobbling around on a broken ankle for a week.
Doc orders a knee scooter--she couldn't manage that so I went and got a transfer wheelchair (and it was cheaper to buy it than to rent it). Roomie called the man that makes wheelchair ramps, and he came and measured for 3 ramps. (Built 2 of them that night, too). Bought a bedside commode. Bought a transfer shower chair. Moved in with Mom for the next 6 weeks.

We are doing OK. Home Health Care preliminary interview was yesterday; rehab services start Monday. I'll be getting a laptop so that I can work more easily here at Mom's. She loves the iPad (Mah Jong app and books).

Oh. I got a call from University; more students enrolled, so I will be teaching this summer after all.

AlmaMia Cienfuegos: A Story of Blood, Scars and Nightmares

In every culture are the cautionary tales, the stories of the trials besetting those individuals who succumb to the base emotions that plaque mankind. In Magaly Guerrero's AlmaMia Cienfuegos: A Story of Blood, Scars and Nightmares, we are introduced to the Cienfuegos family, under whose fractured veneer of civility and familial bonds lies a seething, roiling mass of conflict, abuse, jealousy, rage, and denial. At the center of the maelstrom is nine year old AlmaMia and a talisman bracelet. Made of silver and handed down through the family, the frog, the skull, and the book-shaped infuser filled with rosemary serve as a protection amulet for little AlmaMia.

Most cautionary tales provide the motivation for the characters' behavior. Ms. Guerrero, however, wisely leaves motivation to the imagination of her reader. Having read AlmaMia three times now, I still surmise, I still speculate as to the driving forces that compel Mamabuela, Vanesa, Soledad, and AlmaMia to act and react as they do. Tantalizing hints fall effortlessly into the prose and I so look forward to the next tale. The Kindle edition is available at Amazon.com.

Keep a sprig of rosemary near to hand when reading the story. Slip it into your pillowcase at night. In folklore, rosemary is powerful protection. Bear in mind, though, that rosemary not only protects, it remembers. And so does AlmaMia.

Killer Clutter

Why is it easier to get rid of someone else's stuff, and so difficult to get rid of your own?



Being asked to contribute to this series caused a number of reactions.
I was flattered.
I was nervous--I'm not an experienced blogger.
I'm not even sure how to get this over to The Domestic Pagan blog.

Crap, how do I begin?

Begin by answering the question:

Why is it easier to get rid of someone else's stuff, and so difficult to get rid of your own?

The answer lies in the word "own". 

I  have nothing vested in your stuff. It holds no memories for me. I don't "own" your stuff, therefore I have no difficulty pitching out your stuff. However, I own my Stuff. I'm vested in it. My Stuff is tangible proof that I was here--or there--or somewhere. My Stuff is the Stuff of Memories, the Stuff of Dreams, the Stuff of Nightmares, and the Stuff of Fear.

Like packrats and magpies, we stuff our nests with baubles, bangles, and blings. Like dragons, we guard our hoards. We justify our collections hoards by saying "I can use this in...", or "but I might need this...", or "someday, I'll..." or "if I just lose 5 (10, 15, 20) pounds I can wear...".

The Stuff takes control. The Stuff wears you down.  The Stuff not only traps energy, it saps energy from you. (Are you tired? Depressed? Do you have to hunt for things like your keys, your glasses, your coffee cup?)

Is it conceivable that the clutter is a reflection of your mind? Your inner turmoil? Does clutter get in the way of your life, your choices, your family, your craft?

Yes.

I got tired of being ruled by the clutter.

Something magical happened.

I found a book: Magical Housekeeping by Tess Whitehurst. I bought the kindle edition. I found her clutter-clearing ritual on page ten. It worked so well that I bought a paperback edition, too. I told a friend about it--I referred to it as "a positive affirmation technique"--when she complained about her struggle with the mess in her home office. She called me 3 days later absolutely aux ange about it.¹


Tess Whitehurst's Clutter Clearing Jumpstart Ritual

Decide where you will begin. A room is too much? Start with a drawer, or the closet, or your desk. Take the step with which you are comfortable .

You will need:  

            noisemaker (bell, rattles, drum, clapping hands, whatever)

            1 white candle

            lighter or matches

            your favorite hot, energizing  beverage (coffee, tea, hot Dr. Pepper with orange slices)

"Once you've decided on this starter area, clap your hands very loudly around the inside or outside of the area to loosen and unstick the energy contained within.² Then wash your hands and prepare the beverage. Before lighting the candle, hold it in both hands and focus your attention on it as you say:

            I triumph over clutter in every way.

            I am the master of my domain.

Light the candle and sit in front of it. Hold the beverage in both hands and focus your attention on it as you say:

            I now charge this beverage with the energies

            of purity, lightness, and motivation.

Then fully relax as you enjoy the beverage, knowing that you'll be ready and willing (and maybe even excited) to begin your clutter-clearing project as soon as you've finished the last sip. Let the candle continue to burn as you clear, and don't be surprised if you end up clearing out a bit more than you'd planned. Light the candle each time you clear, repeating the ritual if desired." (Whitehurst, 2010).

I chose to start in my bathroom, a small space. I put the lit candle in the window. I threw out all of the Mary Kay inventory (I stopped using it in the 1990s). Actually, I stopped wearing make-up years ago--why support an industry that manipulates women for profit? I tossed all the old make-up. I tossed the ratty towels and stained, ratty washcloths and the harsh chemical cleansers. The unused curling irons--trash. The foot spa--boxed up and in the storage closet (which needed to be cleaned out, too). I ended up with three lawn bags of junk. And I felt good. I scrubbed with vinegar and water. I steam mopped the floor.

The next day, I repeated the ritual. My target: the infamous walk-in storage closet. I had packing boxes ready and packed up the winter clothes that were 3 sizes too big. The clothes from the garage sale that didn't sell. The boxes of floral components that hadn't seen the light of day in 2 years. Out. Repacked, restacked, organized. The clothes went to the handicapped resale shop. I think the garbage men hate me.

My bedroom. The bookcases. My clothes closet. The kitchen cabinets and pantry. The den. The dining room. The living room. My formerly-Baptist-and-now-Roman-Catholic boarder started in on her bathroom, bedroom, and her sewing room.³  I know the garbage men hate me.

I made them cookies by way of apology.

The candle sits in the dining room. Saturday mornings, instead of running, I dust, sweep, vacuum, and mop before taking my mother to breakfast. I've not lit the candle in months--but it will be lit after school is out. I'm going to get the last bastion of clutter: the desk and file cabinet.

The energy flow around here is incredible.

Walk in beauty.

_____________________________________________________________________________

1. She's not a practitioner of the craft. I am still in the broom closet.

2.   I have these nifty bead and seed rattles, so that's what I used. The sound needs to be clear and loud. Things that have been undisturbed for years have tremendous inertia.

3.  I don't think she knows what hit her; it wasn't intentional. Contagious, perhaps, but not intentional.