A few weeks ago, I went on a solo trip to St. Louis, Missouri to visit a friend. Our relationship is a little difficult to explain, but here goes. A couple years ago, my son-in-law Reagan, who was adopted, located his birth mother Clarita who lives in St. Louis as do his brother and sister (another sister lives in Chicago.) Last fall, she and her sister-in-law Michele came to Texas for a visit and we had a great time together. Clarita invited me for a visit and off I went.

The two ladies had all kinds of things planned for my visit. First we went to historic Main Steet in St. Charles, MO where there were many shops and restaurants, including Siostra, a Polish pottery store that had everything you could imagine. I bought a cruet for olive oil for my husband. We had lunch outdoors at a barbeque place called Salt + Smoke, where I tried a local favorite, toasted ravioli (which exploded its pimento cheese filling when I took a bite). On other days, we went to Yayas, a European bistro with a delightful menu, and a little Greek place. A visit to the St. Louis Botanical Garden was both a history lesson and a tour of the gorgeous flower beds, with trees in full bloom. We also went to the Butterfly House, a glass-enclosed building with a tropical environment for the 1,000 types of butterflies from many different countries that flew around us. 

Another day took us a short distance to Kimmswick, a historic river town that had many shops in the original buildings of the town. We enjoyed a lazy lunch at The Blue Owl, a wood-paneled down-home eatery that served Levee High Apple Pie, a towering dessert with a domed top crust, and had fun shopping at Mississippi Mud, where we each bought something fun.

Clarita and I had a brief visit with Reagan's sister Susie, her husband Deet and their two young daughters. Michele fixed an elegant dinner and I had a chance to meet John, her husband.  Dessert was a St. Louis tradition, gooey butter cake we purchased from Gooey Louie's. It's sort like a cross between a brownie and a cake, very rich and decadent. I later got to meet her husband John and we enjoyed a long conversation. 

On my final day in St. Louis, we attended a 16th birthday party at the home of Reagan's brother Dan and his partner Monika. The birthday girl was her daughter Sophie. I got to meet her brother Pascal and Dan's daughter Hannah. It was great to put names with the faces Hannah and Reagan had described to me. Then I was off to the airport to fly home. It was a great trip, with lots of time with Clarita and Michele. We vowed to get together again very soon.

Yesterday, I did something I've been waiting to do for two years. You see, last summer I had surgery to re-attach a torn hip muscle. I had to use a walker for six weeks and could only touch my left toes. Not fun at all. I spent most of the summer in a lift chair provided by my daughter. The summer before that, I had urgent surgery to repair hernias on my right side. Another six weeks spent mostly in bed or in the lift chair. Needless to say, I wasn't able to do anything in the yard except to occasionally water my patio plants and perennial garden with the hose. I vowed that this summer would be different. 

Off I went to purchase flowers at Lowes. I bought a couple of flats of flowers and a bag of potting soil but was still missing some other plants I had in mind.  I visited Home Depot where I found sweet potato vine, a plant that will spill prettily over the side of the planter as it grows. Finally, I went to my local nursery where I asked a staff member to suggest a "centerpiece" plant that would be taller than the others. He showed me something called Angelonia, which was new to me. It sports little purple blossoms that look like miniature snapdragons.  Sold.

So now I had yellow zinnias, pink vinca, and coleus in addition to the others I mentioned. In a couple of trips using my garden cart, I moved all my purchases from the car to the backyard. This morning, I smoothed sunscreen over my skin, donned my Phillies bucket hat and put on my new gardening gloves. I got out my little gardening bench which has handy pockets for my tools--this has been great for me, so I don't have to bend over so far. Then I put a set of flowers for the first planter into the cart along with a small bag of potting soil and set off for the pool deck.

