The House of Belonging

 Every Sunday I look forward to reading Maria Shriver's Sunday Paper. The purpose of this online newsletter is to " inspire hearts and minds, move humanity forward, live your wildly authentic life." Each week she writes an essay "I've Been Thinking" , which has been difficult for her in recent weeks because of all the heartbreaking events in our world. 

The newsletter also has interviews, book recommendations, recipes, and articles of interest. She always ends her newsletter with a poem. One poem she posted yesterday really resonated with me.

I love the last two lines. " There is no house like the house of belonging." I live in a house of belonging. I ask friends and family to come visit, I host dinners here, and I have surrounded myself with all the things I love. It is a small house, but it suits me just fine, It is my place of adult aloneness. 

I live with a dog and a cat.  I spend a lot of time alone and I find peace in the aloneness. Friends and family are close when I want companionship. I do miss my husband every day. I am blessed that he taught my how to embrace a well-lived life.

This is my house of belonging. I have worked diligently the last seven years to create a house that is surrounded inside and out with all the things I love in life. I definitely belong here.

You can find The Sunday Paper here.

Summer In A Jar: A Post from the Archives

I posted this the first time 9/17/2011. Everett and I loved to preserve our food when we lived at Martin Creek. We didn't do as much canning once we moved to Kellogg.  Like my grandmothers, my aunts, my mother and my sister canning was and is a way of life. I always feel such a sense of accomplishment when I have a counter covered with canned food. Here is my post from 2011:

Summer In a Jar

I remember glass Mason jars, a canner, and the smell of dill at Grandma Woolum's house. Jars full of pickles, relish, and green beans were wrapped carefully in old newspapers and packed in boxes for us to take home. Our family got to enjoy  those canned goods on special occasions. I don't remember learning to can. In my first house I had lots of grapes and bought a book and figured it out. I love to fill shelves with glass jars full of the summer's harvest. I enjoy giving jars of jam or pickles as gifts. On a cold, snowy day in January I love biting into a dill pickle preserved in September.

Today I made my Summer's End Pickle Mix. I just take whatever is ripe and mix it together. This mix today was zucchini, crookneck, green beans, cucumbers, and dill. I bought the peppers, garlic, and onion.

The Food Combinations That Still Satisfy

 In every household families have always had unique combinations of food that are always eaten together. Those food combos often carry on into the next generation. Some of our food combinations were passed down from the generation before. Many were discovered by the menus for hot lunch at school.  I can explain some combinations, but others have just been eaten together for over fifty years.

The standard for many lunch tables is tomato soup with a toasted cheese sandwich. Why? I think it is because they taste good together. In doing a bit of  research I learned it was started after WWII with hot lunch programs at schools.

When I make a BLT, I love a little pile of potato chips on the side. 

When I eat chicken noodle soup, it is always with crackers.

Another combination that originated with the hot lunch program was chili with cinnamon rolls. The savory and sweet combination can't be beat. I always love making this in the fall when the weather cools. Sunnyside School chili and cinnamon rolls were a very popular lunch when I was in grade school. We could smell the rolls baking all the way in the stairs in our classrooms.

When I was a child if we had pork chops, we had applesauce on the side. I still serve pork chops with some type of apple dish. Pork roast always tastes better with applesauce also.

Yes, when we had weiners we often had hot dogs. The more popular combination was weiners and sauerkraut. My husband wasn't crazy about the vinegar in sauerkraut so steamed cabbage worked well also.

One of my all time favorite comfort foods is meatloaf. The best combination with meatloaf is a baked potato and green beans. Now that is a complete, delicious meal.

Whether at Grandma Woolum's or our house at 516 when fried chicken was served there was always mashed potatoes and gravy and a vegetable, usually corn or green beans. Sometimes if there was extra gravy Dad took a slice of bread and poured the extra gravy over it and ate it, He called it Missouri Pudding.

Oh and chocolate makes everything better!

What are your favorite food combinations?

