Author: alwaysbridging

I’m sure I’ve alluded to Rob’s propensity to operate thoughtfully and methodically. That’s why I was pleased to hear he’d almost bought a car while I was away last week. First his beloved van conked out again. And he had time without me around to peruse the dealership and get his questions answered. He’d checked Consumer Reports (again!) as well as our finances.

Surprisingly, I’ve quickly released the idea that this new car is primarily mine. Since he was downsizing from his almost 20-year-old vehicle, I thought he’d prefer to pile up our larger, more industrial Crosstrek with his tools and bee paraphernalia.

But no. He found the EUV—Electric Utility Vehicle (ha!)—Chevy Bolt, with it’s 6 cubic feet of additional space. He convinced me late one night over the phone while I was still on the Olympic Peninsula saying simply, “Penny, I want to drive a new car.”

This one’s a good match for him. It’s fun to watch him throw open the skylight and excelerate. Could this be mid-life? I’ve heard him exclaim several times, “I’m an electrical engineer, after all.”

Happy Birthday, Rob Reid.

What a start to Holy Week.

Carolina whizzed through yesterday to roast prime rib for her Dad’s birthday. Talk about a feast day!

Hanging with the Ann/e’s

Déjà vu! This is just wild. Here I am at Cloud Nine, a resort-like residence in the foothills above Port Angeles with three of my very best girlfriends of all times.

Forty-some years ago, after epic shenanigans in Seattle and it’s gorgeous wilderness surroundings, we started having babies and settled on four different paths. We’ve had limited contact for decades.

Here though, we have reconvened with grace. We have picked up where we left off, so to speak. We have hiked. Shopped. Feasted. Wow, have we feasted! And the stories. Holy Mackerel! We’ve shown badges and revealed scars accumulated over precious lifetimes…amidst much laughter…and tears too.

It’s been movie-like. I’m thinking of the “Big Chill.” But it didn’t take a funeral to draw us together. Grateful to say, our magnetic love-fields in the land of the living are stronger than that.

Delightful Dementia

Have you ever played games with me? Then you know I’m competitive. A bit of a stickler for the rules too. Plus I know how to cheat. And, to my credit, I can choose a game that fits developmentally, for the youngsters at least.

But what about for the young-at-heart? And the young-in-mind? Is this proclivity transferable?

What does it take to loosen up and play with the elders? Let them skip turns? And really enjoy how they encourage each other with a “Good job!” every now and then. I even noticed when one of Mom’s friends remembered another detail about playing dominoes.

My need to control relaxed. So did my heart. “Cheating” at its best ruled the day.

After two-plus hours on the phone hunting down Mom’s delinquent 1099 and an appointment with her podiatrist, we definitely deserved a reward. Kid cones at Dick’s would not suffice.

So I introduced her to shrimp boats: open-faced white bread slathered with mayonnaise and piled high with crustaceans and leafy lettuce, all bathed in fresh dill and lemon juice.

After returning from Norway, I found the simple delicacy at Scandinavian Specialties in Ballard near Mom’s adult family home.

She lapped up every morsel. Who knew? I’d wager she likes the Lapland specialty as much as she adores ice cream and crab cakes.