After two years, some of the soil had compacted or washed away, so I broke it up, removing any weeds. Then I added enough new soil to come to the top. First came the Angelonia for the center, then two each of the zinnias and vinca and one each of the coleus and sweet potato vine. Another trip to the patio with enough flowers for the other two large planters came next. This time, I broke into the larger bag of potting soil which was just enough to top them off. I moved the finished planters into position next to the pool and moved onto the next job--two smaller pots that would flank the pool deck furniture. This time, I supplemented the soil with some found in another pot.

I watered everything (something I will need to do each and every day in the Texas heat), cleaned up all the plastic pots and returned my gardening bench to a spot near the back door. All that remains is to mulch each planter to help keep moisture in and give them a more finished look, which I might do after it cools off tonight.

Now we have some bright colors to enjoy when we're watching our grandchildren swim. And yes, this makes me as happy as can be. I have a couple of other backyard tasks to complete, but I'll need the help of my eldest grandson for those and be happy to pay him for his trouble. Come on, summer!

For most of my life, a good night's sleep came easily to me. Even when awakened by a crying baby or an unexpected noise, returning to slumber was never a problem. Only when I was truly worried about something, like the serious illness of a family member or a frightening event like the terrorist attacks did I have trouble falling asleep and staying that way. 

Then Covid-19 happened. At the beginning, I had some real anxiety about it. At least in the early going, the possibility of contracting the disease which would eventually take the lives of more than a million Americans was really frightening. My husband Andy had several risk factors and of course, we were both well over 70. Like everyone, we were really strict about exposing ourselves by going to the grocery store or restaurants, as well as wearing masks in public. We stayed home most of the time and for a while, didn't even see our children and grandchildren. I began to have trouble either falling asleep or getting back to sleep if I woke up. Note: After avoiding Covid-19 for more than two years, I got it after attending a wedding in Philadelphia.

I tried a number of strategies, like staying up later than I usually did or taking things like Tylenol PM. Neither was effective. Then I tried a small dose of melatonin. Not only did it not help my insomnia, but I felt slightly buzzed the next day. I've always been a morning person--the most productive time of day for me. Now I felt like taking a nap by 9:30 a.m., which was most uncharacteristic. 

It seemed the only way for me to eventually get back to sleep was to get up and do something else until I felt really sleepy. So, I would get out of bed, put on my robe and slippers and repair to the family room. Usually, I would get a snack, like a yogurt or little bowl of cereal. I found that getting something in my stomach helped me eventually go back to sleep. There was only one problem with this approach: Toby. Our 10-year-old dachshund sleeps on the end of our bed. He is such a mama's boy that when I leave the room, he wakes from a sound slumber and follows me. This does not please him at all, and soon he was whining because he wanted to get back in bed. I found that if I got him up on the couch, he'd curl up in a blanket and snooze. 

I never take my phone or a book with me, just find something I really like on TV for about an hour. I've binged through Nashville a couple times (my favorite TV show ever), all 12 seasons of Call the Midwife, and recently New Amsterdam (about a hospital where things happen that would never occur in a real hospital). Last night, I watched The Four Seasons, a 1981 film with Alan Alda and Carol Burnett that I've always liked. When I feel myself getting drowsy, that's when I head back to bed, dachshund in tow. 

I've since learned that insomnia is fairly common in people over the age of 65. Maybe it's because we don't get enough activity during the day to tire us out or that we just don't need as much sleep as when we were younger. So, I've decided not to fight it. If I haven't drifted off after about 20 minutes, I quietly leave the bedroom with Toby and amuse myself with a low-stress TV show until my eyes are beginning to slam shut. Then I go to sleep quickly and wake up refreshed. Maybe insomnia will go away, maybe not, but at least I know what works for me. 

