Don’t say I can’t!

One of my English women’s magazines has an article entitled “don’t say I can’t” which is usually about some 40-something deciding to take another job, go into another field, do something unusual like jumping off a cliff, etc.

The general gist is that simply because she is a woman and perhaps past her prime according to many, there is no reason why she can’t start a new life, take up a new hobby or job, go somewhere she’s never been and the like.

For me it is usually connected to that idiot phrase “you’re a women, so you shouldn’t….” and I am sure that all my female friends can find plenty of endings to that phrase!

Living alone I occasionally try and line up “heavy” jobs for my younger son, but inevitably he is either traveling or I forgot to ask and something needs to go out, etc. Sometimes I can wait until Friday and enlist the help of my cleaning lady: another woman who does more “manly” things than is deemed appropriate. Between the two of us we have moved heavy stones, unplugged drains, tossed out beds – whatever needs to be done.

On my own I have been known to put an entire sofa out on the curb for pickup on the cumbersome objects day, which we enjoy once a month (flip over, roll end to end depending upon the piece or simply drag). In short I can do a lot without having to enlist the help of that stronger male.

Latest to date? I arrived a one of my local department stores and noticed that amongst the decoration things that they were selling at very good prices was an iron bench. Perfect for the garden I thought. OK only have my small Polo but it looked like it would fit (I also can estimated sizes and volumes rather well!) so I bought it, moved the car down to the floor that it was on and dragged it the twenty meters or so. Getting it into the car (it fit perfectly once I had both seats down with a few centimeters to spare) was more leveraging it up and in.

And so it goes – one does what one needs to, male or female!

now to get the cushion!

Food, or

One of the things I love about Switzerland

Food is one of life’s majors – not enough and one starves; too much and one becomes slightly or grossly overweight.

Therefore it is obviously of great importance to most of us, if not perhaps the first thing that comes to mind in any given day.

Those who know me, know that I like almost everything and am willing to attempt just about anything else (ok still can’t bring myself to sample insects although as a child I happily consumed chocolate covered ants).

I have had snails: drowned out by the garlic sauce

I have had oysters: slimy and got a bad one the first two times I tried, the third they were great so I stopped there.

I haven’t had frog’s legs but have heard that they simply taste like chicken.

I have had offal and the ones I didn’t know what they were were o.k. The though though has not had me inclined to indulge more.

I have had rabbit and horse meat: again unknowingly – fine at the moment, but I do avoid if there are other choices.

Haven’t met a cheese I didn’t like and although most wines are decent I now only drink those that I really like.

The past few days though have been rather a hodge podge of things I really, really like.

Saturday, son two and I had Indian in an Indian restaurant frequented by Indians.

Monday I had something I hadn’t had before: lentil moussaka with goats’ cheese topping.

Tuesday I went to Zurich with a friend and had veal in cream sauce with rösti (a better version of hash browns) and later in the afternoon one of the most decadent slice of chocolate desserts that I have ever had, and believe me I have sampled a few in my lifetime!

Eating gold at Sprungli in Zurich

They even write in the cappuccinos!

Wednesday it was kangaroo cooked on a hot slate, and today it was sushi.

All this and much more is readily available in Switzerland.

We even have decent vegetarian and vegan with more small places springing up.

Within a 5-minute drive I can get Thai, traditional French, gourmet French, pizzas straight out of pizza ovens, fondue and raclette, perch, great beef.

Am I hungry yet – no – lunch was sufficient but later I’ll enjoy perhaps some squash soup, some hummus and celery sticks or fennel.

Life, when it comes to my stomachis very fine indeed!

Blank or….

Wasted time, or...

The day I did nothing.

Ever have one of those days where you have no appointments, nothing urgent needing done, a lovely blank time. These don’t happen often in my life, but thanks to my protestant upbringing and totally ingrained work ethics I never seem to really enjoy them unless it’s

a weekend day.

Today I have managed to fritter away having “accomplished” nothing more than my morning coffee; chatting with a worker as they dismantled and hauled away the 4-5 story cement maker that has been standing across the street for over a year as they built 6 small apartment buildings; my afternoon coffee; a few video games; a meal at home (that’s what probably did it – no plans for lunch – what happened?); and now I prepare to pick up my car, which was in for its yearly service and go to dinner with friends.

OK perhaps I could label it a social day instead of a nothing-accomplished-day!

from "My Creative Shop" https://www.mycreativeshop.com/templates/posters/blank

Joy

Several years ago I couldn’t resist and bought a National Geographic page-by-page calendar with sayings and photos: one for each day of the year.

There are many markers in this calendar and I find that from time to time looking up a particular day never grows old. As is usual the calendar is divided into 12 months with each month being dedicated to, for want of a better word, an emotion. The entire calendar was called a year of serenity and February’s theme: Joy

This last day of the month was a citation from Marguerite Yourcenar, a Belgium author, poetess, and translator amongst other talents. Her name, although looking rather Arab is simply a reinvention of her maiden name de Crayencour. “Every innocent joy is a reminder of Eden”.

