I was prepping our dinner tonight when I got a text from Aja, Noah’s girlfriend. She sent a photo, and I was immediately excited about what they were doing.
They were in Noah’s friend Steven’s plane. Steven was the pilot. They were headed to Block Island, then around Manhattan. How exciting!
The two of them went to Connecticut for the weekend so Aja could meet his friends and take her places in his old stomping grounds. Noah lived there and worked for Audi but returned home because he missed Vermont.
It’s good that he did, or he would have never met Aja. They just celebrated their first anniversary. They have done a lot in a year, including a trip to Mexico in September.
I have never seen my son act and look so happy. They moved in together and have a cute little apartment. He’s the cook, and she makes salads. I wonder who cleans the toilet? Lol.
Not only does my son look happy, but he has matured dramatically this past year. He reminds me so much of how Marty was when we were dating, including leaving a bouquet on Aja’s car, like father-like son.
Aja and I are getting to know each other better. I love spending time with her. I am completely myself with her, which is wonderful. She and I share the same birthday, automatically making us birthday twins. š
I asked her if it was okay if I wrote about her, and she said yes, so here we are.
I told Noah how proud of him. I continued by telling him that I am proud that Sam is focusing on his career and accomplishing all the goals he sets for himself; Noah is successful in everything in his life. How lucky am I to have these guys as sons?
Watching my son have a fantastic relationship with an amazing person is lovely. I love seeing him, so excited to share everything with her. Like this weekend trip to visit his friends.
To see how happy he is, smiling his head off in all the photos. This is a smile we never saw before, not even when he was little.
I think we all can agree that as parents, all we want is for our children to be happy, knowing he is; is a homerun.
I look forward to watching their relationship grow and spending more time with them. There isn’t one person who doesn’t tell me they have never seen Noah so happy before.
If someone told me I would write a blog post like this one, I would have said, āGet the hell out of here!ā
The clocks have been turned back, and itās dark before 5 pm. Everyone is complaining about the dark on Facebook. I used to be one of those complainers.
This has been a life-changing year for me. Iāve become a person who is more aware of everything around me and appreciates it.
I look at things with new eyes and perspectives. Thinking I only had 3-5 years to live back in March threw me into a deep depression and gave me a nervous breakdown.
Thank goodness that was not my prognosis with my type of lung disease, but it made me pause, and with that pause, everything changed.
When I was little, I loved all four of the seasons. Of course, summer was my favorite since school was out, and I could stay out until the street lights came on.
Unfortunately, this summer was a holy hell for me health-wise, as I struggled to breathe during the hot, humid summer. I sweated constantly and had zero energy. Having rain every other day didn’t help.
I always looked forward to fall. It meant I could wear the back-to-school clothes without sweating my ass off. I loved jumping in piles of leaves and Halloween as much as I love it today.
We got married in October because itās such a pretty time of the year. Itās not too hot or too cold for a wedding. The weather was perfect and produced colorful outdoor wedding photos.
After we moved to Vermont, I began to dread fall every year because I knew a cold, dark winter was right behind it. When we first moved to VT, we loved the winter because we liked skiing and snow tubing.
After our first winter, the sad truth was even though we lived near three ski mountains, we couldnāt afford to go skiing. We quickly discovered how high the cost of living in Vermont was with low wages.
We lived on rice, oatmeal, and pasta since we had no money, our heating bills were so high, and our place was still cold. Charming but fucking freezing.
Spring was always exciting because things were coming back to life, and summer was approaching. I rejoiced when I could get my bike out again, and my dad started mowing the lawn again.
Here in Vermont, all that changed when we learned about mud and blackfly season. Both were horrible, mainly where we lived up in the mountains. Snow was still on the ground in June.
That brings me to this year. The year that shocked the shit out of me. Perhaps one of the most challenging years for me, maybe the most important one.
I started to notice the things that brought us to Vermont in the first place. I found joy in things and realized VT was a beautiful, quiet place with a simpler lifestyle, which we appreciate.
As I adapted to my new ālifeā with another disease, I found having to slow down due to breathing issues was a welcome change. I used to go like the energizer bunny from when my feet hit the floor until bedtime.
Now, I don’t enjoy rushing around, period. That includes eating, drinking morning tea, shopping, and running errands.
Marty dug out his union suit the other night.
With my blog posts, I can see the changes occurring slowly. Marty has adapted to our new life as empty nesters and my limitations almost gratefully. We work hard, but we aren’t spring chickens anymore.
As the fall weather came this year, I appreciated the crisp, cool days; I could breathe, and the cool temps felt wonderful. I could smell the leaves and watch them turn color, die, and fall.
