Christmas cards, a tradition that is slowly fading away. I've kept all those ever sent to me. It's difficult to throw away a holy card. Some are not holy but funny, with reindeer and Santa or snowy scenes. They come from different countries and from family and friends. I've noticed that I'm set and don't need to buy new boxed sets for a while. After the holidays, I used to scour the shelves for great deals and bought several different types. Now comes that time where I need to physically make myself sit down with the address book and my yearly list that I've kept on Word. It changes every year. I tend to write less on each card rather than more. We used to get updates from family. A sheet of news at times with pictures since we lived far from one another. Now with the internet, we're in touch more often.
That's my question this year. Why have we stopped sending cards? Are they too time-consuming? Have we no time? What has taken up our time? I remember how we placed each card that came by mail on the mantel. We were warmed by the greeting and knew that good wishes went both ways. Is a wish on Facebook the same? I don't think so. Far from it. A pretty picture, a few words and suddenly all have been covered.
And what about stamps? Holiday stamps. Long lines at the post office. How many of us still go to the post office in town? Bills are paid online or on an app. We rarely send cards to anyone. has it become such a chore? Is there a way we can bring it back? the lovely lettering, the hot wax stamp to seal it, the stationary, who remembers getting letters and cards this way. Imagine using a nib and dipping it into ink and writing down your thoughts to another by candlelight. Okay, maybe I've stepped too far back. But let's not lose this. A card can be a special gift. We can learn to be simple and make cookies as a gift for family or a scarf. I was watching a show from Alaska where a family made each other gifts for the holidays. Warm gloves from beaver fur and moose leather. Imagine that. Let's get back to the basics. Send cards for New Year's, for Valentines...start a movement!! It all starts with you.
Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Christmas Tree and Decorations Over the Years
Since my birthday falls 10 days before Christmas Day, I've always had an affinity for the month of December culminating with New Years Eve/Day that ushers in a new beginning. It's a time of recollection, family, traditions, customs and food. Every Christmas is different beginning with my earliest memories that were filmed by my father. I'm sitting under a large real tree that's towering over me in my Grandmother's porch. The porch is not heated but it is enclosed. We lived with my grandmother for 6 years before moving to our house a few blocks away. The tree is decorated and I'm wearing mittens. I reach to touch the ornaments and make them sway. The long rope of tinsel is also fascinating. My cheeks are as red as my snowsuit. My father also shot footage of me walking through the snow in the backyard in my red snowsuit and white boots. There's also a longer movie starring my Mom, my brother and me in the park after a snowstorm. We're taking turns falling over as my Mom scrambles to keep us upright. It always makes me laugh as I twirl and fall on purpose. I'm older but we clearly enjoyed the snow and Christmas.
I remember celebrating and believing in St. Nicholas and not Santa. I remember getting a sled that was propped up in the livingroom. When we were a little older, we'd go to visit St. Nicholas who used to arrive with his angels at St. John's. Somehow we always got exactly what we wished for. We'd go up on stage as He called our name. It was a magical and fun time. And then I remember several of my early birthdays as they were filmed by my father. If were were wearing long sleeves, it was my birthday and when we were tan it was my brother's. The cake in front of us was baked by Grandmother and we usually sat together and blew out the candles, hugged and kissed and ate our pieces of cake. Some of the presents caught on film, we also played with immediately. I put Baby Crawl Along in the rocking chair. The Fisher Price Farm animals were passed around and the barn made a mooing sound when the doors were opened. Another present that brought tears to my eyes as I didn't know how it worked was the doll Velvet. She was a blonde wearing a purple dress. Her hair length could be altered with the knob on her lower back. You'd turn it and it got short or long. Mom had to show me how to do this and I was frustrated.
Over the years we always had a real tree. They were sold in town at the Dairy Queen parking lot. I remember going to buy light one time in either Channel or Rickel's on Rt.22 in Union with my father and they were almost sold out. We never gave gifts to each other for Christmas under the tree. Christmas was a holy holiday. Mom prepared the meatless meal for dinner on Christmas Eve. This was in keeping with traditional Ukrainian Christmas. There were 12 different foods that were served. Usually we almost had 12. When we got older my father insisted on kutya. Mom fried the fish, there were pierogies, borscht along with dough mushroom filled "ears" floating in it. Grandma fried the donuts with a cherry inside each one called pampushky at home and they were nice and warm.
Even when we moved away, we came home for Christmas Eve or Day. We'd help with the tree and the meal. There were no pampushky after Grandma passed but there were cookies, the kind she used to make mostly circles, diamonds, moons and some had holes on top, two cookies tall with marmalade in the middle. And her apple crumb pie or apricot marmalade pie. She was always the expert cook and her Ukrainian dishes were delicious. My mother and I did learn how to make several recipes. I've made studenetz for Christmas day and remember Mom keeping it and the borscht on the porch as the fridge was usually full. The smell of the holidays was always intoxicating. The tree, the baked goods. So inviting and cozy.
Christmas changed after my parents passed. I spend Christmas Day with Johnny's family. We gather together at his sister's house for ham. Christmas Eve is usually spent up the street with just us and his parents and aunt. We exchange presents and watch a movie and have Chinese food. This is far from the traditions I was part of. His parents and sister don't go to church. I remember Christmas Eve Mass at St. John's...it was also called Midnight Mass. We'd line up as a family or sometimes my father and I would be the lone wolves who would venture out so late. Christmas carols would be sung by the choir. There was also a Christmas Concert presented by the school children a week before. It would be frigid and the church would be decorated with Christmas trees, poinsettia's and the creche...the stable where Jesus was born in the town of Bethlehem.