Swiss Steak in August

Today was a scorcher. With the smoke from wildfires, the dry wind, and the temperature over 100 degrees, it was hot. As we end the month of July, it makes me wonder what is up ahead. My cousin and I were swapping comments on Facebook about the heat, and remembering how our family members cooked, baked, and did canning no matter the summer temperature.  Here is a memoir piece from my archives I was reminded of today. Enjoy:

 August humidity hung in the early evening air. The thermometer on the side of Auntie Lila’s house registered ninety. One side of the yard provided some relief. It was shaded by an old striped awning.

“Don’t go into the kitchen unless you want to sweat like a pig,” my cousin John announced to anybody that might have been listening. Uncle Ted didn’t seem to hear him. He was preparing for his nightly ritual of checking for water leaks under the house. “Flashlights aren’t working”, he muttered to my dad. Dad handed him newer Eveready batteries. Uncle Bob appeared with two beers and pulled a can opener from his belt. He opened the cool, sweaty cans and handed my dad one can as he settled into the lawn chair in the shade to enjoy his own.

“ It is August and it is hot, but we always visit Orofino this time of year,” Dad laughed as he took a long swig of beer and wiped sweat from his forehead. August and hot often ended up in the same sentence when Dad retold stories about his visits to Orofino.

My brother was preoccupied with a new collection of bumblebees in an old Tang jar. I stopped my search for new and strange beetles. What was going on in the kitchen?

I couldn’t wait any longer. My curiosity got the best of me. I had to check out the cooking in the kitchen. One of Auntie Lila’s famous dinner specials was Swiss Steak. My dad always said two events defined being in “Goofyville”-his name for Orofino- in August. One was wasting the best cut of steak from the Glenwood Market on Swiss Steak. The other was choosing the hottest day in August to prepare that Swiss Steak. Auntie Lila had accomplished both.

Auntie Lila, Mom, and Aunt Ronnie were standing in the kitchen with sweat pouring off their faces. Mom’s glasses were steamed up as she worked near the stove. Aunt Ronnie’s bangs were damp against her forehead. Auntie Lila‘s sleeveless blouse stuck to her back. They seemed unaware that the kitchen was an inferno.

One was frying steak, another was chopping green peppers, and the third in the assembly line was shucking corn. The mixer was sitting on the counter with the Pyrex bowl full of cake batter. In a loud conversation that kept interrupting itself the three were debated favorite variations of the Swiss Steak recipe. Was it better to use round steak or sirloin? Was it home canned tomatoes or store bought? These questions hung in the heavy air of conversation.

After observing this kitchen ritual I had to ask, “Aren’t you hot?”

Laughter filled the kitchen. “Oh Dear, this is nothing. Wait till we put the applesauce cake in the oven and cook the brown sugar frosting,” Auntie Lila yelled over the sound of the outdated electric fan.
“You’re baking a cake?” I heard my Uncle Bob yell from his lawn chair. Is there anything else that could heat up the kitchen more?”

“Watch it Bob..... or we will make you eat in here,” Aunt Ronnie threatened in a teasing tone. He shook his head laughing as he sipped his can of beer. “The picnic table out here under the awning looks just fine. ”

As my Aunt Ronnie turned on the oven, she took a long drag off her cigarette. My mom filled the pot with water for corn on the cob. I escaped to the cool shade under the awning.

“ Is dinner ready yet?” my dad asked as he drank the last of his Schmidt. “I’d sure like to eat before they deliver the morning paper.”

swiss steak in August

We Are The Silver Lining

 “We are the silver lining in any and every dark cloud we could ever find. There is no need to go looking for the light when you bring it with you.” - Tyler Knott Gregson

As I mentioned in my last post, I have been sheltering at home for a month. I leave the house for essential tasks and to take my dog Riley for runs. During this time it would be natural to focus on the dark clouds surrounding us. Instead I am focusing on the silver linings in those dark clouds. Over and over I have observed people bringing the light with them.