Was that a pun? I never thought of the word fall as something literal. š¤
After I learned more about the Danish word hygge, which means warm and cozy, I wanted to be warm and cozy and realized I had been living the hygge way for years without knowing it.
For example, when the temperature dropped, I always looked forward to making warm, hearty, comfort food again and stocked up my freezer and pantry for the winter.
I started burning more candles to create a cozy, warm environment. We got our throw blankets and fuzzy slippers out.
In today’s society, when the clocks change, it’s almost like panic hits for people. There is something about the dark that makes people miserable. Of course, seasonal depression is a real thing, but this is about when we turn the clocks back.
People have busy lives and are always out and about with packed schedules. The dark suggests they soon will have to stay indoors and sulk. That was me, folks.
I researched the subject of darkness. I found the farmer’s point of view. Some religious groups consider anything dark as evil. I enjoyed reading about the Celtic perspective and Samhain. I read Wiccans and other subcultures take on the dark season.
I liked the Chinese way of looking at late autumn and winter as the Blue Black time. They say this time of the year is filled with blues, purples, and black. So true. I never thought about that before.
What I got from the research is that they all have a common theme, except for the extreme holy rollers; mind you, they are full of fear and negativity.
Nature dictates the seasons and knows what to do. People for thousands of years have taken nature’s cue. At the end of autumn, when everything dies and rests until spring, they did too.
During the time of rest, people ate hot and hearty meals. Their root cellars and pantries were stuffed with root vegetables and summer veggies that had been canned.
People were careful they would have enough food and not run out. They welcomed the rest and appreciated slowing down. Candles were lit, books were read, and hobbies were enjoyed.
People make New Yearās resolutions in our time, which is the opposite of what they did a hundred years ago. Maybe this is why people fail miserably every year, sometimes in the first week.
Back then, resolutions waited until spring with time to think about what you wanted to strive for, like planning what would go into garden beds or switching crops.
Today, people donāt know how or may not want to slow down and take winter for what it is. A time of rest. It is a time to appreciate this intimate time of the year and snuggle under blankets, read the book you haven’t had time for, try new recipes, or pick up a hobby.
I am now embracing the dark season. I have my cozy space where I write and draw. Itās where I enjoy my tea in the morning. I have soft lighting, along with a throw blanket and comfy pillows. Klaus loves this spot, too; I have to kick him out often.
My space is away from the television, which is always on and is too much for me. I love YouTube, but there is only so much I can take. In the UK, our back room would be called a snug. The word snug is so fitting for my space.
I am planning and looking forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas. My shopping is done, and my menus are planned. I love cooking during the holidays more than the rest of the year.
These trees are similar to the ones I will be using this Christmas.
Our Christmas tree situation is different with the sassy girl Nelly around. Instead of a big live tree, we are trying something new. Small trees I picked out of the garbage. Another person’s trash is another person’s treasure.
We need simple shatterproof ornaments for sure. I decided to make some of my own Christmas ornaments this year. This hasnāt happened since Noah was little.
I saw two simple ornaments at Pottery Barn that I loved but were ridiculously expensive. I thought, shit, I can make them myself. I hope it doesnāt turn out to be another Nailed It episode. š
Disagree with me all you want about embracing the dark and winter. Hell, I would have before this year šÆ percent.
My goal for this blog post was to try to change your perspective so you can enjoy this natural time of the year like our ancestors did. Maybe people could be less damaging by not hating and despising the next five months.
This post was a lengthy one, and I hope some of you can make a change and embrace it. Consider this song’s lyrics as a good thing, not bad.
āHello darkness, my old friend, Iāve come to talk with you again.ā
Yesterday, our front door opened and Sam walked into the house. I asked him what he was doing here.
āI was in Albany.ā I immediately knew he tested to become a certified fight nurse. This test only has a 50% pass rate the first time you take the test.
Since Sam finished his coursework online and in-person classes, he has been studying.
When I say studying, I mean serious studying in all of his free time. Marty and I have no idea where that came from, not us.
When Sam came here in October for the EMS conference he and Marty went to, he brought his flash cards.
It was thick stack of flash cards that he made and laminated. This is how he studies. Marty quizzed him in their spare time.
I am so glad to report he passed his test! Sam will take the certified flight paramedic test in the next week or so.
He wants to take it while everything is fresh in his mind however, he still will be studying until then.
I donāt write about my kids much but when something like this happens, I need to share the news.
A psychic friend told me when the kids were young that Sam will accomplish anything he puts his mind to. My friend was right.