I was fortunate to visit Bethlehem during a trip I signed up for in high school in London. We traveled to Israel and Egypt during the holidays. Bethlehem for Christmas and Cairo for New Year's in 1982. A trip that remains etched in my mind. The landscape and routes taken were unbelievable. We walked where Jesus did in Jerusalem, among the hills of olive trees, the small fishing villages and the town of Bethlehem. We scaled the steps up to Masada and rode on camels near the pyramids of Giza. Truly magical. A Christmas I spent away from family as they celebrated in London.
Now we've downsized. The tree is small but the creche remains large. It was made by John Smishko from Hillside who lived next door to my grandmother. The figurines are from the 50's as well but I've added several different versions that stand amid the large wooden stable. It's truly a lovely gesture that he bestowed for our family. I remember being in his house where I noticed the painting of the Last Supper on his wall. He was a religious man and later a widower as well. They lived in harmony.
That's what Christmas means for me...spreading joy and love and beauty as Jesus did to those that will accept it from us. Every day ought to be lived that way and Christmas is a reminder to carry us through the year. To remain strong in our faith and behold the child that God gave to lead us to life ever after in heaven. No matter where you are, who you're with, please celebrate Christmas within your heart. It's a candle that burns in my heart through all these years and will continue until I can once again share it with family again in heaven. Bless you.
I remember celebrating and believing in St. Nicholas and not Santa. I remember getting a sled that was propped up in the livingroom. When we were a little older, we'd go to visit St. Nicholas who used to arrive with his angels at St. John's. Somehow we always got exactly what we wished for. We'd go up on stage as He called our name. It was a magical and fun time. And then I remember several of my early birthdays as they were filmed by my father. If were were wearing long sleeves, it was my birthday and when we were tan it was my brother's. The cake in front of us was baked by Grandmother and we usually sat together and blew out the candles, hugged and kissed and ate our pieces of cake. Some of the presents caught on film, we also played with immediately. I put Baby Crawl Along in the rocking chair. The Fisher Price Farm animals were passed around and the barn made a mooing sound when the doors were opened. Another present that brought tears to my eyes as I didn't know how it worked was the doll Velvet. She was a blonde wearing a purple dress. Her hair length could be altered with the knob on her lower back. You'd turn it and it got short or long. Mom had to show me how to do this and I was frustrated.
Over the years we always had a real tree. They were sold in town at the Dairy Queen parking lot. I remember going to buy light one time in either Channel or Rickel's on Rt.22 in Union with my father and they were almost sold out. We never gave gifts to each other for Christmas under the tree. Christmas was a holy holiday. Mom prepared the meatless meal for dinner on Christmas Eve. This was in keeping with traditional Ukrainian Christmas. There were 12 different foods that were served. Usually we almost had 12. When we got older my father insisted on kutya. Mom fried the fish, there were pierogies, borscht along with dough mushroom filled "ears" floating in it. Grandma fried the donuts with a cherry inside each one called pampushky at home and they were nice and warm.
Even when we moved away, we came home for Christmas Eve or Day. We'd help with the tree and the meal. There were no pampushky after Grandma passed but there were cookies, the kind she used to make mostly circles, diamonds, moons and some had holes on top, two cookies tall with marmalade in the middle. And her apple crumb pie or apricot marmalade pie. She was always the expert cook and her Ukrainian dishes were delicious. My mother and I did learn how to make several recipes. I've made studenetz for Christmas day and remember Mom keeping it and the borscht on the porch as the fridge was usually full. The smell of the holidays was always intoxicating. The tree, the baked goods. So inviting and cozy.
Christmas changed after my parents passed. I spend Christmas Day with Johnny's family. We gather together at his sister's house for ham. Christmas Eve is usually spent up the street with just us and his parents and aunt. We exchange presents and watch a movie and have Chinese food. This is far from the traditions I was part of. His parents and sister don't go to church. I remember Christmas Eve Mass at St. John's...it was also called Midnight Mass. We'd line up as a family or sometimes my father and I would be the lone wolves who would venture out so late. Christmas carols would be sung by the choir. There was also a Christmas Concert presented by the school children a week before. It would be frigid and the church would be decorated with Christmas trees, poinsettia's and the creche...the stable where Jesus was born in the town of Bethlehem.
I was fortunate to visit Bethlehem during a trip I signed up for in high school in London. We traveled to Israel and Egypt during the holidays. Bethlehem for Christmas and Cairo for New Year's in 1982. A trip that remains etched in my mind. The landscape and routes taken were unbelievable. We walked where Jesus did in Jerusalem, among the hills of olive trees, the small fishing villages and the town of Bethlehem. We scaled the steps up to Masada and rode on camels near the pyramids of Giza. Truly magical. A Christmas I spent away from family as they celebrated in London.
Now we've downsized. The tree is small but the creche remains large. It was made by John Smishko from Hillside who lived next door to my grandmother. The figurines are from the 50's as well but I've added several different versions that stand amid the large wooden stable. It's truly a lovely gesture that he bestowed for our family. I remember being in his house where I noticed the painting of the Last Supper on his wall. He was a religious man and later a widower as well. They lived in harmony.
That's what Christmas means for me...spreading joy and love and beauty as Jesus did to those that will accept it from us. Every day ought to be lived that way and Christmas is a reminder to carry us through the year. To remain strong in our faith and behold the child that God gave to lead us to life ever after in heaven. No matter where you are, who you're with, please celebrate Christmas within your heart. It's a candle that burns in my heart through all these years and will continue until I can once again share it with family again in heaven. Bless you.