The light came when part of my sister's family showed up the day before Easter in my front yard and read an Easter scripture, sang Easter songs, and brought us cookies. It was hard to stay inside for Easter and be away from family. They provided a silver lining.

The light also came when my sister-in-law decided to take down the curtains in her kitchen and sew masks for family members. My brother provided assistance by doing the ironing. When we had to visit a doctor out of town the mask provided a silver lining.

Light came to our porch in the form of comfort food, homemade dinners, and a poetry book from Silver King School (where my mother taught and I attended first grade). Light came in the mail with encouraging cards from friends. Light came in texts and emails as friends and family checked up on us and providing support.

Silver linings are all over The Silver Valley. One business sets out food for families in need, a restaurant owner makes lunches to deliver to students at home, people are showing support for restaurants by picking up food to go, and customers have brought bouquets to put at the checkout stands to honor the workers at a local grocery store.

There are teddy bears in windows for children to hunt for, teachers driving by students' houses to wave hello and show how they miss them, and a special Friday night parade through town honoring our high school seniors. I love where I live.

It is the worst of times, but I am going to continue to look for the light. 

For Such A Time As This

Such a month.
It has been filled with thinking, journaling, praying, stressing, talking, worrying, and silence.

We have been sheltering in place during the first month of this covid 19 virus. I leave the house to grocery shop, pick up food to go, and take Riley for runs. Everett has only left the house for three medical appointments. We have stopped Sunday Family Dinners, book club, water aerobics, birthday parties, family visits, going out to favorite restaurants, and hanging out with friends.We want to stay safe.

We are blessed. We have a home that is warm and cozy. We have food to keep us sustained for months. We have a dog and three cats that bring comfort every day. We shelter inside well. We have spent hours reading, keeping up with the news, talking, laughing, sneaking in a cocktail, preparing good meals, baking for others, and keeping a weird schedule that works for the two of us. As it warms up we are heading outside to our backyard gardens.

I don't like surprises. I want to know what will be around the corner. I want to be able to count on what is coming next. I can't do that anymore. We don't know what will happen  now. We don't know what is around the corner. I can't control the events around us and that is okay. Right now I am being cautious. I am being safe. Our health is my first concern. I am enjoying our house.
More later. Be safe. Be well.

The Shed Notebook: National Poetry Month: "A Friend Is A Treasure"

Today I want to honor my friends with this poem. I am blessed with old friends, new friends, family that are friends, work friends, and neighbor friends. When I need a friend, someone is always there. 

A Friend is a Treasure

by Jean Kyler McManus

A friend is someone we turn to,
When our spirits need a lift,
A friend is someone we treasure,
For true friendship is a gift.

A friend is someone we laugh with,
Over little personal things,
A friend is someone we're serious with,
In facing whatever life brings.

A friend is someone who fills our lives,
With beauty and joy and grace.
And makes the world that we live in
A better and happier place!

The Shed Notebook: Ten Things That Make Me Feel Happy All The Time

"The true secret of happiness lies in taking a genuine interest 

in all the details of daily life." William Morris

This quote really spoke to me today. When I am feeling down or overwhelmed, it is the details of daily life that fill me with happiness. I am not a fan of expensive jewelery, exotic trips, or fancy cars. I don't know what I would do with a closet full of Jimmy Choos and Gucci bags. I don't even have the closet space. Nope, the things that make me feel happy are the things I surround myself with in my daily life. Here is the list:

1. Everett. My husband takes the details of daily life and makes them special any day of the year.

2. My dogs. My dogs bring me pleasure when they jump up to tell me to get out of bed, when they lay at my feet when I am sad, or when they look at me like I am the most important person in the world.

3. My camera. Recently I reviewed over 20,000 pictures I have taken since I had digital cameras. Now that made me happy. So many images, so many memories.
4. Our cats. Each cat is unique in personality and looks, but they make evenings special at our house.