I should have known better but the list of items I didn't want any more was growing. Every time I looked in a room, on a shelf or in a closet, I found something else to add. There was the 36-bottle wine rack in the garage, the three photo albums I never used, and the assortment of baskets and artificial plants that decorated the tops of our kitchen cabinets. In the guest room closet there was an old but still-functioning printer/scanner. The kid's room had a DVD player (does anyone still use those?) and stored against the wall was the non-smart TV we didn't need after my daughter and her husband gave us a smart TV for Christmas. In our closet was a CPAP machine that my husband only used a couple of times. I had a box of cute dachshund figurines that belonged to my parents, as well as three large guys that were displayed along with aforementioned baskets and plants. Another box held a set of beautiful dishes we bought in Philadelphia's Chinatown years ago with a tea set. The list went on and on. It all had to go. 

Could I have taken all this stuff to the local thrift store? Of course. But no-o-o, I had to have a garage sale. I advertised on Nextdoor and bought signs and price stickers at the Dollar Store. I borrowed three folding tables. Spent an hour pricing everything. On a nice cool Saturday morning I set up the tables just inside the garage, draped them with some old red sheets and artfully arranged everything to appeal to potential buyers. The wine rack was a great place to display pots and artificial plants. Andy visited our bank and got $100 in small bills for making change. I strategically placed four signs around the neighborhood. I was ready to roll.

A few people trickled in but didn't buy anything. One or two cars slowed as they passed but kept going. One even turned around in the driveway and took off. In hour two, a couple women bought some of the pots and dachshunds. Speaking of dachshunds, our Toby was outside with me, but with his retractable lead hooked to the metal frame of the garage. He amused himself by barking at people or winding himself around table legs.

At noon, Andy brought me a turkey sandwich to quell hunger pangs. I consumed it uninterrupted by customers. A couple of Hispanic guys spent the most time perusing the items and commenting in Spanish. They did buy a couple things but were my last customers. Nearly all the items I had carefully arranged were still there. In hour four, when my back was about to give out from sitting in a wooden chair with a pillow, I called it quits. 

Now we couldn't pull the car into the garage because everything was still there. On Monday, I loaded nearly everything into the back of the Murano and headed for the thrift store, which was glad to take everything off my hands. Still trying to sell the wine rack. The Royal Copenhagen dachshunds might go to the consignment shop. And I'm still hoping to find a good home for the Chinese dishes because I just couldn't dump them at the thrift shop. I returned the tables, folded up the sheets and we pulled the car into the garage. 

Final profit? About ten bucks. Lesson learned. 

According to the calendar, spring is here, but signs of the season have been appearing in North Texas for weeks. Most trees have leafed out already and some are blooming. The daffodils in a neighbor's yard are finished for the year. The bluebells - the state flower of Texas - are about to carpet the hillsides. Temperatures have been warm most days with a few very cold nights and lots and lots of rain. 

I've been in the mood to clean out and reorganize. First on my list was the kid's room at our house. I went through all the books, puzzles and toys, pulling out those that Noah has outgrown. He and his friend Theo looked at it all and agreed on what should be given away to younger children. They kept a couple of items but helped me put everything else into bags. Then we set off for The Primrose School, where they both attended Pre-K. As we traveled the few blocks to the school, they reminisced adorably about their time there and what they missed now that they were third-graders (naptime and recess were high on the list). We dropped the bags at the front office and asked if the boys could visit their old teacher, Miss Moss. She shouted with delight when they came in the door, amazed at how big they were.

I moved all the puzzles I'd accumulated during the pandemic into the closet and reorganized the games into the small armoire. Building sets went into the drawers beneath the IKEA trundle bed. Then I realized that we had a lot of stuff that I wanted to get rid of. In the garage, a 36-bottle metal wine rack was first on the list. There was an old printer (still functional) and a DVD player and a 45-inch TV replaced by a larger set. Years ago, we bought a complete set of dishes and a tea set in Philadelphia's Chinatown. While we loved using them when the kids were still at home, it was time for them to go. I had a bunch of dachshund figurines that belonged to my parents and some larger ones I used to display on top of the kitchen cabinets along with some artificial plants and baskets. I found a number of pots I had used for plants, as well. All of these will go on sale next weekend, with any remaining items sent to the thrift store. 

