Friday Tidings

Typically, I can make a decent loaf of zucchini bread. I add walnuts and call it healthy. So when I pulled the freshly baked loaf out of the oven (after it somehow needed an extra 20 minutes of bake time) it appeared done. I did the toothpick test to be sure. Yep, it came out clean. I placed the loaf on the rack to cool. When I came back to remove it from the pan, it had sunk in the middle. Never a hopeful sign. I took a large knife and cut through. Doughy in the middle. How was that even possible after over-baking it by 20 minutes? I slapped it back in the loaf pan and baked it another 20 minutes. It stubbornly refused to finish baking. Okay then, fine. Plan 3. I took my serrated knife and sliced it up, doughy middles and all. Placed the slices on a cookie sheet and threw it back in the oven for another 20 minutes. I tapped them with my finger. Yes indeed those zucchini bread slices seemed to have the texture of toasted croutons. Oh well. One of Tom’s awesome qualities is his a

I was about nine-years-old when the library love story happened. Mom was a college student by day, and worked Friday evenings and Saturdays in our town’s public library. The old library featured tall book shelves and several long tables for quiet study and reading.  One small table for two was situated by a side window. Mom told me that Mr. J would come in and sit there every Friday evening, reading the weekly edition of our local paper. Afterwards, he’d read one of his non-fiction choices—which most often was historical.  Mr. J was in his early 60’s and appeared to be a bit lonely. But then came Miss V.  She was new to town and was visiting the library to gather some books for her enjoyment. Mom saw Mr. J's eyes following them as she helped Miss V locate books on Pacific Northwest gardening.  Mr. J’s table had the closest vacant seat. Mom led Miss V over to the table. Without hesitation, Mr. J stood and nodded his welcome. Smiles were shared and whispered introductions. Mom went b

Wearing my 25th Wedding Anniversary Earrings It was a really sneaky, but loving effort on my husband Tom’s part. I was our business bookkeeper, keeping track of all our spending. So when Tom wanted to buy me a special diamond earring and necklace set for our 25th wedding anniversary, he used a buddy’s home address, and set up a payment plan with the jewelry store.  I never knew until on our anniversary when I opened the gift. I put on those earrings and never took them off. That was 17 years ago. This week we went to our daughter’s home to help out. Our grandson was having oral surgery and our active, nearly-three year old granddaughter needed to be watched while our daughter worked from home in her upstairs make-shift office. Our son-in-law took our grandson to the surgery. I confess, I went into active mode. I started by cleaning my nearly 16-year-old grandson’s room. He said he’d cleaned it some yesterday, but well, you know a teen boy's definition of clean.  I wanted him to be

Ever have a week that was literally packed? That was my week. Day One : We haven’t traveled the 350 miles to see Tom’s mother, Bernadean, since before Covid. We missed a whole year of seeing her—even the big celebration the family planned for her 90th birthday was put on hold. Now the trip was essential. We arrived at the hospital/rehab center where she has been since mid-January. Only Tom could go in—gloved, masked, and maintaining a 6-foot distance from his mother that he hasn’t seen in 14 months. They are strategizing the move that will happen in two days—from the home she once shared with her beloved husband, to the new condo-like home overlooking the city. It’s not assisted care—it’s independent living in a elder community. We’re here to make sure she gets everything from her home to make her new home feel every bit as good—maybe even better, because it’s easier for her. We bought boxes and packing paper—spending the next four hours carefully wrapping heirloom glassware. All