A place where I can share interesting ideas and maybe get a few things off my chest

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City Fish Grill – Oldsmar, FL

We recently went to a to-remain-unnamed Italian restaurant near our home. The waitress was pleasant and the food was adequate to the task of making us no longer hungry, but that’s about all I can say to recommend it. As I thought about what kind of review I might give it, I realized that I don’t have the streak of meanness necessary to be a good food critic, or really a critic of anything. It was not horrible, there might be other things to recommend the restaurant that we didn’t sample (although we did have the night’s specials – one would think they would have something to recommend them, but I digress), and it is someone’s livelihood and perhaps even pride and joy. So, I’ve decided that unless a restaurant is truly horrible in some way, I will not post negative reviews of merely disappointing dining experiences.

Which brings me 180 degrees to City Fish Grill in Oldsmar. A co-worker recommended this restaurant almost two years ago, and even though it’s only a few blocks from our home, we had never been, mostly because it’s packed on Friday and Saturday nights and we never plan ahead well enough to remember to make reservations. Last weekend, though, we were at a nearby hotel attending a conference and knew in advance we’d want to eat somewhere very nearby. We reserved a table for 10 early in the evening and when we arrived were greeted by very friendly staff and shown immediately to our table even though our party was incomplete.

I wish I had thought to photograph everyone’s dinners, especially the Seafood Tower, an appetizer one of our group ordered as his main meal. The first thing on our table was the hot bread served with dishes of olive oil swirled with a balsamic reduction and a little shredded parmesan. I had a cup of she-crab bisque (served in a good-sized bowl – I don’t know how big the bowl of soup would have been) that was delicious. I guess the bisque satisfied my craving for seafood, because I then ordered their special filet mignon topped with a blueberry/balsamic reduction glaze. The feta au gratin potatoes were not as tasty as I might have liked, but then I had already had she-crab soup and a 9-oz filet to tackle.

The finishing touch, though, was the vanilla crème brûlée. I love crème brûlée. And although I am always on the quest for the perfect crème brûlée, I have only a vague memory of perhaps having once had a mediocre crème brûlée – never a bad one. City Fish’s crème brûlée, though, definitely falls into the delicious category. A generous portion of wonderfully rich and creamy vanilla custard topped with beautiful, crisp caramel that made a delightful crunch as I broke through it with my spoon (fans of Amelie will appreciate that reference), and garnished with blueberries and whipped cream. It was beautiful and delicious.

20140524_185909

 

We will definitely be going there again. It’s good enough to remember to make reservations for.

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Genealogical DNA Testing

I was at a presentation over the weekend about Native American music. One of the presenters mentioned having had a DNA profile done a few years back by Ancestry.com for about $200. I came home and looked it up and now it’s only $89!

Mom has always talked about how much her dad showed his Indian blood and how she inherited his olive complexion and brown eyes, while both of her sisters had blue eyes like their mother, and I’ve always wondered about my possible Native American background.

He looks Indian, right?

Mott Moore c. 1950s – He looks like he could have been in one of those old westerns, right?

But now, as I’m typing this, I realize that the story I heard from my mother’s uncle about his grandmother, who would have been Mother’s great-grandmother, being full-blood Cherokee, was on her mother’s side of the family!

Okay, now I’m REALLY interested in checking out this DNA test thing. Order the kit for $89, spit in a tube and send it back, and get a breakdown of your ethnic heritage. This has now taken a spot on the WANT! list above those bright-and-shiny earrings I’ve been eyeing.

 

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My Brain at Night

Brain at Night

I don’t know who to credit for this memecard that found its way to my Facebook page, but it so perfectly captured my experience that I not only shared it there, but felt compelled to bring it forward here to share last night’s brainshower.

A group that popped up on Facebook at the beginning of Lent, “40 Bags in 40 Days”, is a mutual-cheer group for people working toward decluttering, giving up for Lent not just one thing, but a portion of the mass of things that reflects, constitutes, and exacerbates the feelings of not being in control of our lives.

Last night, in one of those moments I often have where I am partially awake but know it isn’t time to really wake up, my mind paralleled body fat with house clutter. When you eat more calories than you need, your body pulls the extra glucose out of your blood and converts it to fat storage (somehow, I don’t know the actual mechanics) for when you might need it later. In our society, food is so plentiful that the later never comes and so we just continue to accumulate the fat that slows us down and wears us out.