Friday, December 1, 2017
Removing My Lipoma
First you need to know what is a lipoma. It's a growing blob of fat cells in the body. It can occur anywhere in the body at any time in life. Some become visible as a bump that you notice when examining your body. It's a bump that grows under the skin. When I say grows, I mean GROWS. My lipoma, when removed measured 6 inches in diameter, the size of a donut. When I finally met with the surgeon who had laproscopically removed my gall bladder to remove my lipoma, he was amazed by the size. He took a picture and sent it to me after he removed it.
I first noticed it, my lipoma, several years ago. It showed up on mammograms as something protruding from the chest wall. No one took any interest in it. Then I felt it protrude above my right breast when I flexed a certain muscle. The protrusion became larger and larger and whenever I had massages in the area I would tell them about the lipoma. I knew what a lipoma was by now and I knew it was getting larger. I knew that it needed to be removed. I was hesitating because it wasn't cancerous. Most aren't, just a glob of fat. Another surgery was imminent. Yet, it wasn't covered as a necessary surgery. Unlike my lumpectomy or gall bladder removal, this surgery was not considered necessary. Argh.
On May 1, 2017, my surgeon marked a purple X as I lay in the hospital talking to the anesthesiologist. I came out of surgery after 2 hours, trembling but glad that the ordeal was over and I was fine. Heavily bandaged but fine. Arrived home with 12 Percosets, the least amount needed. I would not see my lipoma until I went to the surgeon to check my stitches. It was difficult to remove the dressing. After several attempts and sitting back on the bed when I felt whoozy, I was finally able to see the purple X. That meant the scar was somewhere else. It was long and lower. The lipoma was in-between the chest wall and the ribs. They managed to push/pull it out through that incision on the side of my right breast. Wow. Surgeons are amazing and skilled.
I healed well. No infections and was able to move my arm even after surgery. I made sure not to lift weights at the gym for a fews weeks but then I was back to normal. And my bras fit better! It felt good to lose that donut. I showed the picture of it to friends who could handle seeing it. It's amazing what can be growing in your body. When getting tests before surgery, I joked with the ultrasound tech whether it had a heartbeat, was it a boy or girl. I was in good spirits and glad it was removed before it grew any larger. I'm not in the running for growing the largest one. They say it can grow back or grow somewhere else. Or that could be it. My one and only. You never know what life will be like but you. FYI, they did test the cells and it was non-cancerous, benign. Whew. Bit that bullet. No chemo and radiation after this one. Yippee!!
Thursday, November 30, 2017
Thanksgiving 2017: We Host Yet Again
I have a binder that I use every Thanksgiving. It contains the menu from past Thanksgivings so that we can modify and see the scope of the entire set-up. This year, I made a change. Instead of an entire turkey going into the oven, I wanted to make "just the breast meat." That involved research and some convincing. Of all the Thanksgivings I have been a guest or preparer of, the entire turkey was cooked and served. This year was going to be different. We checked several markets to see what was available and decided how much meat was needed to feed a group of eight. A day before Thanksgiving, the group became nine. But we were set. We had purchased 2 turkey breasts. Each one was 5 pounds and together 10 pounds would feed nine guests. A pound of meat each. (We buy a pound of turkey a week for sandwiches! Could an adult eat this much in one sitting? Obviously not as we had leftover turkey for 3 meals. Those 3 meals were mine after Thanksgiving as someone wanted beef.)
Back to the binder. The vegetables change every year but the staples remain. The mashed potatoes are Johnny's specialty each year. He buys a five pound bag, peels them, cooks them and mashes them. I do the same with sweet potatoes, although this year I mashed them. Over the years, I have made them cut up in pieces, from frozen varieties to canned. Now that I love to eat sweet potatoes, I boil them and mash them. There's always a salad served. This year the salad included only green peppers and we did not have the right dressing for our nephew. He skipped the salad, so there was one serving for me after the holiday. We always have carrots as they cook in the oven along with the turkey and onions. We had an issue with the green beans this year. Johnny bought two frozen bags. I cringed as fresh is best but there was no time to make a change. Instead of boiling them on the stovetop, that was not an option as Johnny was carving the breasts there. We had to use the microwave. Huge bowl of frozen green beans took quite a long time to heat up in the microwave. But we got it done as the buns were put in the oven and the butter put on the table. The cranberry was from cans as was the gravy. I know, canned gravy is awful but it's something his family is used to. We never make gravy from the drippings of meat.
We kept it simple this year. I wish the green beans were different. Guess who had them for left overs.
Next year, fresh green beans. Eating fresh food is best and ought to be on the menu every day. The pies, pumpkin and apple were store bought and topped with whipped cream from a can. No tea, no coffee. Pie and go. I wish everyone had stayed longer but Johnny's parents are getting older. His sister, brother-in-law and kids stayed longer. We watched more football and talked. Since his aunt was with us this year, I brought out an album that she would like. Old family pictures that we had of John's family. That provided lots of talk and a walk down memory lane. Perhaps I ought to make pie next year but I need to plan ahead for that and practice. It is quite easy and I have the Pyrex pie pans to boot. Why not use them. Hope you enjoyed reading about my Thanksgiving binder. Please post comments and reactions below.