Sam isnāt the type to blow his own horn, like everything in his life he is a very private person.
There are only 5,000 certified flight nurses in the country. Now there are 5001. I think that is a huge accomplishment for a 23-year-old.
To be hired as a certified flight nurse is easier said than done and is no small feat. It is also extremely competitive.
There are many steps to even be considered.
Applications are studied and scrutinized. If you are chosen there is more testing for the agency you are applying to.
Next, you must go before a panel of experienced emergency medicine experts and answer a a battery of questions.
They give the applicant several medical scenarios for them to explain everything that must be done.
Emergency flight work is a serious, adrenaline-pumping, complicated job that takes a certain kind of person.
If you are hired, there is more learning and training that can take months before you are part of a flight crew.
When the fight crew goes on a mission they must get the patient stabilized before take off.
Once the plane or helicopter takes off, that is the flight crewās main focus: safety.
As a mom, it makes me a nervous wreck but this is something Sam has been striving for: for years.
For now, he will remain a nurse in the very busy emergency department at UVM where traumas come through the door constantly.
There are many learning opportunities at UVM. Sam wants to get as much experience and knowledge while he continues his education.
Down the road, when the time is right he will then go through the grueling process of being hired by an agency.
Sam left this morning to go back to Burlington. We may not see him until Christmas so I made sure I got a lot of hugs in. āŗļø
You can see more orbs in the distance. I took screenshots from the video and enlarged the image so you see the orbs better.
In 2006, my gastroenterologist found a large tumor on my right or ascending colon and my appendix. It was scary. When I went to the surgeon, I freaked out; this was a big deal.
Within five days, I found myself in the hospital having surgery to remove the benign tumor. I spent three days in the hospital, making sure the colon reattachment worked.
I can never sleep in the hospital like most people. The night of my surgery, I lay there on my back, listening to the activity at the nurse’s station in our dimly lit room.
My roommate was an elderly woman who barely spoke. The curtain between us was pulled so we couldnāt see each other.
As I lay there, I began seeing a hundred little white circles fluttering fast on our ceiling. It was bizarre; I thought I was seeing things from the meds I was given.
More and more little lights kept showing up on the ceiling. I watched them in awe, thinking, what the fuck is going on?
With that, all the doors to the patient’s rooms automatically slammed shut. I didn’t know there was a code on our floor that made all the doors close.
As I watched the little lights on the ceiling, the woman in the bed next to me said, āThey are coming for him.ā I asked her if she could see the lights, too, and she said yes, she saw them multiple times in the hospital. I thought I was not seeing things.
Suddenly, all the little lights were exiting our room and going down the hallway. I could see them on the hallway ceiling, too. My delayed response was, “They are?” She didn’t answer me; she probably fell asleep after all the excitement.
Half an hour later, the staff members opened everyoneās door. I asked if someone just died when the nurse walked into our room. She hesitated, then replied and said yes. Holy shit! The woman in the next bed was correct.
I lay there for the rest of the night, thinking about what happened. I worried that I saw the little lights like the old woman. I kept wondering why.
It was strange but beautiful knowing all those orbs that filled the hospital rooms came to help or greet the newly deceased person cross over to the other side.
Ever since then, I see orbs in videos that I take or sometimes with my own eyes fluttering around. I find them comforting. They aren’t in a hurry like they were that night in the hospital.
Orbs are the spirits of ancestors, friends, and family members that peacefully crossed over to the other side, but their energy is still all around us. It is a beautiful thing to see and feel.
Believe what I am saying or not. I plan to take more nighttime videos to see if any are still out there.
Iām sure a lot of you know that Halloween is my favorite day of the year. I start thinking about my costume months in advance.
We had a Halloween party at the Arlington Inn & Spa across the street from us. It was great fun and everyone who attended was thrilled Buzz & Tabetha did it again this year.
The best part of the Halloween party was Noah and Aja meeting us there. They were dressed as Rip & Beth from Yellowstone.
My heart skipped a beat when I saw them. My son looked like a handsome cowboy and Aja was stunningly beautiful.
It was a momās dream that they chose to hang out with us. It made my heart so full and happy.
I love getting dressed up as you may already know. My makeup was pretty amazing if I do say so myself.
I went through my costume closet and was able to pick out the perfect vampire costume.
It was a full moon on Saturday. This was a powerful hunter’s moon. It was magnificent! It disturbed many peopleās sleep days before, including me.
No filter on this image. It was beautiful out!
We were up late on Saturday night so we had a slow Sunday morning. We had to work after a yummy breakfast.