Our society also has such a surplus of material goods that producers constantly vie for our attention, hoping to persuade us to purchase their things, whether we need them or not. And hunter-gatherers that we are, when we find a spiffy-cool, bright-and-shiny object that is either unlike anything we have or somehow perceived as better than all the other ones we already own, we grab it and take it back to the cave to save for when we might need it later. Except that, like the fat in our bodies, later may never come and we just continue to accumulate things that slow us down and wear us out mentally and emotionally.

Just as the fat accumulating inside our arteries can constrict and slow down the blood flow, the clutter in our homes constricts the energy flow, making moving through our living space feel like struggling through invisible quicksand.

To my middle-of-the-night brain, it was all so clear, and reinforced my plan to continue to work on letting go of things. 

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Grooming Sophie

Yorkies are known for their long, silky hair. And when Yorkies are groomed for show, they look like this:

Show Yorkie

It occurred to me that Yorkies are the grown-up equivalent of this:

Big Barbie Head

When I was a kid, I did not have the ability to sit still long enough to play with something like this. As an adult, the idea of holding down a squirming dog who didn’t want to be brushed and combed any more than I wanted to be doing it, would probably leave Sophie looking much like this poor puppy:

Cookie’s before picture

However, since I am not a cruel doggie mistress, I took Sophie to the groomer today. Our groomer has this poster on the wall so those of us unfamiliar with grooming terms can merely point and grunt at the style we desire.

Grooming poster

 

Last time at the groomer , we had her do something similar to 3rd row, 4th photo (not exactly, because they left her side fringe a little longer), only to find that the grass in our backyard has seeds that have some kind of sticky adhesive properties that allowed Sophie to collect them all along her legs and sides, and then deposit them on the couch and our laps. This time, I told them I wanted the Body Contour cut (3rd row, 1st photo) – to just make her look like a short-hair dog except for her little face ruff and eyebrows.

She is really quite adorable and as soon as I find the little cord that lets me transfer pictures from my camera to my computer (I know it’s around here somewhere on my desk, under some of this very important stuff I have yet to sort through and file), I will post a photo of her amazing cuteness.

 

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Plastic Mitigation

I’ve cleaned out the cabinets of most of the plastic foodware. I’m ordering a glass cookie jar for Mom and a ceramic coffee jar, both to replace the I-don’t-know-how-many-years-old Rubbermaid canisters. The sugar and brown sugar that have been in the smaller canisters is just going down the sink and their canisters won’t be replaced, at least not immediately, because I can’t remember the last time I used either one. I have quite a collection of Mason jars that the rice can be stored in. Operation Plastic Purge is well underway.

Unfortunately, I’m having problems in a couple of areas. One is that a great deal of our food products that used to come in glass now are packaged in plastic. The entire condiment aisle used to be glass jars and bottles, but now ketchup, mayo, salad dressing – all plastic. The only jars in our fridge that are consistently glass are those holding jam or relish. I think I’ll be able to find a version of most things offered in glass, except when I get to the dairy case. Yogurt, cottage cheese, milk, cheese – all in plastic of some kind. I’ve been thinking that perhaps the way to deal with that is to put that stuff into glass containers as soon after I purchase it as possible. Mitigation, if not elimination.

But I haven’t yet been able to figure out  this thing:

Mr. Coffee

Not only does it have a plastic reservoir into which we pour cold water for it to sit for hours overnight, but it also has a plastic filter bowl, over which very hot water pours as the coffee is made. As best I can tell, there are few, if any, automatic coffee makers without plastic innards. When I surfed for “plastic-free coffee pots”, I got pictures of large and small manual types – old-fashioned drip pots, stove-top percolators, very cute single-serving ceramic drip cups, sleek glass coffee presses – but nothing that would allow me to set up coffee to be ready for my mother on the days she gets up an hour or more earlier than I do.

This sleek fellow calls himself stainless, but I see plastic across the bottom and the details don’t tell me if the insides are also stainless.

This one appears to be all-steel construction, probably because plastic would not withstand the heat of percolation, but alas, it is not programmable. It might work for us if it has a time-off switch, which is actually the main reason we bought a programmable one in the first place, after I came home and found that Mother had poured herself the last cup of coffee and then left the burner on the entire day. If it will turn itself off, then I could set it up the night before so all she’d have to do would be to hit the “on” switch. Of course, she’d also have to be able to lift the pot to pour it, and it looks like it might be a little heavy.

I guess until we get a new one, I’ll continue to make coffee in our almost-totally-plastic coffee maker. And worry about it.

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How To Avoid Plastics?

