How to Be A Widow

The answer is: one day at a time!

And it is still difficult.

Yesterday marked exactly two months since Theodore died at Kaiser Hospital at about 10:37 p.m.  It hasn't gotten one bit easier from one day to the next.

New things happen all the time, however. Last Saturday marked my first minor wreck ,without his being around, for a long long time.  I cracked into this guy's rear end while I was craning around in an unfamiliar neighborhood looking for the Marshall's.  Of course, his was a custom-made red Mustang.  He was polite about it, however, 
but he did take down my insurance info even though neither of us could see any damage to self or vehicle.  He even pointed out the Marshall's to me at the end of our confrontation.  He was a very nice person and I did not have to cry.

And today I had a confrontation with a very young black lady in the Walmart parking lot after I whomped into a parking place when apparently she had been waiting for it (coming the other way at the corner)...she was really angry and she let me know it.  Cars were behind her honking and she wanted me to let her back up so I could back up and give her my parking place.  I said I couldnt do it because it was too late, just look at the people behind her already honking, and she just got madder and she said we SHOULD do it because it was HER place; she'd been waiting.  I said I was sorry, but I didnt move the car.  She really let me have it verbally and said I was lucky she didnt ram into me and bust my ass.  I didnt mention to her that that seems to be more my role now in the traffic scenario.  But she was mad and I wasnt as upset as I should have been--because I am exactly forty years older than she (by my guess) and I deserved something...respect, pardon, whatever.   And was already tired and it was only ten thirty a.m.

Each day presents its challenges and each day demands its solution.  I hate it that I had that heart attack last year and that I have to rest after lunch; it is a break in the day that is physically necessary but not usually really beneficial.  A friend says she has her nap from two to three after which she gets up and puts on her pajamas and is in evening mode.  I am not quite there yet, but it is now six oh three p.m. and I am more than ready to shut down the store for the night. It's crazy.

I miss my husband, and my old way of life.  I dont like being alone, and I dont like having to plan whether or not I am going to take a vacation and when and to where all by myself.  I dont like being alone at night. I dont like being alone all day either.  I am going to have to take some classes or join a crafts group (Lord, spare me!) or study the Bible or something just to put myself with other people somehow, people who know my name and either like or dislike me but at least know I am alive and around.  Well, from all this you can tell that after all this time I don't know much about How to Be a Widow. YAZZYBEL

Nice Cookbook

Good morning.

Yesterday I went to the Methodist Thrift Shop in SD, and a title caught my eye amongst the books: Mexican Light.  At first I thought it might be about geography, or weather, or photography, or home decor. No, it's about a style of cooking. But I liked the format of the book and the author, Rose Shulman, is well known--although as far as I know, she's as far removed from Mexico and things Mexican as Darth Vader.  But what do I know anyway? The book is full of good ideas.

Mexican food as I know it has undergone a huge change in the long years I've been eating it.  Our idea of Mexican food when I was a kid was of the deeply seasoned, meat-centered cuisine of the ranches of northern Mexico and South Texas.  Nowadays, with so many people pouring into the USA from the more southern and purely idigenous folk from Oaxaca and Michoacan mainly,  the idea of "Mexican food" has surely shifted.

I bet I could look through that cookbook (though I havent done it yet) , through every recipe, without finding one recipe with comino in it.  Cumin is such a staple flavor in Mexican food as I know it, but of course now I realize that it was a staple flavor in Mediterranean cooking, Arabic cooking, Sephardic cooking...and those were our folks as we came over from Spain.  The Indians of the New World knew not of the comino, and still eschew its vibrant flavor in their (rather meek to me) versions of tacos and rice.

Well, I like both types. They are just different. In the meantime, this cookbook has lots of delightful taco ideas with stirfried squashes, onions, corn, chiles, that are plenty tasty.  And having had my heart attack last year, I appreciate the "soft taco" versions that aren't fried in fat.  I do them that way now anyway...how often have you heard me say to lay the tortilla down on the open gas flame...or grill?

Anyway, it is a good read, and I advise everyone who'd like a few new-ish ideas to go onto eBay or Amazon and get a "Mexican Light" by Rose Shulman.  YAZZYBEL

And the Little Ones Chewed On---What?

You've all heard about the fox, who went out on a summer's night....he brought back a big fat chicken, and,

"You never saw such a supper in your life,
And the little ones chewed on the bones-oh!!"

Now KFC is serving all its chicken products boneless, I hear.  Why, I don't know.

And I went to the store to get me some soup bones or some tough meat with a bone on it, and no such thing could be had. This is a big supermarket here in Chula Vista. When I complained about it at the register, you'd think I'd dropped into a zombie's coven:  dull, uncomprehending expressions and no response from one and all.  Am I the one who's crazy?  WE NEED BONES.  BEEF BONES, especially.  There were no bones to be had in the meat dept., and the butcher told me when I complained back there that "all our meat" comes to them boneless. 

What 's being done with all those bones? Someone discovered a value to bones and so the bones are all sequestered, sold off to vitamin companies, pet food companies, who knows where.  The lowly public hardly gets one any more unless it's willing to buy a T-bone.  Let me tell you a tip: If you do get some T-bones, save those bones in the freezer after you've chewed all the meat off of them. They are valuable, and rare.

My husband didn't like bones.  I always have liked to chew on bones...I am like Harriet, wife of a co-worker of my husband's once, who...(we were at a company dinner)..noticing that the prime rib was being carved and served off the bone, whispered in the waiter's ear.  Shortly, a huge platter of bones arrived and she dug in, gnawing away.  I 'm with her.

I wanted the bones to make good Russian borscht, which I had at Elijah's  last Sunday.  It cured me of my malaise when nothing else has.  Here's how I made it with what I had around the house.

Russian Borscht

can of chicken stock, can of water
leftover beef of the boneless stir-fry type
onions cut up

Put that on the stove and cook it on low for quite a while.  After a time add:

cut up cabbage
cut up carrots
leftover boiled potato or cubed potato
can of beets and juice, cubed

Let that all simmer until you are hungry.  I took out three fourths of it just now, to put into the refrigerator.  I will have the other fourth for supper.  "On a hot day like this?" I hear the chorus of cries.  Yes, on a hot day like this, Russian Borscht will be just fine.  It would 've been even finer with BONES...

YAZZYBEL

Angry and Unbecoming Thoughts of the Widow

Yes, they are there. Here they are.

1. Why did you have to go off and leave me?

2.  Why didn't you get things better set up years ago?

3.  As long as you had to leave, why did you wait till I was eighty-four years alone and it was too late to know what to do?

YAZZYBEL

Brushing the Cat

I have found a new and rewarding occupation.
 Brushing the cat.

When I was going through my husband's stuff, I found a hairbrush that I'd never seen him use. It's kind of a rosewood color with black stripes, and it looks like natural bristle.  I'd have used it but that natural bristle does little to curb my unruly mane, but I took it outside and brushed the cat with it. To his surprise!!

But Freckles decided that he likes it.  It's funny that the brush is kind of like a huge mother-cat tongue, and I  employ it on him just as his long lost mother must have,  holding him in place to get to every nook and cranny that I can, and sweeping long and deep in the easy places.  Freckles placidly accepts it all, turning the other cheek and lifting his head and inclining his ears and all.  He loves it, in fact, and it's become an interesting and pleasant part of the early morning for both of us.

If you are a widow or widower or are perturbed about anything at all, I recommend brushing your cat for a little while, in the morning.  It's a good thing.             YAZZYBEL