Friday, September 13, 2019

If You Want to Go Fast

If you want to go fast, go alone.
If you want to go far, go together.

That may have been about all of the wisdom I received from the Democratic hopeful candidates’ debate last night. But the supposedly African proverb gave me food for thought.

A few weeks ago our beagle Flip was very sick, and we thought it was the end for him. He rallied back, but I decided that perhaps the long morning walk around our meadow (2,500+ steps) was maybe too much for the old dog. So from that point until now I basically walk alone every morning around the meadow. Oh, Rocky, our black-mouthed cur goes along with me, but he isn’t on a leash. He goes his way in and out of the forest along the well cut path (thanks to my hubby❤️), and I walk a fast pace in the dew drenched grass. 

Rocky and I make it around the property in less than 30 minutes. If Flip is along on the leash, we have many stops. And in this summer heat even at 7:00 am, the fewer stops the better. Recently I have been exceeding my daily goal of 5,000 steps, and I suppose that it may be time to boost up that number to 7,500.

Several times a week I make a morning walk on our paved road with my sweet neighbor. She calls our walks “walkie talkies.” It gives me a chance to walk farther and a chance for us to catch up on family gossip. Both hers and mine. 😬

Whether I walk alone or walk together with my neighbor or even my hubby who thinks I am obsessed with this step counting, I plan to keep walking as fast and as far as I can for as long as I can. 


Wednesday, September 11, 2019

Hiding? Who Me?

Don’t know about you, but I enjoyed the “remix” or “repeat” or “re-something” that I did with this blog yesterday. So let’s do it again. Click here for a rerun of “Do You Put Your Business on the Street?”
This is the house in The Netherlands and the bridge where we put our trash out on the street.


Tuesday, September 10, 2019

Remember When?

Who says that for an English major that I have no imagination or that I can not write? 

 recently shared my Wetcreek Blog with friends and relatives who never knew about my blog or maybe just never got around to reading it. Most folks think that I only used my blog to publish all of my mom’s cookbook. Or that I copied old tales of my parents’ lives and my life. But actually there are a few decent pieces of writing in the mix. 

This afternoon I ran across some posts that I am especially proud to say that I wrote. Here is one that I wrote four years ago during an extremely busy summer with my husband away in Europe handling business and taking care of my ill mom and before my life seemed to turn inside out.  Click here:

Hope you don’t mind the remix on this blog. I am enjoying “remembering when I wrote this.”

Saturday, August 24, 2019

Life in the Slow Lane

I know it is my imagination, but I feel fall in the air. I never was much of a summer person, and the older I get the more I complain about the heat. My front porch garden is nothing to write home about, but we have munched on a few cherry tomatoes and actually harvested about four eggplants that I worked through our spaghetti sauce.

As I sat down to add to this blog, I noticed the beautiful pink volunteer pink Vinca that took up lodging where the “never do well” geraniums struggled and died. In the photo, the lovely Vinca plant is on the left. We won’t discuss the Zonal Geranium on the right that was much too expensive and probably not ever being included in my plant purchases again. 

Still trying to conquer this iron deficiency anemia by sipping a hot cup of plain tap water instead of tea or coffee. Enjoying a breezy and partly cloudy Saturday morning on the front porch. Life in the slow lane😬


Monday, August 19, 2019

Being Ready for Death

Sorry for such a morbid topic on this sunny August morning. But my husband and I thought that we were not ready for death of any kind last evening. And no one or no thing that we know died last night, but our faithful old dog Flip seemed like he was going down that path.

It all began around 4:00 pm when Flip became sick on the wooden floor of our living room. He sometimes drinks too much water and throws it right up, but this was different. We quickly rushed him outside in case there was more, and I cleaned up. He seemed to be better after a while, so he came inside while we ate our dinner. We usually feed Flip and Rocky while we eat, so my husband made their food ready. When he put Flip’s bowl down on the floor in its place, Flip hopped up and his left back hip gave away. He could not manage moving his two back legs. We immediately jumped up to see what was wrong, but he seemed to be as confused as we were. He began hyperventilating and licking his lips and profusely dripping moisture from his mouth. He was going through shock, and so were we.