A couple of days ago, I saw a link to a Mother Jones article regarding plastics which leach estrogen mimicking chemicals into any food contained within them. Not just the ones with BPA, but a vast array of plastics. And how the plastics companies had hired the same legal firms used by Big Tobacco in the past.

The following day, a follow-up article showed the handy chart below. The percentages shown below indicate how many of the samples tested showed estrogen activity (EA).

So, during the day yesterday, I’m thinking about all the food-holding plastic in my kitchen. Not just the Rubbermaid containers that have leftovers (that I sometimes heat in the microwave at work, which evidently makes the leaching worse), but the long-term storage of coffee, sugar, flour, rice, etc., in those nice, clear plastic canisters that keep me from having to remember (or just guessing) what any given container might be holding. And those handy clear plastic pint freezer jars I just put 20+ pints of (hot!) broth in before stocking the freezer with what I considered to be a much healthier alternative to the canned broth with all the added salt and other preservatives. And I’m thinking how I may be using all those glass Mason jars (thank you, Classico) I’ve got stashed around the house and garage as alternate food storage until I figure out something better.

I shared this info on Facebook with my kids and extended family members who have young children, and also printed the two articles out for a young mother co-worker. She asked for the URL to send her husband so he wouldn’t think she’d lost her mind when she started throwing out all the plastic in the kitchen.

Last night, I started looking on Amazon for glass or stainless canisters. And as I cooked dinner, I eyed the plastic spoons and ladles in the tool crock. When I put dinner away, I used a lidded glass bowl I normally only use to microwave food. It’s round, and the lid doesn’t fit tightly, and it takes up more room in the fridge than the handy square, stackable Rubbermaid ones that now I’m wondering if Hubby should even be using for his salad lunches anymore. Last night, I tossed and turned as I wondered if I’d be able to find a wooden ladle, then thought about how that wouldn’t look good with a punchbowl, but I wouldn’t want to use the plastic ladle anymore, but glass ladles are just so fragile, and on and on and on.

THEN I started thinking about all of our food items that are packaged in plastic containers – Mom’s yogurt and cottage cheese, all the cheese, really, spices, herb rubs, Mom’s cookies, the heat-it-in-its-own-plastic-bowl side dishes that are so handy. Hubby mentioned that most food cans are lined with similar material. And the frozen vegetables are packaged in plastic bags – maybe not so troublesome since the food is not hot when it’s put in them, but what about the new “steam-in” bags?

And while this feels a bit histrionic, I can’t help but think about the Ancient Romans and all the handy uses they had for lead. It looks like my spring cleaning will begin a little early this year, kicking off with The Great Plastic Purge of 2014. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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Tony Hillerman, Psychics, and Dementia

Tony Hillerman wrote wonderful mystery novels set in and around the Navajo reservations. I remember discovering them around the same time I discovered Native American flute music, and listening to it while reading Hillerman put me right there inside the book. As far back as I can remember, I’ve been interested in spirituality and spirits and ghosts and all things unseen and unknowable. I was particularly interested in Hillerman’s account of the Navajo attitude regarding death, ghosts or spirits, and the afterlife. What I remember most is that when someone dies, family or friends knock a hole in the back of that person’s home in order to let the bad spirit(s) out. They believe that at death all that is good in that person travels forward to the desired afterlife, shedding all the bad parts and leaving them behind. If one encounters a loved one’s ghost, it can only bring harm, because it is made up of all the unpleasant or even nasty parts of that person’s personality that were left behind.

I occasionally visit local psychics, card readers, intuitives – whatever they might call themselves – for readings. (Not the ones at dedicated storefronts with big neon hands on display – those are generally the ones that try to convince you of a curse and sell you an egg to put under your pillow to draw away the evil or somesuch – but that’s another blog post entirely.) I take my notebook and write everything down. The few times that I remember actual predictions having been made or hinted at, nothing has come to pass, but they’ve still been entertaining. Most often, the readings are more empathic, emotional insight kinda stuff, a sort of oral, mental Rörschach that I use to gauge my mental/emotional/spiritual inner status.

In December, I visited Madelyn, a reader/medium at Celestial Circle in Palm Harbor, and while we touched on several things, the one most related to this post was about Mom. She talked about Mom spending a lot of time in the spirit world, drawing strength for a new journey. Now, Mom sleeps a lot. She goes to bed at 8:30 or 9:00 every night. If she’s going to the Senior Center, she sets her alarm to get up at 6:00 am, but if not, she is likely to sleep in until, oh, 8:30 or 9:00 – a solid twelve hours’ sleep. Plus she naps on and off throughout the day when she’s at home. That’s a lot of sleeping.