5. Fresh flowers. There is nothing like a pretty bouquet to add happiness to a day.

6. My gardens.  Seeing roses, sunflowers, marigolds, cosmos, and more come to life in the summer is pure happiness.
7. Books. Whether it is my Bible, a new novel from the library, a cookbook, or a how-to book it is happiness.
8. Friends. Childhood friends or recent friends, they all bring me happiness.

9. Family. Each of them adds to the true secret of happiness.
10. My little house. My little green house with the red trim is my ultimate happy place. I view beautiful sunsets from the front porch. I can sit by a warm fire in the winter. I stand in the kitchen and look out at beautiful gardens three seasons out of the year, and I can provide meals to nourish the souls of family and friends.

Sibling Assignment #201: 717 E. Bridgeport

I gave this writing assignment. “Grandma Woolum's birthday is in early November. Write about good memories with our grandmother.” Brother Bill's is here and sister Carol's is here.

Grandma Woolum lived at 717 E. Bridgeport in Spokane, WA frome before I was born until she died. That house held memories of a fire in the fireplace in summer, the cellar in the basement that smelled like dill, the snowball bush out front that bloomed every spring, the aroma of fried chicken in the kitchen, and the sweet smell of Jergen's hand lotion. Grandma had an apartment upstairs that was rented out often when we were young. I think the picture above it Bill and I upstairs at her renter's apartment. (I learned this picture was not taken upstairs, but I love the picture so I am keeping it in.)When the apartment wasn't rented, we loved to go upstairs and play house or just hang out.

Grandma Woolum was a strong woman that raised her childen almost by herself. She loved to garden, to can, to bake and prepare meals, and shop at The Crescent. She didn't drive, but learned the bus system in Spokane and was able to go to Fairchild, downtown, or Northtown easily.

 Even though Grandma only lived in Spokane, it seemed like a journey for our family.  I loved to review old pictures and remember fun times there. Above I guess I was trying to hide from brother Bill behind the furnace in the dining room.

 One year we celebrated Bill's birthday after Christmas as Grandma's house. I loved the drapes behind us and never knew anyone else that had venetian blinds.

 This is one of my favorite pictures of Grandma Woolum. It shows her row of beautiful roses by the shed and it also shows my sister Carol with Grandma. Grandma loved her children, grandchildren, and other family members so much. She loved it when we came to visit.

This is another favorite picture of mine. Grandma's kitchen was my favorite room in her house. She had African violets blooming on the counter, she had a trash burner that warmed up the kitchen on cold mornings, and she had an old wringer washing machine by the back door. I was too young to remember this picture of myself and my parents, but I love how Dad is helping with the dishes. I don't remember him doing that too often when I was older.

I still drive by 717 E. Bridgeport often when I am in Spokane. The neighborhood looks a bit worn out now. The house has changed in some ways, but it isfull of memories for me. I would love to knock on the door and go inside and visit.

The Shed Notebook: Remembering Mom and The Smallest Things

"Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart."- Winnie the Pooh

My mother died one year ago today. Mom also loved Winnie the Pooh. The quote I found today seems fitting as I reflect on Mom's life a year later.   I learned when Mom was ill and after she died she did the smallest things for others. When I would run into someone at the store, or a friend of hers  would come into the library, or family members would read another card sent in memory of Mom, there were always the smallest things people we remembered. We knew the big things. Her former students shared stories of her creative classroom, her animals in her classroom, her Valentine post office, and reading "Mrs. Piggle Wiggle." Her friends remembered her dedication to her teacher association, PTA, the Library Board, and her friendship. Her family will never forget the meals she prepared, the strong hand to reassure in time of need, her love for television shows and soaps,the vegetables and flowers from the garden, and the fruit cake, popcorn balls, and cookies at Christmas.

