Yesterday I wrote about managing my time, today we are throwing it all out the window. 

Last night, our neighbor and friend Martin texted us and asked us if we could do him a favor. We are always telling him to ask when he needs help, so we were happy he did. 

He didn’t need anything moved or lifted; he needed us to go to Albany with him at 5 pm to pick up a mattress that he purchased. He was afraid his truck wouldn’t make the ride since it’s acting up. 

Martin’s wife and our friend Eileen passed away suddenly a year ago from a heart attack. That event has changed how I look at everything on my journey. It was beyond a shock; I was texting with her only two hours before. I only knew Eileen for 8 months, but we became fast friends, and we spent almost every Friday and Sunday having dinner with them. 

Our last dinner together was a gift; we almost didn’t go because it was just the beginning of Covid. I said no, then I changed my mind and said to her, “fuck it, we are coming for taco night.” Martin wore gloves, and we sat socially distanced. It was the best decision I could have made because we had a great time together, the last time together. 

We called Martin and told him no problem; we would be happy to help with the mattress. A couple of years ago, I would have said it was too late or whatever dumb ass excuse I would have made. But things are different now; life is short, so live it. 

We decided to have an administrative day at VT Spätzle this morning; tackling banking, paying bills, organizing, and filing paperwork. It felt good to catch up after a month of office work neglect finally. 

I spring cleaned our bathroom, went to the bank and post office, and worked out. I have a little bit of time to relax and sit in the sun before leaving for Albany. 

When we talked to Martin right away, he said he would take us out to dinner after picking up the mattress. He and Marty argued back in forth that we would go out to eat, but he wasn’t paying. It was comical, actually. 

We are taking two vehicles since the van only has two seats. Martin’s son Luke is going to take a ride with us too. We always say we will go to Albany to go out to dinner, but we never do. Now we finally have the perfect excuse to make it happen. 

As it turns out, a wholesale customer called and placed a nice size order literally around the corner from where the mattress is, which is fantastic. If we weren’t going to Albany tonight, we’d be stressing when we would go this week.

Friendship and family mean so much more to me now; everything else can wait. I’ll repeat it; life is short; live it. 

Every week things are slowly opening up again. This spring feels like a complete renewal, especially after the year we have all had.

This morning I saw my mother in person at the care facility she lives at. In a year, I only saw her once during the summer at an outdoor visit. The activities department set up numerous FaceTime visits over the year, and all of her care plan meetings were done over speakerphone. Even after things are back to “normal,” I will continue with the telephone care plan meetings; it’s so much more efficient with no chit-chat. I can also continue to work in the production kitchen during the meeting. Win, win! 

I had my temperature taken and had to answer a few questions, then went through a side door. My mother was waiting for me along with a really nice girl from the activities department. Our visit was limited to only 20 minutes, which honestly was enough time for her and me. We had to stay 6 feet apart. She didn’t have on a mask which was good, so I could figure out what she was saying. She started getting sleepy before the visit was over. 

I went into the visit with zero expectations, a lesson I’ve made myself learn over the last year with everything. In the past, I’ve given a lot of myself to people, only to be disappointed and or hurt.

My mother was the same as a year ago. I stayed positive and cheery, avoiding any drama during the visit. I kept the conversation light and didn’t fall back into any of my past habit traps. It was a God-sent having the activities girl with us the whole time. When the time was up, I was permitted to hug her since she had both of her vaccines. I left her with two boxes of marshmallow peeps, her favorite Easter candy, and took off.

Walking back to my vehicle, I had no emotion one way or another, strangely enough. That was fine with me since I was on my way to belly dance with Kathleen. The gym that we rent our dance space at reopened for live classes today. How wonderful! Our classes will resume on April 28th, the two-week mark after my second vaccine; zoom will continue for students who cannot attend class. Yip!

We have discussed class formats, drop-in pricing, class times, and how to move forward for the last couple of weeks. Our classes will resume with our core students for a while; then, we can figure out down the road when we will reopen our classes to the public—one step at a time. In the meantime, I am excited to go back to teaching & dancing without a mask. I’ve missed my students and dancing with them tremendously.

As things are opening, my once boring-ass long days and nights are becoming jam-packed. Business is busy, and I am back at my Saturday farmers market in Saratoga, NY. I am still trying to work out at least 5 times a week. My workouts feel rushed now because I am squeezing them in. Once I add in Wednesday night dance classes, things will be crazy busy. 