Talking with Madelyn got me thinking about the stories I’ve read from other caregivers who talk about how their loved one’s personality changes, generally for the worst, the farther the slide into dementia. Kind, loving people become hateful and mean to those who are closest to them, the caregivers trying to make them comfortable and happy. And that got me thinking about Tony Hillerman’s stories and how the Diné view death and spirits. And that got me wondering if people with dementia are maybe already spending a lot of their time “on the other side” in a very long transition process, since their synaptic connections are deteriorating more quickly than the rest of their bodies. And maybe when they’re visiting, all that’s left behind to interact on the physical plane are the yucky parts that will eventually be left completely behind.

With Mom, even if she may be visiting the other side while she’s sleeping, when she’s awake, she’s still all here, because she is still the sweetest, most loving person I’ve ever known. But I think it’s a very interesting idea. Maybe I’ll ask her to tell me about some of her dreams sometime.

 

 

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Gracie and Sophie Update

Gracie & Sophie share a bed 1.31.14

Although we still don’t trust them to behave when they’re alone in the house, Gracie and Sophie are on their way to becoming fast friends. Sophie has adapted quite well to the doggie door, using it for her own purposes, but she does not yet have any idea of what MY purposes for the doggie door are, and I continue to clean up small messes, even having bought a low-end Swiffer (just the stick, no attached spray bottle) to make the clean-ups a little easier. If she were a Great Dane, I’m sure we would be more motivated to watch the Potty Training video we got from Petsmart, but last night we watched Ender’s Game instead.

Sophie Loves The Mama 2.1.14

Sophie loves The Mama and doesn’t seem to mind her new short haircut, but she really didn’t like the t-shirt. It came off shortly after her modeling session.

Sophie's hernia 2.14.14

A couple of days ago, we noticed a small bulge on her lower abdomen. Yesterday morning, the vet confirmed that she has an inguinal hernia. It is not an emergency situation, but it is something that needs to be addressed before it develops into one. We have scheduled her surgery for Monday morning. It is a relatively minor surgery and her recovery time should be no more, and perhaps even a little less, than when she was spayed.

I guess it’s not just the free dogs that turn out to be the expensive ones.

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Shopping Hazards

cotton bag resized

As part of my on-going effort to learn more about tarot, I draw a single card every morning after my journaling session as my “card of the day.” The deck I’m currently using is the Gilded Tarot, and I noticed on our last trip that the zipper on the small bag I have been using to house it had broken. Yesterday, I got out of work a little early, so I headed over to Serenity Now in Palm Harbor to get a replacement bag similar to the one above (one of many available on-line from this vendor).

If you’ve never been to Serenity Now, it’s a wonderful little shop on Tampa Rd, near U.S.19, and a great place to buy much more than you had originally intended when you walked through the door. I give as proof, the following additional purchases, each absolutely necessary for me to have at that particular place and time.

sandalwood mala

I have a small mala I keep in small bag (much like the one at the top of the page, but blue) that mostly lives in my purse. I have been wanting one to keep on my nightstand. I found this one made of sandalwood beads. It feels and smells really nice.

motivation candle

During my morning writing, I sometimes like to burn scented candles as an aid to concentration. Serenity Now sells these “Reiki energy charged” candles in different colors, scents, and energy charges. This one purports to be charged with the energy of Motivation. It also smells very nice with its noted blend of sunflowers, myrrh, and frankincense.

Seeds of Light Prosperity earrings

These “Prosperity and Abundance” earrings from Seeds of Light (I also have one of their very nice selenite pendants) are made with emerald, citrine, peridot, amythyst, and Austrian Crystal beads. According to the card they were mounted on, “Emerald and Citrine complement each other by attracting prosperity and abundance in all things. Peridot opens up new doors of opportunity and Amethyst awakens our psychic ability and intuition allowing the prosperity to flow in.” All that in a little pair of bright and shiny earrings I’d wear anyway just ’cause they’re so pretty!

I’d checked Louise Hay’s classic You Can Heal Your Life from the library sometime last year and after reading it, decided I wanted a copy of my own. Yesterday was the day for it, too.

Guardian Angel spray

And last, but not least, Guardian Angel Spray from The Crystal Garden, Inc., a spray scented with essential oils to help us remember that guardian “Angels of Love and Light” are always surrounding us. The bottle I purchased actually had an extra label noting that it was additionally infused with the energy of Archangel Chamuel, of whom I had never heard until that moment. The shop’s owner, Brooke, directed me to an article by Doreen Virtue in the current freebie mag at the front of the store, that talked of Chamuel being the angel who helped people find that things they need to find. Since “lost in my house” is a term well-known to all my friends, I decided to continue with my Fiesta of Suspension of Disbelief and go with this, too.