 I learned of the little things. She came home and brought a heater up to a cold building when the librarian was selling books at the annual book sale. Her and dad found extra money so a friend could get out of jail and be home for Christmas with his family. There was a story of how she stood in the sweltering sun selling sloppy joes at Frontier Days to support the Silver King School PTA. Mom volunteered at my own Chili Feed in the evening at my school since she couldn't volunteer during the day. She remembered her former students that were staff at Kindred during her last months even though she taught them over fifty years ago. When she was tired, couldn't remember things, hurt all over, and was confused in her last months of life she always thanked the workers, had a smile on her face when people came to visit, and listened to others tell their sad stories. She held my hand while I cried over the death of my dog Annie.
Those smallest things filled up my mother's heart. That is another part of her I love and miss a year later.

The Shed Notebook: Ten Lessons Learned While Recuperating From Knee Surgery

Forty days ago I had knee replacement surgery. My knee was worn out from arthritis and bone spurs around the knee made walking difficult. I did everything my surgeon and physical therapist told me to do, because that is what I thought I should do. I've been told that my recovery has been better than most. I didn't have a lot of swelling, I was able to walk without a walker quickly, and physical therapy was bearable.  This is what I learned:
1. "It is not a sprint, it is a marathon". My wise physical therapist reminded me of this early on. Recovery needs to move slowly.
2. Ice is the magic bullet in recovery. My Polar Ice Therapy Machine has been my best friend.
3. Life goes on if the flowers aren't deadheaded in a timely manner.
4. Sleep heals no matter what time of day or night you get it.
5. Painted toes make the healing happen faster. Go figure!
6. A sweet husband can do laundry.... he can even fold it and put it away!
7. Stay away from knee surgery images on Google.
8. It is important to do daily exercises even if Candy Crush, Words With Friends and Tetris are calling.
9. It is important to keep the DVR full of  shows. I could actually watch and exercise at the same time.
10. The best medicine for recovery has been ice cream. Each time I try a new flavor I feel even better. I don't know if there is medical research to support this, but it is working for me. Best healing flavor? Tillamook Chocolate Peanut Butter! I am sure there are other ailments a variety of ice cream flavors will heal.

The cards, messages, gifts, food, coffee drinks, encouragement, and kind words have helped immensly. Thank you friends and family.

Daily Peace: The Most Beautiful People

" The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Above are a few of those beautiful people in my life.
From top left clockwise: Grandma Woolum with sister Carol, Uncle Bob West and Mom, Dad, Uncle Bob, Aunt Lila, Grandma West, Mom

The Shed Notebook: One Art

Moving from childhood into puberty, then on to adulthood frames a timeline of losses. A loss of a first tooth, a bicycle key, or the first dollar earned. Between the bookends of puberty is the loss of first love, which may seem like the end of the world. Growing older loss may include a favorite sweater, a much needed assignment, a faded photograph. Pets fill in painful spaces of loss. In this timeline of loss there are people. Young children, a childhood friend, an elderly family friend, grandma, then parents. 

Until my mother died, I read this poem with a whole different meaning. For me, the art of losing is very hard to master.

One Art

BY ELIZABETH BISHOP

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;

so many things seem filled with the intent

to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:

places, and names, and where it was you meant

to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or

next-to-last, of three loved houses went.

The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,

some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.

I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop, “One Art” from The Complete Poems 1926-1979. Copyright © 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Reprinted with the permission of Farrar, Straus & Giroux, LLC.

Source: The Complete Poems 1926-1979 (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1983)

Sibling Assignment # 186 : Sunday Dinner at 516

Carol gave one of our sibling assignments for the month of February.

“Since we have started doing family dinners, has this created memories of family dinners growing up a 516 West Cameron?  Think of a particular dinner, or kinds of dinners you ate while growing up and share some memories from these family dinners.”  You can find Carol's here and Bill's here.

Mom taught school during the years of my childhood. She was still able to get dinner on the table every night. Every once in a while we got burgers from the S and R or French Dips at the Sunshine Inn.