I’ve been super busy before the pandemic juggling my time; adding working out and writing will be new to the mix. I am laughing to myself, thinking about how many hours I was on my phone or watching tv, looking at stupid shit for hours, miserable…waiting and waiting for life to resume. Managing all of my activities plus working, cooking, and cleaning is such a wonderful and beautiful thing! Yay! 💐

This piece basically wrote itself while I was making spatzle batter all morning in the production kitchen. I haven’t told you something about me yet; I am blessed with spiritual and psychic gifts. It’s not something that comes up early on in a relationship, but today is the day for me to tell you a little bit about my gifts.

Twenty-one years ago, on the Wednesday before Easter Sunday, I had a very real, vivid dream, which turned out to be a visit from my grandmother, Nana. This visit is what opened up the veil to the other side for me.

My father, Russ, was diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease or ALS in January that year, and they gave him 3-5 years to live. The decline of my father happened at a startling rate. When he called me on my birthday in February, I knew that it would be the last happy birthday I would ever hear from him again. When I hung up the phone, I laid on my stomach on our bed crying, and at that moment, I felt Sam kick for the first time; I was due at the end of August.

The last time I saw Nana in person was at my wedding. After she passed away, I regretted not spending more time with her that day. She visited me in a dream just before I woke up in the morning. She looked younger, had great color in her cheeks and lips from the pink Revlon lipstick and blush she used to wear.

Everything was done telepathically, I realized later on. I was so surprised to see her; the first thing I did was apologize for not spending more time with her at my wedding. She waved her hand like stop it. Then I told her I was so worried about my pregnancy since I had a miscarriage the year before and my father’s condition.

She told me not to worry about Sam; everything would be fine. The next thing she told me was like a riddle, “I’ll be back for your father when the sun returns to the father.” That is what I remembered her saying. I couldn’t figure it out, but it was such a crystal clear message. Then she leaned close to my face, and I could actually smell her Jean Nate perfume, and I woke up.

I was like, “OMG, what just happened?” I told Marty immediately what happened, and I shared the visit with a couple of friends. We were leaving for NJ the next morning to spend Easter with my parents.

When we arrived in NJ, my dad was relieved that we were there. I got to spend the afternoon with him sitting on their deck. From that point on, things started to tank fast. By Good Friday, he was having problems breathing if he tried to lay down or back.

Holy Saturday was stressful and scary for us. Finally, we called the rescue squad that evening, and they wheeled my father out in a stair chair because he couldn’t lay down. I didn’t know he would never be coming home again.

By the next day, Easter Sunday, we knew he wasn’t going to make it. It was a shock and surreal. After I went to the hospital to say good-bye to my father, I went home with Noah, who was only 4 years old. He was very close to my dad, and he didn’t know what was happening.

Easter night, I bathed Noah and put him to bed. I sat on the couch and jumped up and said, “OMG, it’s Easter! The day the Son returns to the Father!” The day Christ has risen. I immediately knew what Nana’s words meant. We didn’t have cell phones at the time, so I was on my own with this information. I cried and cried. I thanked Nana for the heads up and felt a little better that she would be there waiting for my father.

At 10:01 pm, I said an Our Father and knew my father took his last breath. When Marty and my mother got home about an hour later, I asked them his death time, and they said 10:01 pm. In the morning, I had to tell Noah what happened to Pop-pop; it was beyond heartbreaking, the hardest thing I ever had to tell someone.

My spiritual gifts exploded over the next few days. I could feel my father near. He would tell me things about the people at his wake that I never met before. I knew answers to questions that weren’t even asked yet. My father was telling me jokes, and I would share them with Marty and my mother to make all of us laugh, even though it didn’t seem appropriate.

On the morning of my dad’s funeral, I was standing in the back of the church behind his casket with my family. My knees were knocking and I felt sick to my stomach. I realized I felt the same way when he and I were standing in the back of the church at my wedding before I walked down the aisle. Next, I heard him whisper to me, “It’s showtime.” Those were the same words he said at my wedding. Holy shit!

When I realized all of the new psychic/spiritual gifts I had, I also knew needed to get a handle on them. I started getting messages all the time and not just from my father. I needed a radio control tower for all of them flying in. I started reading up on psychic abilities.

When Sam was two, I joined a meditation group. I also became a reiki master and practiced shamanism. I found out the messages I got were coming from people who recently crossed over or were stuck in the middle world; they didn’t know they were dead. My psychic abilities didn’t include information like lucky lottery numbers, darn it.

I used all of my abilities for good, helping many people move on from the middle world. I did reiki, chakra clearing, and aura balancing. I never charged anyone money for using my gifts, it didn’t feel right, but I did accept an occasional bottle of wine as a barter. It all came naturally to me. I was good at it; I didn’t realize how “powerful” I was until a psychic person came up to me and told me. Geez!

When we started our business four years ago, I had to close the veil to the other side. I was constantly being interrupted by people trying to get their messages through to someone who could hear them. I needed to focus on my business and family. I needed a break.