Back to the binder. The vegetables change every year but the staples remain. The mashed potatoes are Johnny's specialty each year. He buys a five pound bag, peels them, cooks them and mashes them. I do the same with sweet potatoes, although this year I mashed them. Over the years, I have made them cut up in pieces, from frozen varieties to canned. Now that I love to eat sweet potatoes, I boil them and mash them. There's always a salad served. This year the salad included only green peppers and we did not have the right dressing for our nephew. He skipped the salad, so there was one serving for me after the holiday. We always have carrots as they cook in the oven along with the turkey and onions. We had an issue with the green beans this year. Johnny bought two frozen bags. I cringed as fresh is best but there was no time to make a change. Instead of boiling them on the stovetop, that was not an option as Johnny was carving the breasts there. We had to use the microwave. Huge bowl of frozen green beans took quite a long time to heat up in the microwave. But we got it done as the buns were put in the oven and the butter put on the table. The cranberry was from cans as was the gravy. I know, canned gravy is awful but it's something his family is used to. We never make gravy from the drippings of meat.
We kept it simple this year. I wish the green beans were different. Guess who had them for left overs.
Next year, fresh green beans. Eating fresh food is best and ought to be on the menu every day. The pies, pumpkin and apple were store bought and topped with whipped cream from a can. No tea, no coffee. Pie and go. I wish everyone had stayed longer but Johnny's parents are getting older. His sister, brother-in-law and kids stayed longer. We watched more football and talked. Since his aunt was with us this year, I brought out an album that she would like. Old family pictures that we had of John's family. That provided lots of talk and a walk down memory lane. Perhaps I ought to make pie next year but I need to plan ahead for that and practice. It is quite easy and I have the Pyrex pie pans to boot. Why not use them. Hope you enjoyed reading about my Thanksgiving binder. Please post comments and reactions below.
My Solo Trip to London 1992
In the summer of 1992, United Airline Vacations advertised for $909 jolly good deal to England. Nine years after graduating high school at the American School in London, I decided that I earned enough money from teaching to take a trip back to London. The airline deal was named “An Invitation to London” and included round trip air and hotel accommodations for 6 nights, daily continental breakfast, a seven day Tube pass, a half day tour of London and a voucher for a pub lunch. It was a very enticing invitation but I was already familiar with London but there were old places I wanted to see again and new ones to experience. I packed one suitcase and a carry on bag.
My adventure began on a Tuesday evening, August 19th as Mom dropped me off at the airport at a long check-in line. I waited for my flight to board at gate 15, my lucky number. People kept asking me to watch their belongings as I was reading and not getting up out of my chair. I had bought an Oscar Wilde book that turned out to be quite boring. A woman sitting next to me was going to Edinburgh and we began to chat. We were supposed to board the plane at 7 but now it was already 8pm. They notified us that the longest we would for departure would be until 10. I couldn’t believe it, a four hour delay! That meant that I would be arriving later in the day in London. The problem with the airplane were the hydrolics. At 9:30 we started boarding the plane and took off down the runway at 10:30pm. I sat in the middle section of seats, aisle seat 42G. No window seat for me on this flight. Darn. I love those windows.
It’s been a tradition of mine to say a prayer and evoke a higher power, God at takeoff and landing and as needed during the flight in case there’s turbulence. My ears popped, the sign came on that we could remove seat belts and move freely around the cabin and the dinner carts came down the aisles. Barbecue chicken, an American meal but I was able to grab a teeny tiny bottle of white wine to sip as they offered chocolate cake and I ordered some Irish coffee. I was expecting to get my eight hours of sleep as this was an evening flight. Not sure how long I slept but I awoke refreshed and did not drool. We landed at four in the morning which quickly changed to nine, Greenwich Mean Time. There was a twinge of joy and tears in my eyes as I was back in Great Britain. The land of my birth.
Ah, Heathrow Airport, the long halls and no trolley for my bags. There I was, lopsided, carrying my suitcase once I retrieved it from the carousel. I stopped within the terminal at a currency exchange kiosk as I knew I needed money for lunch. For 40 US dollars, I received 17 pounds and 21 pence. Yes, I was holding colorful British money again! I relished every step I took. There were no "exits", only “way outs”. I purchased a London Transport pass, got myself to the tube, picked up a trolley at last and was already exhausted and sweaty at this point. The Picadilly line took me to the District Line and I missed the train at Earl’s Court. While waiting on the platform, I noticed a skinny fag checking out boys on the platform. Paddington was my stop. I figured out how to operate the metal turnstile by inserting the card and then grabbing it when it appeared on the other side. I trudged two blocks after exiting the station. I quickly scanned the area and noticed that there were several foreign currency shops around on Praed Street. My hotel had a fancy sign, the Norfolk Hotel. It was on a side street with a few shops on one side. At the front desk, I was told that my room would not be ready until 2 but they agreed to hold my luggage. I popped across the street and ordered a sandwich. Strange, it came cold but it was August. Cheese and tomato sandwich along with a coffee and a Kit Kat bar.
After lunch, I strolled around the block and purchased a Time Out. Only half an hour had passed but I decide to stroll back to the lobby to leaf through the magazine when they notified me that my room was ready. A tiny, rickety lift took me up to the fifth floor very slowly. It creaked and moaned as it chugged to the top floor. I lugged my suitcase down the narrow hall to room #506. Opening the door to my teeny tiny room, I was not disappointed. It was truly perfect for my memorable solo trip to London. The windows were different. They tilted inward on the wall and opened out on the top and bottom. There was no screen and the sound of double decker buses rolling down the street was rather loud. I needed some air and went to freshen up with a shower. I had 3 mirrors in the room. I got dressed and hung up some clothes in the wardrobe. Of course there was a tele but there was nothing interesting to watch so I laced up my sneakers and was out the door. Retracing my steps back to Paddington station, I purchased a ticket for St. John’s Wood.