Sunday was a different story. Most Sundays when Mom had more time, she prepared memorable Sunday dinners. I always loved the Sundays she made homemade bread and rolls. We had the rolls with dinner, the had the bread for toast and sandwiches during the week. On a special Sunday we got cinnamon rolls.  Mom told me once kneading bread on Sunday relaxed her.

The dinners I remember most are navy beans and ham, chili and cinnamon rolls, roast beef dinner with all the trimmings, homemade vegetable soup, and pork roast dinner with all the trimmings. We had traditional comfort food on those Sundays. No “weird shit” food for my dad. It wasn’t a good time for us to ask Mom if we could experiment with a new recipe (that Dad usually didn’t like).

What I remember is how Sunday was a slower pace day, a calmer day at 516. Mom had time to prepare soups and roasts and not be rushed. That was why I liked all those meals . They were filling, filled with flavor, and there always seemed to be more quantity.

I can’t really pick a favorite dish. I did learn from my Mom that cinnamon rolls go well with chili. Vegetables cooked with roast beef are the best way to eat them, especially when there is gravy for the potatoes.  Applesauce always goes with pork roast . I also loved the leftovers. I could always count on another meal made with those roasts or a heated up soup later in the week.

Along with being a calmer day, it was a day my dad was always happy. These meals just lit up his face and he often ate seconds. No peanut butter on white bread after dinner on Sundays. ( He pulled that out on weeknights when Mom made something he didn’t really like.) The picture above is before a dinner in later years, but the table is in the same place and holds the same love for family.

The Shed Notebook: Saying Good-Bye Over and Over

I recently had a birthday and turned sixty-three years old. I don’t dwell much on the age I am as much as I dwell on what aches and pains may continue, blood tests that may show my systems are falling apart, or not having the energy to stay up to read my new favorite book.
What I didn’t expect or even think about as I moved into my early sixties was how many people would die. I understand nobody lives forever, but suddenly I experienced the death of my mother and another close friend shortly after. I have been sending cards, praying, and sharing words of comfort with so many people in my age group who have also lost loved ones recently.
This is what we do at this age. We hold on to memories, wipe away the tears, and say good-bye over and over. Each person I am thinking of lived a full life. We celebrate what a beautiful life the person lived, but then I start noticing a hole. A hole that can’t be filled. A hole filled with memories, but also grief and sadness.
This quote helped me today: “I am always saddened by the death of a good person. It is from this sadness that a feeling of gratitude emerges. I feel honored to have known them and blessed that their passing serves as a reminder to me that my time on this beautiful earth is limited and that I should seize the opportunity I have to forgive, share, explore, and love. I can think of no greater way to honor the deceased than to live this way.” Steve Maraboli

This is What I Know, October 13, 2017

Pictures are worth a thousand words. Some sneak peeks from the reception at Carol's house after Mom's memorial service last week.  Above brother Bill with lifelong friends Roger and Terry. A slideshow is coming.

sister Carol and lifelong friend Kellee

good friends

Class of '72 and friends/spouses with Coach Curry

glorious food

Annie: Good-bye Hello

In the last few weeks our dear, loyal Springer Spaniel Annie has not been herself. The vet ran tests, prescribed meds, and gave us the best diagnosis he could. He felt Annie was in the early stages of liver disease. We had gone through this painful diagnosis with Shelby in the early summer. We were devastated.

We took her home and coddled her, loved on her, and prayed. One day last week she collapsed and couldn't walk. She wouldn't eat and was lethargic. Could this be the end? We carried her in to the vet and he wasn't sure all of it was liver disease. We took her home, changed her diet, and prayed even more.

On Tuesday night we cried and shared memories of Annie thinking she would need to be put to sleep on Wednesday. We didn't want her to suffer. It was a tough decision.

She was not ready to say good-bye. She got up on her own and ate. She came begging for people food in the kitchen. She headed out the doggie door and went outside. Her tail wiggled, she was Annie again.

It may be short-lived, but Hello Annie. What a joy to spend more time with her. Tucker was pleased also.