Moaning a bit this Monday morn, but not unpleasantly.
So on my desk sits this little daily mindfulness calendar.
And on the back of each page is “The Daily Extra.”
Here’s today’s. (A moaningly bad joke.)
But a tad funny.
My weekly gratitude journal, of sorts.
1. HR cavorting around in local bamboo.
2. This incredible salad from the other day. Do you know the joy of salad?!
3. Grandson Gabriel being a standout in the regional basketball championship for eighth graders here in Savannah.
And here he is continuing to hog the trophy.
(FYI: I yelled and clapped far too inappropriately loud at times.)
4. Having at least a dozen reasons to smile everyday! (What have you smiled about today?)
5. Savannah’s Perfectly Pretty in Pink February!
Okay, maybe I have more than five Happy Bringers this Friday …
6. Beautiful morning coffee and breakfast burrito at nearby cool and hip Origin Coffee Bar. (Because of course I know what is cool and hip.)
7. This animal-looking stump thingy Robert and I saw on our Fort Pulaski/Cockspur Island hike the other day.
I sorta wanted to hug him.
Weekend hugs to you!
My weekly gratitude journal, of sorts.
1. Our seasonally inappropriate yet longevity-embracing pumpkin from last fall … who simply refuses to give up the ghost.
2. Like they have done in winters past, someone “decorates” our Washington Square with newly fallen camellia blooms.
3. Our incredible digestive systems, which take the food we eat and voila! gives us energy and health. Thank you, Tummy.
4. I try to keep roses around as long as possible. Why wouldn’t you?! Here’s a reiteration (is that a word?) of some white beauties that Robert gave me on Valentine’s Day.
5. R and R. (Robert and Red.)
May this weekend bring you an extravagance of Joy.
So here I am sitting in my study chair …
… reading this delightful and heartwarmingly truthful novel which my friend Don loaned me the other day.
“It has really short chapters. You’ll enjoy it.” (Don obviously has keen insight into my attention span.)
The Secret Diary of Hendrik Groen, 83 1/4 Years Old is a hoot of a read, and like Don‘s insight, is spot on about old folks.
Hendrik lives in an independent living facility in the Netherlands. He is keeping a daily diary about his “adventures” there.
Here’s one diary entry:
Saturday, April 6
Old people are forever grunting and groaning. Sometimes it’s out of exertion or pain, but more often simply out of habit. I have made a small study of it.
The champion grunter is Mr. Kuiper, not my best friend to start with. Standing up, putting on his coat, picking something up, even if it’s just a teacup; everything is accompanied by a groan as if he’s being run over by a steamroller.
Once I started noticing, it began irking me more and more. That’s wrong. Don’t get annoyed, just wonder at it, my father used to say. Advice meant for others, since my father got extremely worked up about everything.
This morning I plucked up the courage and asked Kuiper what made him groan so when he sat down.
“Who, me?” he replied, genuinely surprised. For half an hour afterward he didn’t make a sound, but then, slowly but surely, the grunting started up again. It was like women’s tennis. There used to be very little grunting, as far as I’m aware, but nowadays I have to turn down the sound when watching tennis on TV. They’re doing it de-liberately. And it’s contagious: the men seem to be doing it more and more as well.
Meanwhile it’s left me with a problem. I’m starting to loathe Kuiper because I notice every little groan. And it’s not just him. Quite a number of the other inmates as well.
And worst of all, I can sometimes hear myself doing it too.
Oh my goodness can I relate to all that! And at 72 1/6 years old, I am finding something new to complain about every day. Just ask Robert.
Go ahead, ask him.
Blog Reader: “Does Neal grunt, groan and complain a lot?”
Robert: “Is Trump a criminal?”
Blog Reader: “What? Huh? Well, okay, but can you give us an example?”
Robert: “He tried to overturn the results of the 2020 election.”
Blog Reader: “No, no! I meant about Neal’s groans!”
Robert: “How much time do you have? Well, here’s a typical conversation when we first get up, after we take our blood pressure and take care of business but before our coffee.
……….
Me: “Good morning” as I give Neal a quick grandmother kiss. “How are you feeling today.” (This is always a dangerous question to ask.)
Neal: “Well,” exhaling deeply but not in a calm or meditative way, more like an old and disgruntled horse, “I can feel the morning cold in the arthritis in BOTH of my wrists today!” (Neal’s arthritis began several years ago after he fell in front of Claire’s—of all places—at the mall.
Neal: “And,” sighing deeply but not in a relaxing way, more exasperation-ish, like Biden after remembering how old he will be at the end of a second term, “the arthritis in my lower back is KILLING me. I’ll probably need to use my tens unit this morning, maybe the paraffin wax on my hands. IF I have time, that is.” (He’s retired, and the only thing he really needs to do all morning is empty the dishwasher.
Me: “Well maybe you should try to frame it all a little diff—“
Neal: Interrupting, “You know what? I think my face feels numb this morning.”
……….
(You get the picture, so I’ll just hush.)
So last night HR found some highfalutin (Is that how you spell that word?) recipe for fancy (i.e. gay) shrimp cocktail sauce. It involved limoncello, vodka, and my newly discovered, INCREDIBLE recipe for homemade cocktail sauce.
He also used the limoncello for a fancy (see a trend here?) blood orange cocktail.
I’m not sure what he’s doing below, but maybe an inverted version of the downward shrimp? Your guess is as good as mine.
“Sunshiny”
So Robert and I live in beautiful Historic District Savannah …
… about 20 minutes from Tybee Island …
… and the Atlantic Ocean.
Living near the coast is terrific.
But it does get on my nerves a teeny tiny bit that “Coastal” is incorporated into SO many businesses, organizations, etc. here.
My dermatologist is Coastal Dermatology.
My dentist is Coastal Dentistry.
My chiropractor is Coastal Chiropractic
Even my daughter Amy owns a local health care company called COASTAL Care Partners, for goodness sake!
https://www.coastalcarepartners.com
And she has a dog named (of course) Coastal.
Who may or may not be gay.
Collards are probably my favorite winter vegetable. (Delete “probably.”)
Yesterday morning Robert and I went to our incredibly and beautifully diverse Savannah Farmers Market, where I grabbed a bunch of the green delicacy.
I rushed back home to clean them (the collards, not the farmers) and create my favorite part of the collarding experience— making the collard bouquet!
Isn’t she beautiful?!
Next, the chopping into manageable pieces. (Which sounds a bit too much like “Sweeny Todd” to suit my fancy.)
After placing the greens into an already-been-cooking mixture of broth and ham seasoning meat, and impatiently waiting for them to slowly cook …
DELICIOUS JOY!
Wait! Don’t throw those too-thick collard stems away, for goodness sake. Make homemade vegetable stock with them.
A blog category of pics I’ve taken of HR (Hubby Robert) and … well, just about anything.
Robert and … a coffee cup, alongside a little trinket given to him by granddaughter Isabelle.
NealEnJoy 