It was 2:30 when I boarded the tube headed for St. John’s Wood. The route was not simple. I had to change at Notting Hill Gate to another train that went to Bond Street and then switch again to the Jubilee Line up to the Woods. There was reconstruction going on in the station and as I rode up the long escalator there was no newsstand or pub. Still the same crowd in the area, Indians, Americans and Arabs. I rounded the corner, feeling like a native and headed towards Europa for a few supplies. I bought some cookies, Ribena and plasters. I had already worn out the skin on my ankle and had a blister. Plasters are Band-Aids in the United Kingdom.
At the newsstand across the street, I picked up the Daily Telegraph and a few postcards. I felt like such an American in my Reeboks, my bright white high tops. I do think that I went around the block circling Eyre Court where we lived on the 3rd floor but it was actually the 4th floor. They don't count the bottom floor and there was also a basement apartment where the doorman lived. I wrote notes when I got back to the hotel and I'm not sure if I took my camera but I probably did have it with me at all times. I had to figure out the way back to the hotel and I was sweaty and tired. Jet lag was setting in and it was August which usually had muggy evenings and it rained every day almost around three. I needed to get to bed early this evening as I was still 5 hours off time and I didn’t cross the Atlantic to watch Oprah. I went down to the lobby to an old fashioned telephone booth with a big metal phone and called Mom. Yes, I was back in London, far across the ocean from NJ. Then, I inquired at the front desk where I might find a warm sandwich nearby and they suggested CADS, a wine bar downstairs in the hotel. Brilliant! No one was there except for the bartender and George Michael on the big screen tv as MTV was on. I ordered a burger and asked him about the top 40 and what the latest thing folks were listening to. He said American hip hop was big and rap but he was not into that. Dance music was also big. Oddly, Eddie Vedder came on with the video and somehow I felt like a very grungy American. My first evening in London and I was enjoying it more than I did at 17.
8-20-1992 Thursday
I woke up at 6 in the morning before the alarm went off. Buses were already rumbling by. I showered and dressed in my short blue jean skirt and yellow top. There was that tiny lift again and I took it down to the Arundel Restaurant for breakfast, also located in my hotel. A continental breakfast consists of only a croissant and coffee. That was not going to suffice. A british breakfast includes beans and fried tomatoes and a sunny side up egg. I had to fill up the tank for a long day of exploring the sights I missed the first time around. And I needed plenty of coffee. The tea cups were small and I felt like buying a big mug to bring down for breakfast. It took several refills.
My adventure began on a Tuesday evening, August 19th as Mom dropped me off at the airport at a long check-in line. I waited for my flight to board at gate 15, my lucky number. People kept asking me to watch their belongings as I was reading and not getting up out of my chair. I had bought an Oscar Wilde book that turned out to be quite boring. A woman sitting next to me was going to Edinburgh and we began to chat. We were supposed to board the plane at 7 but now it was already 8pm. They notified us that the longest we would for departure would be until 10. I couldn’t believe it, a four hour delay! That meant that I would be arriving later in the day in London. The problem with the airplane were the hydrolics. At 9:30 we started boarding the plane and took off down the runway at 10:30pm. I sat in the middle section of seats, aisle seat 42G. No window seat for me on this flight. Darn. I love those windows.
It’s been a tradition of mine to say a prayer and evoke a higher power, God at takeoff and landing and as needed during the flight in case there’s turbulence. My ears popped, the sign came on that we could remove seat belts and move freely around the cabin and the dinner carts came down the aisles. Barbecue chicken, an American meal but I was able to grab a teeny tiny bottle of white wine to sip as they offered chocolate cake and I ordered some Irish coffee. I was expecting to get my eight hours of sleep as this was an evening flight. Not sure how long I slept but I awoke refreshed and did not drool. We landed at four in the morning which quickly changed to nine, Greenwich Mean Time. There was a twinge of joy and tears in my eyes as I was back in Great Britain. The land of my birth.
Ah, Heathrow Airport, the long halls and no trolley for my bags. There I was, lopsided, carrying my suitcase once I retrieved it from the carousel. I stopped within the terminal at a currency exchange kiosk as I knew I needed money for lunch. For 40 US dollars, I received 17 pounds and 21 pence. Yes, I was holding colorful British money again! I relished every step I took. There were no "exits", only “way outs”. I purchased a London Transport pass, got myself to the tube, picked up a trolley at last and was already exhausted and sweaty at this point. The Picadilly line took me to the District Line and I missed the train at Earl’s Court. While waiting on the platform, I noticed a skinny fag checking out boys on the platform. Paddington was my stop. I figured out how to operate the metal turnstile by inserting the card and then grabbing it when it appeared on the other side. I trudged two blocks after exiting the station. I quickly scanned the area and noticed that there were several foreign currency shops around on Praed Street. My hotel had a fancy sign, the Norfolk Hotel. It was on a side street with a few shops on one side. At the front desk, I was told that my room would not be ready until 2 but they agreed to hold my luggage. I popped across the street and ordered a sandwich. Strange, it came cold but it was August. Cheese and tomato sandwich along with a coffee and a Kit Kat bar.
After lunch, I strolled around the block and purchased a Time Out. Only half an hour had passed but I decide to stroll back to the lobby to leaf through the magazine when they notified me that my room was ready. A tiny, rickety lift took me up to the fifth floor very slowly. It creaked and moaned as it chugged to the top floor. I lugged my suitcase down the narrow hall to room #506. Opening the door to my teeny tiny room, I was not disappointed. It was truly perfect for my memorable solo trip to London. The windows were different. They tilted inward on the wall and opened out on the top and bottom. There was no screen and the sound of double decker buses rolling down the street was rather loud. I needed some air and went to freshen up with a shower. I had 3 mirrors in the room. I got dressed and hung up some clothes in the wardrobe. Of course there was a tele but there was nothing interesting to watch so I laced up my sneakers and was out the door. Retracing my steps back to Paddington station, I purchased a ticket for St. John’s Wood.