Soon, I will tackle the outdoor spaces. Some of my patio plants were killed off during a frost, so I will replace those, having seen some good deals at a huge new grocery store near here. Next comes the task of filling all the planters around the pool with colorful annuals. First I have to get several bags of potting soil to fill up the containers. Miraculously, most of my perennials made it through the winter and are filling out beautifully. I may have to replace a couple and transplant one or two, but with so much rain, it's been kind of a swamp in the area in front of the brick wall that rings the garden. I'm hoping our lawn service can come up with a drainage solution. 

I'm enjoying the relatively cool weather and looking forward to days when the kids can swim. We got out the pool deck furniture today and hosed off the big umbrella. I've laundered all the beach towels and sorted through the toys, most of which hit the trash. Soon I'll make a trip to St. Louis to visit a friend, so the blahs of winter are officially over. Stay well, my friends!

The Christmas decorations are stowed in the garage, the last decorated cookie has been eaten and the radio stations have stopped playing Christmas music. It's 2023 and I'm suffering from my usual case of the winter blahs. It doesn't feel like winter here in North Texas, with temperatures staying in the 60s and even 70s. We had one cold snap when the temps dipped to 10 or 11, so I brought in my patio plants and my daughter Hannah and I draped a couple old sheets over my perennials. Alas, I think a few of them didn't make it, but I'll trim them back and hope for a miracle.

The trees have lost all their leaves, except for the live oaks common to this area. We haven't received much moisture recently and all the lawns are brown.  All in all, a rather depressing look, but the sun is shining today, so I'll take that. One of my orchids has burst into yellow blooms, which is cheerful. I'll make my usual January trek to purchase some new plants for the entry and my office. 

I got out one of my favorite 1,000-piece puzzles, a cover from The New Yorker magazine published in 1943 and have been working on that while my husband is watching what seem to be endless football games.  The illustration shows a young woman on a bicycle with a Christmas tree astride the bike. She's wearing goggles and a small black dog is running ahead of her. In the background is a country market with a display of apples in front. Two people are chatting near the Christmas tree display. 

I'm still searching for some freelance writing opportunities to relieve the boredom of this time of year and perhaps earn a few bucks. I've continued with the My Life, My Story project of the Veteran's Administration. I interview veterans who have volunteered for the project, learning about their time in the service and life afterward, as well as the care they have received from the VA. It's always very interesting. Then I write their story as if they are telling it themselves and submit. A coordinator from the VA goes over the story with the veteran, making any necessary changes and corrections. It's attached to their medical record so that doctors, nurses and other caregivers can get a better picture of their patient. I've very much enjoyed this project. 

With the holiday school break over, I've resumed getting Noah from the athletic center he goes to after school, giving him a snack and dropping him off at the martial arts class just around the corner where he is learning Taekwondo. He recently earned his green belt, quite an accomplishment for an 8-year-old! He still loves to stay overnight with us and is often dropped at our house for breakfast and school drop-off on days when Mom is headed downtown for work. 

Life is good. I appreciate everything we have, especially the closeness of our daughters and their families. Despite a few healthcare hiccups in the past year, things are now going well for both of us. Happy New Year to all!

​There's not a flake of snow on the ground here in Texas, but the holidays are upon us. Our Christmas tree has been up and decorated since before Thanksgiving so I can enjoy it for a bit longer and my Santa collection is on display in several rooms. Cut-out cookies have been baked in anticipation of a decorating party later this week. The presents have all been wrapped or sent and our family is planning a series of family activities for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. One of the traditions at our house is making and decorating a gingerbread house.

Many years ago, Andy and I spotted a gorgeous homemade gingerbread house on the cover of the Time-Life German Cookbook. We decided to give it a try.  Andy cut the patterns out of cardboard and I gathered the ingredients, which include honey, spices (although no ginger), butter, sugar and lots and lots of baking powder, which helps the dough set up like cement. We baked three recipes of the dough, which gets rolled out in pans before it cools completely--the honey, sugar and butter are brought to a boil and then added to the flour mixture. When the gingerbread has been baked and cooled slightly, we cut out the pieces and transferred them to a rack. The top of a door and a round window are cut out with a knife and backed with aluminum foil. Several recipes of royal icing are made to assemble and decorate the house.