I still did reiki and other energy work, but nothing with the other side. Earlier this week, I got a message from Mema that I wrote about on Sunday. I’ve been hearing songs on Pandora for the last three days from my friend Eileen who passed away one year ago today. This morning, I dreamt about my father and a recently deceased cousin who passed in December. It was a dream, not a visit, but it made me remember Nana’s visit on the Wednesday before Easter, just like today.

I know that these gifts bless me; however, I am still not ready to get back into moving people from one world to another. I welcome the messages that I am receiving and know that my loved ones are not here in body form, but their energy never leaves us.

A funny thing happened on the way to the…kitchen. Well, not really funny, but funny in my mind. Right after I hit the publish button on my power outage post, I headed into the kitchen when I got a text from our friend Martin, the chef who lives across the street.

“Want to join us for those Chinese stuffed peppers Marty likes?” In a flash, I forgot all about the chicken a l’orange I would attempt to prep for the second time day. “Of course,” I texted back immediately. LOL

Martin has introduced us to so many new dishes over the last year and a half, dishes I’ve seen on restaurant menus for years. I wouldn’t consider myself a picky eater but cautious when I am not sure. Ok, that wrong; I am very frugal when it comes to spending money; I would hate to order something and not like it, or worse, not even eat it.

I wanted to share with you the dish he made last night. We both love Chinese food and miss being able to order anything we want since we went gluten-free 11 years ago. The dish Martin made is a dim sum classic Cantonese Stuffed Peppers.

I’ve gone out for dim sum and don’t recall these peppers. I only recall all the different types of dumplings and steamed pork buns. Dim sum is Cantonese, a way to offer customers many choices to eat on a wheeled cart around the restaurant. You pick what you want and however much you want.

Dim sum started in Asian tea houses offering the guests small bites to have during tea service. Tea is still important at dim sum restaurants flip-flopping the origin.

The Chinese stuffed peppers are peppers stuffed with two different fillings; pork or shrimp. Traditionally it is served with a brown fermented bean sauce or just a soy-based brown sauce.

Martin made pork stuffed peppers with a brown sauce that was so shiny it was like a glaze. The filling tasted like dumpling filling, which we love and miss. Chinese stuffed peppers can be made with various peppers such as a bell, long spicy, or cherry.

Both times we’ve had it, Martin used long banana peppers, which can have a bit of spiciness. Last nights weren’t as spicy as the last time he made them, maybe because the peppers were in season over the summer? 🤔

I looked up a bunch of recipes for the stuffed peppers and planned to make them myself. As usual, all the recipes are different. Usually, we get to watch him prepare dinner for us, but last night the peppers were already in the oven. Martin already prepared the brown sauce for the peppers as well. None of the recipes I found called for the use of an oven since they don’t use ovens in China, but I think that is how I will do mine. Frying in a pan is just an invitation for the filling to fall out.

I am grateful not only for my friendship with Martin, but I’ve learned so much from him. He loves how I watch him and try to figure out what’s coming next and our faces when we try something for the first time.

He prepared the best bite of food of 2019; it was a parsnip puree. Such a simple thing that I never had before; I just assumed it tasted like a carrot. Wow, was I wrong? Parsnip puree is now a staple on the menu of my favorite dishes to make and eat.

Oysters Rockafeller was another dish that I didn’t expect to love so much. Now I really want to learn to make them myself. What’s been holding me back is that I am intimated shucking the oysters. This summer, I will suck it up, get myself the right kind of knife to use, and practice opening them in the outdoor kitchen. I don’t know if I am brave enough to try one raw, but they sound delicious with a mignonette sauce. So maybe…

Now I am off to the kitchen to make my chicken a l’orange, the prepping stage flew by me again today, I guess I just wasn’t meant to prep this dish ahead. I’ll let you know how it turns out. 🤞🏽

I left earlier than usual for belly dance practice this morning. I needed to hit two grocery stores before dance. I’ve been going shopping after dance which doesn’t work because I come out of the gym as hungry as a grizzly bear. Shopping on an empty stomach is never a smart thing for your pocketbook. 

It was super windy driving home; I quickly put the groceries away to make my lunch. It was all I thought about on my ride home. I went to the bathroom before I started lunch, and the power went out. Dammit! 

My husband Marty is an EMT volunteer on our local rescue squad and has scanners and pagers everywhere. One minute after the power went out; a tone went out to the fire department. There was a tree on fire lying on a wire. 

Power goes out like this often, so I knew it wouldn’t be out too long. I still didn’t want to risk opening the refrigerator to get out things for lunch. I nibbled on a couple of things and decided to sit down and write. 