It was 2:30 when I boarded the tube headed for St. John’s Wood. The route was not simple. I had to change at Notting Hill Gate to another train that went to Bond Street and then switch again to the Jubilee Line up to the Woods. There was reconstruction going on in the station and as I rode up the long escalator there was no newsstand or pub. Still the same crowd in the area, Indians, Americans and Arabs. I rounded the corner, feeling like a native and headed towards Europa for a few supplies. I bought some cookies, Ribena and plasters. I had already worn out the skin on my ankle and had a blister. Plasters are Band-Aids in the United Kingdom.
At the newsstand across the street, I picked up the Daily Telegraph and a few postcards. I felt like such an American in my Reeboks, my bright white high tops. I do think that I went around the block circling Eyre Court where we lived on the 3rd floor but it was actually the 4th floor. They don't count the bottom floor and there was also a basement apartment where the doorman lived. I wrote notes when I got back to the hotel and I'm not sure if I took my camera but I probably did have it with me at all times. I had to figure out the way back to the hotel and I was sweaty and tired. Jet lag was setting in and it was August which usually had muggy evenings and it rained every day almost around three. I needed to get to bed early this evening as I was still 5 hours off time and I didn’t cross the Atlantic to watch Oprah. I went down to the lobby to an old fashioned telephone booth with a big metal phone and called Mom. Yes, I was back in London, far across the ocean from NJ. Then, I inquired at the front desk where I might find a warm sandwich nearby and they suggested CADS, a wine bar downstairs in the hotel. Brilliant! No one was there except for the bartender and George Michael on the big screen tv as MTV was on. I ordered a burger and asked him about the top 40 and what the latest thing folks were listening to. He said American hip hop was big and rap but he was not into that. Dance music was also big. Oddly, Eddie Vedder came on with the video and somehow I felt like a very grungy American. My first evening in London and I was enjoying it more than I did at 17.
8-20-1992 Thursday
I woke up at 6 in the morning before the alarm went off. Buses were already rumbling by. I showered and dressed in my short blue jean skirt and yellow top. There was that tiny lift again and I took it down to the Arundel Restaurant for breakfast, also located in my hotel. A continental breakfast consists of only a croissant and coffee. That was not going to suffice. A british breakfast includes beans and fried tomatoes and a sunny side up egg. I had to fill up the tank for a long day of exploring the sights I missed the first time around. And I needed plenty of coffee. The tea cups were small and I felt like buying a big mug to bring down for breakfast. It took several refills.
Tuesday, November 14, 2017
Don't Snooze Through Life
There are so many posts about positive thinking online and I've read so many for years but I always need to remind myself to follow their suggestions. I don't need to write the catch phrases on index cards but I do make them a part of my life. Every morning, my first thought ought is a grateful one. A brand new day. A fresh start. A new post on my blog.
My weekdays start the same every day. Sometimes I do hear Johnny's alarm go off at 5:30. Other times I only wake when he opens the door and comes back to give me a kiss before he leaves for work. I tell him to have a good day or that I'll see him later and fall back to sleep. My alarm rings at 8:30. I hit the snooze button. A snooze is only 5 minutes and then it rings again. I hit the snooze button again. I can always turn off the alarm and fall back to sleep. I could continue to play the snooze game or I can simply get up. Every day is different. I'm striving for simply getting up. I'm getting better. Every night is different. Sometimes I toss and turn, sometimes it takes me a while to fall asleep but every night we go to bed around 10:30. Chamomile tea making occurs at 9:30 so I can sip it as I unwind and get ready for bed.
That's one thing I like about Johnny. He follows a schedule. I call him predictable as I know exactly what he's going to do and when. I used to have a 40 hour work schedule but I gave it up on February 18, 2013. I gave it up to free myself from an incredibly stressful time in my life. I felt that working somewhere that was making me more and more frustrated that I had reached my boiling point was not healthy. There have been a few instances in my life that caused me to reach a level that required fight or flight. I've learned to stand up for myself and defend myself if I have the strength and there was a chance for me to win. I've learned how to protect myself from crumbling into a pile of misery but in 2013 I was tired and frustrated and stressed. I had kept it together even with the loss of 3 important people in my life as I continued to work during my cancer treatment. But something was telling to get out. Get out of my job. It's not healthy. The red flag was waving and I was not about to ignore it.
There are times in life when you make the wrong choices. You decide to be friends with people who are not right for you. They mean you harm but you don't see it. Their life is spiraling out of control but you refuse to see it. Or you see it as your mission to help. I have learned a valuable lessons after making the wrong choices in life. I've also learned to take care of me. My health and well-being is my number one mission in life. We only get one life and there are no rehearsals. Live and learn continues to happen all through life but repeating and falling into traps and holes ought to be a learning experience that we don't repeat.
Waking up every morning ought to be a time to be grateful for being alive and not a time of dread and scrambling around and fear. I whole-heartedly believe that my life is precious. Cancer opened my eyes wider and made me appreciate and see the beauty of life. I don't want to live a life of misery, frustration, and fear. I want to make choices keeping in mind that I am strong enough and old enough to stand up tall for myself. I am proud of and have learned so much about myself since 2013.