We have a big order to fill so we put our heads down Sunday afternoon and cranked out a lot of spƤtzle.
Pumpkin pancakes and bacon.
It was a fun production with great music. The time passed quickly. We got a great start in filling the big order.
Tomorrow is Halloween! I look forward to handing candy out to trick-or-treaters. I put lots of candles on our front porch.
Iāll wear my regular street clothes but will do a simple dialed-back vampire look. I always have to dress up on Halloween day.
You are never too old to dress up or go trick or treating in my opinion.
Happy Halloween!! šš»
***Posted from my iPhone so pardon any grammar mistakes
Itās happened slowly over time, but the pandemic pushed it over the finish line; I am a homebody. I know, I canāt believe it myself.
There is nothing wrong with being a homebody. As much as I like staying home, I still like small, intimate outings with friends and family.
I wrote about hygge a couple of months ago, and since then, itās like Iāve transported myself to a different place.
In case you didnāt read myhygge piece, hereās the word’s definition. It’s pronounced two ways: hoo-ga or hue-ga. That shit below isn’t any help. Lol.
hygĀ·ge /ĖhoĶoÉ”É,ĖhoĶoÉ”É/
noun
A quality of coziness and comfortable conviviality that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being (regarded as a defining characteristic of Danish culture).”why not follow the Danish example and bring more hygge into your daily life?”
This weekend has been a perfect example of being cozy as fuck. Marty is away at an EMS conference with Sam, so Iāve had the weekend with Nelly & Klausie.
I used to be antsy and bored alone, but not anymore. Yes, I miss Marty, but my alone time has been divine.
The cold, rainy, and raw weather provided the backdrop for coziness. I enjoyed the weather from the comforts of our home.
I didnāt set this weekend up, thinking it would be a hygge weekend since Iāve been living this way this fall. It just happens, and I love it.
I cooked and baked some of my favorite foods: cozy af foods. Again, there was no menu planning; I just ate what I felt.
Cozy af foods, aka comfort food, fit the bill this weekend. Each item was made with as much love as when I cook for others.
Delicious food = pleasure for me, even if it is a simple bowl of flagrant steamy rice topped with a pat of butter and a sprinkle of salt.
So what kind of cozy af food did I make? Food that felt like a big fat hug?
Friday afternoon, after Marty and Sam left, I made a pumpkin pie, one of those foods that should be made and eaten more than one day a year.
Friday night, for a late lunch, I made legit fried garlic and rosemary french fries, which are possibly one of my favorite foods that I couldnāt live without. āļø
After reading a blog post that my friend Maria wrote. On Saturday morning, I recreated a dish her mother made for her. I texted her immediately and told her I couldn’t wait to make it.
She was going to make it also, “It’ll be like we are having breakfast together,” she texted back.
I made a warm bowl of milky rice porridge topped with a pat of butter and a generous sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar. It smelled so good.
You want to talk about a big hug; holy shit, it was so good! Iāll be making this again whenever I have some leftover rice.
Come to think of it, I may even make rice just for this porridge. I’ve been on a porridge kick using the word and the dish. It’s a seldom-used word that I happen to think sounds cozy af.
Since it was our 34th wedding anniversary yesterday, I thought about what I would order if we went out to eat; yeah, I know we rarely do, but whatever; I was pretending.
Like when I was a kid and always wanted either Italian or Chinese food for my birthday dinner, I chose Italian food: chicken parm and spaghetti, to be exact.
I get excited whenever I think about chicken parm because itās another food I couldnāt live without. This meal is definitely a hug for me.
Chicken parm is not the act of making chicken and topping it with sauce and cheese; itās the loving process of steps that makes it to die for, a true food of love.
I made a small pot of spaghetti sauce and let it simmer all afternoon, which smelled incredible. That familiar smell waifed through the house and was making my mouth water.
After making the sauce, I set up a dredging station and breaded the thin chicken cutlets I pounded the crap out of. I put them on a rack and stuck them in the fridge until dinner.
This rack trick ensures crispy chicken cutlets since the breading has time to stick to the chicken, and the bottoms donāt get soggy.
After I fed Nelly and Klaus, I turned on some cooking music, poured myself a glass of red wine, and began making dinner. I filled the kitchen with candles, another one of my favorite things.
We live in an 1832 historical home and love lighting the rooms with candles. I imagine what it must have felt like when the house was a servant’s quarters.
I set the kitchen island with a gorgeous placemat and cloth napkin, just like I do at most of our dinners. Just because I was dining alone, why should it be any different?