The first year we tried this, we baked a base for the house. It proved somewhat uneven and messy, so we got a piece of plywood and cut it to size instead. We attempted to attach the steep roof pieces with frosting, but they slid right off! Andy, ever the engineer, hit on the idea of using toothpicks to "nail" the pieces together, which worked like a charm. 

Over the years, we have made these houses not only for ourselves, but as auction items and gifts to friends. Now that my grandchildren are older, they help me decorate. I used to use frosted Italian cookies for the roof, but they are hard to find here, so now I use frosted mini-wheats to create a "thatched" roof. The candies change from year to year, depending on what I can find, but usually include gum drops, starlight peppermints and old-fashioned "cut rock." To my mind, there is no such thing as too much candy on a gingerbread house. The best thing is that, properly stored, the houses will last for 4-5 years, even retaining its wonderful smell.

When I look at one of the gingerbread houses, it always brings Scrapple, our first dachshund, to mind. One day  decades ago, I came home to an empty house and heard a scratching sound. I followed it into the dining room and found a furry criminal on the dining room table gnawing a cookie off the roof. Attracted by the smell, he had apparently jumped up onto a chair and then the table. I screamed at him and he took off. Scrapple knew he was in big trouble and hid from me for days! 

I wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!

I do not remember being especially enamored with jigsaw puzzles when I was a kid, except when we were on vacation at Clear Lake. Indiana. Boredom on a rainy day would bring out an especially difficult puzzle that was a black and white replica of an old newspaper page. I don't think we ever quite finished it and there were several missing pieces.

Then the pandemic came along. Being restricted to the house most of the time, I decided to conquer the crushing boredom by ordering a couple puzzles from the Metropolitan Museum of Art. The first, a 500-piece depiction of the all the departments of the museum, wasn't that difficult. But the second one was a monster--a reproduction of Monet's Bridge with Waterlilies. Because the whole darn thing was in shades of green, it took me several months to finish it and then I couldn't locate three of the 1,000 pieces! This didn't discourage me from trying a few others. Woman in Gold by Klimt was a favorite, as was a reproduction of a New Yorker magazine cover of a young woman riding a bicycle down a snowy lane with a Christmas tree on board. My friend Claudia sent me a cute 1,000 piece puzzle with 26 breeds of dogs in alphabetical order. It featured pictures of socks, dog toys, a fire hydrant, a water dish and bones in between the pooches. I couldn't resist buying one with donuts of every flavor at our local hardware and gift store. I only met defeat with a 1,000-piece painting of Disneyworld. It was no trouble putting together the buildings and street filled with people, but the night sky was all very dark shades of navy blue. I resorted to grouping pieces with the same shape on several paper plates to make it less work, but to no avail.  Couldn't even complete the frame. My grandson Noah has never let me forget that I "gave up" on this puzzle. He loves to help me and is amazingly good at it for an 8-year-old, quickly trying and eliminating pieces as he goes. 

The most recent one, a gift from my daughter, was a beautiful street scene with a cafe, outdoor seating and a few shops, all in Kodachrome shades of turquoise, magenta, blue and purple. It took me only a few days to complete since it was 500 pieces. Now it's time to order a few more to keep me busy in the evenings. My husband is glued to his MLB package of every baseball game in the country, so I tune out the commentators and organ music (except when the Phillies are playing), take a seat at the kitchen table and attack the latest puzzle.  After turning all the pieces over, sometimes I do the frame first--other times assembling the most prominent features. I find it very relaxing and enjoy the strategy and concentration it takes to successfully complete even the largest puzzle. Just save me from deep blue skies.