A choice I made back in 2003 made my life shine with love. I chose to send a message to a man called John on Yahoo Personals. We first spoke that June in 2003 on a Sunday night for 3 hours! He has stood beside me since then. My life has been fairly rocky but he's been a ray of sunshine. Don't tell him that. He's real. He's got a beautiful heart. A perfect choice for me. But I'll save that for another post.
My weekdays start the same every day. Sometimes I do hear Johnny's alarm go off at 5:30. Other times I only wake when he opens the door and comes back to give me a kiss before he leaves for work. I tell him to have a good day or that I'll see him later and fall back to sleep. My alarm rings at 8:30. I hit the snooze button. A snooze is only 5 minutes and then it rings again. I hit the snooze button again. I can always turn off the alarm and fall back to sleep. I could continue to play the snooze game or I can simply get up. Every day is different. I'm striving for simply getting up. I'm getting better. Every night is different. Sometimes I toss and turn, sometimes it takes me a while to fall asleep but every night we go to bed around 10:30. Chamomile tea making occurs at 9:30 so I can sip it as I unwind and get ready for bed.
That's one thing I like about Johnny. He follows a schedule. I call him predictable as I know exactly what he's going to do and when. I used to have a 40 hour work schedule but I gave it up on February 18, 2013. I gave it up to free myself from an incredibly stressful time in my life. I felt that working somewhere that was making me more and more frustrated that I had reached my boiling point was not healthy. There have been a few instances in my life that caused me to reach a level that required fight or flight. I've learned to stand up for myself and defend myself if I have the strength and there was a chance for me to win. I've learned how to protect myself from crumbling into a pile of misery but in 2013 I was tired and frustrated and stressed. I had kept it together even with the loss of 3 important people in my life as I continued to work during my cancer treatment. But something was telling to get out. Get out of my job. It's not healthy. The red flag was waving and I was not about to ignore it.
There are times in life when you make the wrong choices. You decide to be friends with people who are not right for you. They mean you harm but you don't see it. Their life is spiraling out of control but you refuse to see it. Or you see it as your mission to help. I have learned a valuable lessons after making the wrong choices in life. I've also learned to take care of me. My health and well-being is my number one mission in life. We only get one life and there are no rehearsals. Live and learn continues to happen all through life but repeating and falling into traps and holes ought to be a learning experience that we don't repeat.
Waking up every morning ought to be a time to be grateful for being alive and not a time of dread and scrambling around and fear. I whole-heartedly believe that my life is precious. Cancer opened my eyes wider and made me appreciate and see the beauty of life. I don't want to live a life of misery, frustration, and fear. I want to make choices keeping in mind that I am strong enough and old enough to stand up tall for myself. I am proud of and have learned so much about myself since 2013.
A choice I made back in 2003 made my life shine with love. I chose to send a message to a man called John on Yahoo Personals. We first spoke that June in 2003 on a Sunday night for 3 hours! He has stood beside me since then. My life has been fairly rocky but he's been a ray of sunshine. Don't tell him that. He's real. He's got a beautiful heart. A perfect choice for me. But I'll save that for another post.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Here’s a letter I sent to my aunt and cousin in Arizona in 2007. I want to include this in my blog as it helps you to understand what was going on in my life at that time.
Dearest Aunt Marusia a.k.a "My Huggy Aunt" and Cousin “Sister” Christina,
I started writing this back on 8/06/07 to send to you but hesitated. It has been a difficult 2 weeks here, not knowing how my Mom's latest stay at the hospital would be or for how long. She had been discharged from the nursing home but had spent it battling an infection for which her Doctor gave her an antibiotic. She had said she would crawl on her hands and knees to be at home again having spent time in Inglemoor in Livingston where we celebrated her 71st Birthday back in May.
At home she was given a massaging bed and a visiting nurse along with Dad and the newest Polish housekeeper Christine. They all tended to her but her infection did not go away. Mom was coughing and trying to save her energy as it was bothering her. On the Friday before the 4th of July, I got home and Dad called "not to alarm me" but Mom was back in the hospital. Nothing happens at the hospital on weekends but she was given the drip and oxygen. They noticed that she had fluid in or below her lungs and the procedure to remove it had to wait. The fever charted by the nurses kept reappearing, 101.2 to 98.6, they waited until it was gone. They removed the fluid and tested it. She was then discharged a rehab/nursing home in Montclair. I visited her there on Thursday and she was very frail and complained about the therapy. On Friday, she complained of having breathing problems and an erratic heartbeat, she was immediately taken back to the emergency room at Beth Israel.
I was beside myself waiting for calls while at work but knowing that Andrew was there and giving us updates helped a little. I drove home and immediately lay down, said a prayer and told myself she was in God’s hands. She improved and I waited, remembering nothing happens in hospitals on weekends. She was being cared for. I visited her again, this time she looked rested and I fed her some dinner. Her humor was good as she asked for ice cream and told me that the nursing home was awful!!! With our usual goodbye, I told her I'd see her on Friday. But that has become somewhat of a running joke with us, how I'll find her no matter where she goes. Friday she was moved to Pine Acres in Madison, Dad called and said they transported her that morning.
Moving days were always hectic for her, an ambulance ride to a new location. I decided to let her get situated. We all come to visit her, but I've been troubled that no one knows outside the 4 of us. After a while, with work and driving and gardening (new hobby here!) the heat waves, the cats and of course spending time cooking for and relaxing with my wonderful John, sometimes I don't know if I'm coming or going. Or which location Mom's in or how she's feeling. I've asked Dad if any of his siblings have called as I wanted to call Uncle Walt but I'm not sure how Grandma Anna is, I know his plate is full with daughters and grandkids and home. And yours is too. Dad seems to take the quiet route. Uncle John had called but I don't know what they spoke about. Seems Dad and Andrew are tight lipped. Me? I’m bursting at the seams.