One such is the fact, that were he still alive, a very good friend would have turned 100 today. My mother would have also reached that milestone this year – as would have many other parents of my current friends. It is a joy to recall the pleasure of friendship, the ties that bind us to family and friends.

May you all experience many joys today – look for them and they will find you.

From the "joy Jar" of the
Orfordville Lutheran Church

 It is fitting that the image I happened across to illustrate "joy" should come from a Lutheran church as one of my favorite bosses was a Lutheran pastor! Yet another of my many "life's little coincidences".

If only these sheets could talk…

I know, the usual expression is “if only these walls could talk” and I certainly never gave much thought to other items, which might be interesting until a couple of days ago.

I went to Martigny in the Valais to attend the yearly antique and flea market on Friday.

I managed to walk away without purchasing anything, until that very last trip around when I “cracked” for several old postcards of a place very dear to me: Les Marécottes. Never mind how much they cost, they will end up in a scrapbook of memories of that particular place – one that I discovered when I was 5 months pregnant with my first child and one to which I returned regularly until I stopped renting there a couple of summers ago. Life changes.

But that isn’t this story, other than to locate where I was this past weekend. Having decided that my own company was to be enjoyed (doesn’t happen often) I did not call any of my local friends, picked a hotel, went up to Sion to check out my favorite sights and stores there then returned to Martigny and the Forum hotel for the night. Had a lovely meal, slept well and was raring to go the next day.

All my haunts: breakfast at the Migros; buying a small Valais bread – so good when fresh; checking the Hiob – another second-hand store; looking for sofas; looking for slippers. All my favorites stores were duly visited. It was mid-morning by then and I wasn’t in the mood for the spa (not tired enough to lay about in warm water and doze in the sun) so simply continued to visit all the other stores that I regularly frequented on my trips to and from the mountains. All without purchasing a thing.

I also went to one of my favorite second-hand shops in Yvorne, but things have been changed around and half the things that interested me before are no longer stocked. Still it was here that I had a very interesting (bordering on weird) experience. Browsing upstairs in the table clothes, linens and the like area my eye was attracted to a comforter cover – red and orange plaid – just like one I had finally given away several years ago! Now that could have been coincidence as it was purchased in Switzerland and the chances that another like it could have also been put in one of the clothing bins or given to the Salvation Army are decently high, however, the one next to it was also an old one of mine – one that I had never seen anywhere else having been purchased in Germany.

If only they could tell me how they got from Geneva and my house to a second-hand store in another state: who used them? How many individuals gave them back? How did they finally come to be here? Oh the stories those two comforter covers could perhaps tell!

From the past

One for me…

And the mouse.

0 for Clea.

I have two cats and somehow with all the company, spoiling from my student and perhaps, yes, even age they seem to have reversed personalities.

If before Babette was intrepid, always wanting out, always bringing back “presents” (I try

and try to see them as that: not working) and in general being lively, she seems to have decided that the best place in the house is cuddled up next to me on the desk (underneath which is a small heater) or simply laying on my typing hand.

Clea, who never wanted to go out – unless one opened the door wide and waited for the whole house to cool down – is now the one to sneak out if the door is open. She is very good a finding “presents” and I should truly know by now that I need to check before I cave and let her in. I didn’t Sunday night. It didn’t dawn on me though that she had brought anything in with her until I heard her dashing around underneath the desk in the living room. Oh no.

Yet another “chase the mouse in hopes of rescuing it” game. And we all know how much I love those!

I ended up moving furniture, frames, footstools and the like. This time fortunately the mouse never got under the sofa (cornered in the wood box it did jump out, almost made it up a stair, did get downstairs in the cellar). I was finally able to catch it in my (long)handled dustpan and keep it there (third try) with the brush of same and got it outside, still alive. Like I said One for me and the mouse – zero for Clea. Won’t happen often if ever again, still I bask in the glow of achievement once in my life.

Nursery rhymes

Remember the one:

 

“Star light,

Star bright,

I wish I may

I wish I might

Have the wish

I wish tonight”

Now that is still a favorite but we need to invent one for the first snow.

The day when gentle flakes do their work of covering up the lack of

leaves in the trees; the dirt and mud on the ground; the absence of

flowers anywhere; fields empty of grains waving in the breeze.

OK since I grew up in Southern California maybe I missed the rhymes

That might have been prevalent in more northern climes – but I did an

Internet search and really didn’t come up with much at all.

Such is life

Time to invent my own.

“The wind grows chill,

The sky turns gray,

Winter is on its way,

Snow falls on the sill.”

Still doesn’t quite take in the beauty of that first snowfall

So I guess I’ll keep trying.

Snow in the neighborhood

street lamp and snowy branches

Leaving up the lights