Although I have learned to expect very hot weather in August, the lingering high-pressure area looming over Texas has brought weeks of temps hovering around or exceeding one hundred degrees. Sigh. It has put me in an ongoing bad mood exacerbated by the fact that our AC has not been working well.

The compressor unit outside our home was replaced last year thanks to our homeowner's warranty, but the attic unit was twenty years old and barely functioning. A call to the warranty folks brought a technician who told us the problem was a dirty filter. OK, then. We quickly replaced the offending item to no effect. Another contractor said the filter had nothing to do with it. When the sun was beating down on the west facing side of the house indoor temps were reaching a very uncomfortable 80 degrees. Another call to HWA resulted in their unwillingness to replace the unit due to the dirty filter. Our friend the local contractor did the work on our dime yesterday, resulting in a much cooler residence and my improved state of mind.

We love having a pool, especially for our three grandkids to enjoy, but it's simply too hot to be outside in the blazing sun. Even if you could stand that, the pool water would feel like soup. I'm watching my carefully planted perennials fry in the Texas heat despite frequent watering. It's been too hot for me to get out there and trim the plants back and remove dead ones. Getting into a hot car is no picnic, either. The other day, I found myself using Covid masks to hold onto the steering wheel.

Now that I've pretty much recovered from my surgery, it's too darn hot to take Toby for a walk. The pavement is much too hot for his little footpads and I can't bear the heat, even after sundown, when it can still be around 95. It's even too hot to grill outside with the sun beating down on the patio. I worry that we will be subjected to this misery for the rest of the summer. A Canadian vacation sounds like a good idea at this point. 

OK, enough bitching about the Texas weather. On the plus side, we've binged through lots of shows on Acorn (our British streaming service), Netflix, Amazon and Hulu. We've figured out ways to prepare dinner without using the oven or grill--our small toaster oven (or eating out) is great for this. Any errands take place as early as possible in the day. Ceiling fans help to keep everyone cool. 

If I can get through the next eight weeks or so without melting or being in a perpetually bad mood, it will be a miracle. Meantime, I will look forward to a milder fall and the prospect of holiday fun. 

I'm only fourteen days away from seeing the surgeon. My hope is that he will let me and the rolling walker go our separate ways. Physical therapy will begin the very next day. Until then, life consists of a series of routines like getting up, showered and dressed. This takes at least three times as long as it used to, but I've mastered an economy of movement that reduces the amount of effort. The rest of the day is punctuated by meals, doing the NYT crossword puzzle, reading and afterschool time with my grandson Noah.

I'm already making a mental list of all the things I look forward to when I can ambulate without the walker, although I may still face some restrictions during physical therapy. 

• I desperately need a perm and haircut. My rapidly greying locks look like they belong on an old hippie, with only the barest hint of curl from a long-ago perm.
• Navigating the grocery store sounds like great fun after only being able to order online. 
• Toby and I will go for short walks along our street. At age nine, he's also had some ambulation issues, but I know he misses having me take him out for a jaunt. (He will not allow anyone else to do this.)
• The detritus around the house doesn't seem to bug anyone but me, however, I need to put things back in order.
• My perennial garden needs attention, like deadheading flowers and pulling a few weeds. Same for my patio plants, a couple of which could benefit from trimming and/or repotting.
• I need to separate my winter clothes and stash them in the closet, while re-organizing my summer togs and maybe purchasing a few new things.
• I've not been allowed to drive, so going places on my own sounds wonderful. I long to do some errands, go to the library and have lunch.
• There's a jewelry exhibit at the Dallas Art Museum that I'm dying to see and maybe have lunch with my daughter. 
• Lastly, I want to resume my Veteran's Administration My Life, My Story interviews. I haven't really felt up to it for the last month, but really enjoyed the interview and writing process.

This experience has been quite an education in what happens when you have a disability, temporary as I hope this will be. We take both our mobility and ability to accomplish the most mundane of tasks for granted, something I will never do again. Stay well, my friends.