Most close associates at work do ask about my Mom but only a few friends know how important she is to me. John has been a great support knowing how I feel about her. I've been reminding Andrew and Dad that Mom's confusion or agitation may be due to aging or the infection, as I remember grandma becoming senile. Grandma stayed lucid until about 92. What a woman! Mom's confusion only occurred during the time she had the fever. She's lucid again and waves her finger in the air now saying she had a happy moment. She is improving and has in the wheelchair and I'm told needs to get the strength to stand again but they're exercising her in bed. It's not in our control but we're there for Mom with patience and understanding.to reassure her that everything will be okay. She really likes it there and we're positive for her 100 % I say we need prayer, a warm smile, some encouraging words and a peaceful feeling knowing that she continues to persevere.
The cat needs some attention and is not letting me type, I will need to finish later please hug and kiss all of the Arizona clan from me as I hope everyone is enjoying their summer. You must be a busy bee with your real estate ventures. I bet you've earned many rewards and praise from all your hard work!!!! Emails and postcards do make me feel that I know you're out there among the tumbleweeds. Stay well. Miss you. (There's also a movie called the Notebook that has the same type of issue as your busy morning email about visiting someone you love even though they don't remember you. Mom still remembers.)
Love, Motria and John
When you sent me this story in an email, Aunt Marusia, it hit very close to home.
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an Elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound. While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease. As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now. I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life." True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be. The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have.
Dearest Aunt Marusia a.k.a "My Huggy Aunt" and Cousin “Sister” Christina,
I started writing this back on 8/06/07 to send to you but hesitated. It has been a difficult 2 weeks here, not knowing how my Mom's latest stay at the hospital would be or for how long. She had been discharged from the nursing home but had spent it battling an infection for which her Doctor gave her an antibiotic. She had said she would crawl on her hands and knees to be at home again having spent time in Inglemoor in Livingston where we celebrated her 71st Birthday back in May.
At home she was given a massaging bed and a visiting nurse along with Dad and the newest Polish housekeeper Christine. They all tended to her but her infection did not go away. Mom was coughing and trying to save her energy as it was bothering her. On the Friday before the 4th of July, I got home and Dad called "not to alarm me" but Mom was back in the hospital. Nothing happens at the hospital on weekends but she was given the drip and oxygen. They noticed that she had fluid in or below her lungs and the procedure to remove it had to wait. The fever charted by the nurses kept reappearing, 101.2 to 98.6, they waited until it was gone. They removed the fluid and tested it. She was then discharged a rehab/nursing home in Montclair. I visited her there on Thursday and she was very frail and complained about the therapy. On Friday, she complained of having breathing problems and an erratic heartbeat, she was immediately taken back to the emergency room at Beth Israel.
I was beside myself waiting for calls while at work but knowing that Andrew was there and giving us updates helped a little. I drove home and immediately lay down, said a prayer and told myself she was in God’s hands. She improved and I waited, remembering nothing happens in hospitals on weekends. She was being cared for. I visited her again, this time she looked rested and I fed her some dinner. Her humor was good as she asked for ice cream and told me that the nursing home was awful!!! With our usual goodbye, I told her I'd see her on Friday. But that has become somewhat of a running joke with us, how I'll find her no matter where she goes. Friday she was moved to Pine Acres in Madison, Dad called and said they transported her that morning.
Moving days were always hectic for her, an ambulance ride to a new location. I decided to let her get situated. We all come to visit her, but I've been troubled that no one knows outside the 4 of us. After a while, with work and driving and gardening (new hobby here!) the heat waves, the cats and of course spending time cooking for and relaxing with my wonderful John, sometimes I don't know if I'm coming or going. Or which location Mom's in or how she's feeling. I've asked Dad if any of his siblings have called as I wanted to call Uncle Walt but I'm not sure how Grandma Anna is, I know his plate is full with daughters and grandkids and home. And yours is too. Dad seems to take the quiet route. Uncle John had called but I don't know what they spoke about. Seems Dad and Andrew are tight lipped. Me? I’m bursting at the seams.
Most close associates at work do ask about my Mom but only a few friends know how important she is to me. John has been a great support knowing how I feel about her. I've been reminding Andrew and Dad that Mom's confusion or agitation may be due to aging or the infection, as I remember grandma becoming senile. Grandma stayed lucid until about 92. What a woman! Mom's confusion only occurred during the time she had the fever. She's lucid again and waves her finger in the air now saying she had a happy moment. She is improving and has in the wheelchair and I'm told needs to get the strength to stand again but they're exercising her in bed. It's not in our control but we're there for Mom with patience and understanding.to reassure her that everything will be okay. She really likes it there and we're positive for her 100 % I say we need prayer, a warm smile, some encouraging words and a peaceful feeling knowing that she continues to persevere.
The cat needs some attention and is not letting me type, I will need to finish later please hug and kiss all of the Arizona clan from me as I hope everyone is enjoying their summer. You must be a busy bee with your real estate ventures. I bet you've earned many rewards and praise from all your hard work!!!! Emails and postcards do make me feel that I know you're out there among the tumbleweeds. Stay well. Miss you. (There's also a movie called the Notebook that has the same type of issue as your busy morning email about visiting someone you love even though they don't remember you. Mom still remembers.)
Love, Motria and John
When you sent me this story in an email, Aunt Marusia, it hit very close to home.
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an Elderly gentleman in his 80's, arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound. While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer's Disease. As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now. I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning, even though she doesn't know who you are?" He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is." I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life." True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be. The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have.
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