Flip is not a young dog. In fact, he found us and our home in January 2011. We estimate that he was about a year old when he arrived on our front porch on an unusually cold January afternoon.  Because of his age, we keep him pretty much housebound and never let him roam. So we know about his diet and his activity. But something made him very, very sick last evening.

After his first “stroke” or whatever he experienced, we offered him water and even food. He declined both, so my husband carried Flip to his cot in the hallway and sat on a stool beside him for a couple of hours. In the meantime, Flip threw up a frothy clear liquid at least three more times and continued to hyperventilate and lick his lips. His tongue was purple and his eyes seemed to bulge out from the sockets. Not a pretty sight, but he was definitely not feeling well. 

We notified our son that we had a sick dog, and then my husband and I decided that we would not take our Flip to the emergency vet one hour’s drive away from where we live. And then we waited. We think that he even had a second “stroke/attack.” My husband and I swapped places sitting next to our sick doggy, and just about the time that I needed to step up and recharge my iPad’s battery,  I thought that Flip’s battery had also seen its last days. He lay super quiet and seemed to scarcely breathe.

When I stood up, so did Flip! He followed me to the kitchen and drank water. Then he wagged his tail and walked toward the back door meaning that he needed to go outside. My husband took him outside. Flip sniffed around and took care of some business and then came back inside looking for food. We made water available, but he got no food last night. 

Flip slept peacefully all night. This morning he came out of his kennel ready to walk and later eat. He is sleeping nicely on his cot in our hallway at the moment. He even had a little dream and barked in his sleep.

Guess he is not ready for death.
Whew! Neither were we!

Friday, August 16, 2019

Happy Birthday, Opa Assink

Both sides of my family are huge. My husband’s family is not so big. So when I tell you that many of the important dates (like birthdays and weddings) seem to fall on almost the same date for both his and mine, you will wonder like I do if our union was not pre-planned. Remember, I do not believe in coincidences.😬

Yesterday was my maternal grandmother’s birthdate. Today is my Dutch husband’s maternal grandfather’s birthdate, August 16, 1871. Grandfather Gerrit Jan Assink lived to be 73 years, which happens to be the exact age of my husband at the moment. But just as my husband, Opa Assink was in fine health. He passed away in October 1944 (almost exactly a year before my husband was born) in the Allied (Martin B-26 Marauder—USAAF) bombing of the train station of Hengelo, The Netherlands. 

Although we never met Opa Assink, we do have a few lovely photos of him and lots of stories of how he grew up from being an orphan with his sister and then later on owning a fruit and vegetable shop with a hard-working wife. If you read Dutch or know how to use Google Translate, you might enjoy reading cousin Gerrit Jan’s http://www.assinks. 

Opa Assink is the stately gentleman at the foot of the stairs (center) at my in-laws’ wedding in 1942. 

Thursday, August 15, 2019

Happy Birthday, Mammaw Em

My own mother was born before her mom turned 30. That is no great news, except my mom was child number five. And my mammaw gave birth to four more children after my mom was born in 1925. That same grandmother died at the ripe old age of 98 some 26 years ago. 

What do I remember about the grandmother who complained that my parents never let us stay over unless they stayed, too? 
Or who lived in a house without an indoor toilet until probably the late 1960’s? 
Or one who made a mean pot of chicken and dumplings but who seemed to dirty up all of the pots and pans when preparing it? 
Or traveled an eight hour Continental Trailways bus ride to visit us and looked like she had just stepped out of the beauty shop when she stepped out of the bus? 
Or the same old lady at 71 (my age now😬) that I had to sleep with in the same double bed when she came for a visit? 
Or the grandmother who always wore a dress and usually an apron? 
Or the poor farmer’s wife who made her own furniture out of bits and pieces of old and broken furniture? 
Or the seamstress who not only made clothes for herself and her brood, but stitched up quilts that my own mother later remade? 
Or the mother who lived for years with an unmarried daughter and then outlived that child and one other one?

Happy Birthday, Mammaw Emily Francis New Ridge born on August 15, 1895.