Being on the journey and not the destination, I accepted what the situation was. This is a big change for me. Last year I would have mise en placed my dinner ingredients in the dark. I sat on the couch instead, still hungry, though.

Marty was out, and both of the dogs’ Otto & Klaus, dashed outside through the doggy door as soon as the power went out. It must make them feel safer since they do the same thing during every power outage. I had the couch to myself, and the house was quiet except for the howling wind. 

Now, this is where Marty and I had a difference of options when he came home. I was ok and content with the situation; he said that I was crabby when he came in because I was hungry. 😂 🦀 

The power came back on about 20 minutes later, but it was too late in the day, and I didn’t feel like making what I planned; it would have to wait until tomorrow. Instead, we reheated some leftover pasta fagioli from dinner last night. 

Yes, I probably was a little crabby because I was hungry, but at least I didn’t do anything stupid like cutting my fingers off prepping in the dark. I consider that progress. Now I am off to prep; I am making a more modern version of an old-school food favorite using chicken instead of duck…Chicken a l’Orange.

We’ve been going full steam ahead for the last few weeks with our spätzle business. On Sundays, our scheduled day off, we’ve either had to make product or have tried to get projects done around the house.

Last night before bed, I looked at the forecast and knew how I wanted to spend my day. I figured since it was going to be raw and rainy, I would relax and have a quiet day. 

We made one of our favorite diner breakfasts this morning, corned beef hash, fried eggs, and buttered toast. The most important part of this meal was that it would be leisurely with a hot cup of coffee. 

Our mornings always make me feel like I am on a hamster wheel, starting with an alarm clock yanking me out of sleep. I guzzle a glass of water, pour a cup of coffee that I don’t drink until it’s lukewarm. 

I’m like a pinball bouncing around the house, getting ready for everything needed to be done before we start production. I gobble down either yogurt or a banana with peanut butter while feeding the dogs, emptying the dishwasher, and folding laundry.

After breakfast today, I started to menu plan for the week and make my grocery list for tomorrow. I included Easter into the menu planning, which took up more time than usual. 

My dinner menus for the week: Shrimp with Cornbread Waffle Grits, Mongolian Beef with Rice Noodles, Chicken a l’orange with Wild Rice & Green Beans, and Cheese Pizza with salad on Good Friday. We have always eaten pizza on Good Friday’s since I was a kid. 

For Easter, I decided on Pork Saltimbocca, Spätzle or Fresh Pasta with Asparagus & Frizzled Proscuitto, Lemon Tiramisu for dessert. I would also be making two traditional items, deviled eggs, and pizzagaina. I’ll post about mini pizzagaina next week while I am making it. 

I looked up my recipes and jotted down ingredients I needed, then remembered I had to get out my mini tart pans for the pizzagaina, which by the way, is an Italian Easter savory pie. 

I knew exactly where they would be and discovered only one of them; the others were missing. I immediately slipped into WTF mode and started looking everywhere. I used them the last time on Thanksgiving a couple of years ago but always put them back in my baking drawer. 

I gave up looking in the kitchen and went downstairs to the basement. By now, I was swearing up a storm and getting so aggravated with myself. I looked in this old metal kitchen pantry, the only other place I thought they could be. I asked St. Anthony to help me find them when I looked in the copy cat red apple cookie jar that belonged to my Mema. 

I have one cookie jar on the top shelf in my kitchen, but Mema’s sister, Aunt Bertha, gave me hers as well. I took it in case the other one ever broke. There was some random shit in the cookie jar, including an old case for my contact lenses. Why that was in there, I have no idea. 

At the bottom of the cookie jar was a dollar bill that looked old. It was weird that a dollar would be in there, I looked at it, and the year on the bill was 1935, the year Mema was married. I can assure you I’ve looked in the jar before, especially since I’ve moved with it twice and have carefully wrapped both jars up. 

When I was trying to decide what to make for Easter dinner, I thought of all the Easter dinners we had a Mema’s house when I was little. She always made ham with pineapples and cherries pinned to the outside of the ham with cloves. I decided not to make ham since it would only be Marty, me, and maybe Noah, who isn’t the biggest fan of baked ham. 

Of course, I started to cry because I immediately knew it was her. While it was such a pleasant surprise, it had me balling like a baby; the child in me missed her so much. I spent some time talking to her and thanking her for the special Easter message. My father passed away on Easter Sunday; that holiday is the hardest one for me to celebrate. 

I never did find mini tart shells. I have other ones that I can use if need be. Being open and always acknowledging messages from Heaven is so important. It baffles me how they do it; it must be tough work and a huge payoff when we recognize the messages. Thank you Mema, I love and miss you so much.