This morning in the bright light of day, I do not have buyer’s remorse for any of these wonderful things. I haven’t balanced my checkbook, yet, though…..

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When Do You Know It’s Time?

Photo from longtermhomecare flickr

Photo from longtermhomecare flickr

My mother’s mother passed away when Mom was only 11. My mother’s father and my father’s mother passed away within months of each other when I was 4. Dad’s dad lived into his 90’s, but under the care of Dad’s oldest sister, hundreds of miles away from where we lived. I vaguely remember visiting Mom’s Grandma Pepper in a nursing home in Louisiana when I was 4 or 5, and maybe a couple of years later, too. She lived well into her 90’s as well, and at one point one of her sons went to live at the same nursing home.

I don’t have any model or template for what I’m supposed to do or when I’m supposed to do it. When I volunteered with hospice, I did respite visits with a woman with Alzheimer’s who had a live-in caregiver, paid for out of the reserved funds she and her husband had accumulated over their lifetimes. Her grown sons lived in the area, but they visited infrequently, having had a somewhat strained relationship with her their entire lives. They were more than happy to give her care over to a paid caregiver and felt their responsibility was adequately discharged through their management of her assets for her care.

Mom doesn’t have any assets. The small amount of savings she had was wiped out with her hospitalization and rehab care last spring. She receives her Social Security check every month, which covers her medicines, the home health aide bath visits, and the Adult Daycare tuition, part of which is covered by the center’s scholarship fund. There are no monies for a live-in care giver, or even for the bath lady to come more often. The really nice assisted living/nursing homes are upwards of $3000 per month, and they don’t accept Medicaid, which Mother doesn’t even qualify for unless/until she actually enters a nursing home.

Sophie, our newest addition to the household, continues to pee in the kitchen, in a very specific area. Mother does not, and has not for the past 3+ years, followed my request that she visit the bathroom BEFORE she goes into the kitchen to take her medicine. The area where Sophie pees is the pathway Mother takes from the dining table to the bathroom after taking her meds. This morning, there was a puddle MUCH larger than Sophie would ever be capable of making. Sometimes Mother realizes that she’s had an accident and I find a tortured hand towel thrown in the corner in her bathroom. This morning, evidently, she didn’t realize that she had done so, and then proceeded to walk through it more than once. Sophie managed to pee outside all day yesterday, but before I could get Mom’s puddle cleaned up this morning, Sophie had added one of her own. I know she’s just trying to fit into the pack, peeing where everyone else pees. It’s really hard to get mad at her when that area of the kitchen floor evidently smells exactly like a doggie urinal.

Yet again, I asked Mom to PLEASE go to the bathroom BEFORE she takes her medicine. And again, she agreed. She always agrees. And then she always walks right past the bathroom to the dining room to take her morning meds, often leaving a tell-tale trail that I don’t even notice by the time that I get home because she’s either wiped it up (e.g. smeared it around) or been totally oblivious to it and it has just dried on its own through the course of the day. But while I may not realize it’s there, Sophie totally does.

My cousins, Mom’s sister’s daughters, placed my aunt in a nursing facility when they realized she had stopped bathing. Mom hasn’t bathed herself in over 7 years (I don’t know how much longer than that it has been, because she only came to live with me 7 years ago and she hadn’t been bathing for awhile by then). When she would never agree to shower time with me, I finally hired someone to come in, and Mom has adjusted to that routine. But my aunt also had a lot of other health issues, including being on oxygen for advanced emphysema/COPD. Mom, on the other hand, is very healthy for her age, her only issues really being her balance (she uses a walker now, mostly), moderate dementia, incontinence, and regular episodes of enuresis.

I read about people caring for their loved ones in advanced stages of illness, spoon-feeding them, toileting them or even changing their diapers, giving them sponge baths, and generally providing intensive long-term care in the home. But I haven’t had that kind of model and I’m not sure just where my turning point is. We’ve made adjustments for bedwetting, with extra pads and underpads and several sets of sheets, but if I don’t check, she won’t tell me. She just leaves the covers turned back so the bed will dry out before she goes back to sleep in it the next night. It’s evidently not a problem for her. And the big puddles on the floor are not a problem for her. And her falling sometimes because she doesn’t always use her walker the way she should are not a problem for her. But these are all adding up to a problem for me. Does anyone ever know which straw is the last one before its added on top?

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