This is where Marty and I eat all our meals when itās just the two of us. Itās a cozy af place to eat rather than the dining room. Itās like eating at a chefās table, a special place to dine.
I fried the chicken cutlets and made my portion restaurant-style on a professional kitchen firing platter.
When the spaghetti was almost done, I threw the platter into a hot oven and watched it closely.
I no longer drain pasta in the sink since I always finish it in a saucepan. I butt the pasta pot up to the saucepan and transfer the pasta without too much of a mess.
I plated up my meal and sat down to eat. I didnāt feel lonely even though I missed Marty; I felt like I was home, not just a location, but a feeling deep down inside me.
My meal was delicious! This Jersey girl can cook Italian food like nobodyās business. My meal brought me back to one of my childhood birthday dinners at an Italian restaurant.
Sunday morning, Iām sitting on our loveseat in our back room sipping a cup of Earl Gray tea, another one of my favorite things. Those first few sips of warm tea have been sacred to me since I switched from coffee in February.
This spot in our backroom is my favorite place to write, looking out at the mountains with the light snoring from Nelly and Klaus. Talk about the feeling of contentment and coziness! How hygge!
Marty just texted me saying he missed us. I canāt wait until he and Sam get home tonight. I have a cozy af meal in mind to have waiting for them.
My mother, Eileen, passed away two years ago today. All I felt was relief and freedom, and I vowed not to go through this again with her through all bands of time.
The photo I chose came from an article written by Bethany Webster. I wasnāt sure what image I would use for this post, but then I saw this one.
For the last two years, Iāve worked through a lot of emotional shit my mother put me through. I am still working hard at it.
I havenāt been able to forgive the 50 years of constant emotional, psychological, and sometimes physical abuse. This shit has fucked me up big time.
There were too many mean attacks to remember or write about. I learned to always be on guard early because I never knew one would come out of nowhere.
Now that she is gone, I still cannot fathom, as a mother, how she could have behaved toward me the way she did.
When I see nine-year-olds, itās unbelievable how anyone could turn on a child or treat them like Cinderella. How? Where did her anger and punishments come from?
I know my mother was whacked as fuck and conveniently forgot how she really treated me, or so she made it seem. Meryl Streep had nothing on my mother, who could act up a storm.
The photo with the mother holding the umbrella for the little girl struck a nerve. My mother appeared to take care of me, watch out for me, and love me.
However, in the shadows, only close family members knew differently but never came to my rescue or said anything. This I learned from my Godmother before she died; the greatest gift I ever received was finding out it was her and not me.
The photo reminded me of what my mother told me; she always sang āYou Are My Sunshineā when I was little anytime we heard it. I donāt remember that ever happening; I remember things from 3 to 4 years old.
She called me āloveā as an adult, which turned my stomach; she called me āyou stupid son of a bitchā on an almost daily basis growing up. I cringe, still thinking about it.
The photo’s shadows remind me how I never told anyone about my life. My friends knew I couldnāt stand my mother, and I was often sick with ulcerative colitis. That’s all I let on. No one could stand their mother at times; this was different.
I think about why I never spoke with anyone about her. First, I didnāt trust anyone to tell for fear it would worsen things. I had no one to talk to. I still get angry with my father since he never once helped me. Why? I thought I was “daddy’s little girl.”
While cleaning the production kitchen this morning, I spoke to my mother directly. In a nutshell, I told her I wasnāt over the monster she was. I may never be.
I didnāt thank her for the abuse that made me a better, stronger person. A person who never gave her the satisfaction she was always looking for. She would stare at my face to see my reaction. She didnāt deserve it. Call me Poker Face.
I tried as hard as possible to summon a good memory, which there was, but I couldnāt. I canāt smile when I think about her or miss her. Thatās how she left me, raw.
I know itās all me that still tortures myself by her actions, so I try to push anything to do with her out of my head. I’m getting better at it.
I did think of her today because itās the day she died. Thatās it.
Life is back to normal and we have recovered from Covid. Such an annoying nuisance it has turned out to be.
Marty and Sam are heading out tomorrow morning to Syracuse for an EMS conference, something they participated in for the last few years.
Itās me, Nelly and Klaus, this rainy and cold weekend. I have no plans or expectations. No menu of food to make or projects planned.
The house was cleaned and all towels, linens and throw blankets were laundered to get rid of our sick germs. The rest of the laundry is caught up as well; and put away!!
I donāt mind a quiet weekend or celebrating our 34 wedding anniversary on Saturday when Marty gets back. No biggie.
Right now, I am enjoying the sunshine in our back room, my favorite place to hang out. āļø
