Turdogin'

Oh, no! -Not you, again!

 "Too much of a good thing can be taxing!" Mae West

Last week, in preparation for that sometimes lonely day after Turkey Day, my neighbor, Maureen, who knew she wouldn't be with family, wanted to buy a small turkey and trimmings for a day-after celebration. Thus began what I'll call the Turdogin' Episode.

We walked to Whole Foods on Sunday, to buy the bird, about a mile round trip (good exercise for the dogs, we figured.) It was a sunny morning in Denver, so we sat outside the store and enjoyed coffee. We toured the store, window shopping and buying side dishes. We walked back home, satisfied, if broke, with turkey, trimmings and dogs in custody.

Next day Maureen called, to say our captive bird was already quite defrosted, an unexpected, possibly dangerous, development. Walked back to Whole Foods (with dogs in tow, even though, by this time, they were getting tired of these excursions.) -Exchanged the less frozen turkey for a rock solid bird. Walked home with said critters, dogs and bird in, tow. Thus ended our very own annual Turkey Trot.

Next thing on my agenda was a perfectly lovely dinner with my family -- I ate a lot of turkey. Just after I returned home, another neighbor, Ross, came over bearing ... guess what? Oh yeah, piles of turkey (I still loved turkey, at that point, so, all good.)
Early the following day Maureen baked the New Turkey. We had planned to have dinner later in the afternoon. My cell phone rang at around 3:00 -- Maureen had struggled all day, to get the turkey baked, but her oven wasn't heating sufficiently! -Ran upstairs, wrapped the turkey in foil, brought it downstairs to finish cooking, while we watched, ironically, The Jazzy Vegetarian. -Ran to my apartment, to wrestle and fetch the wretched turkey upstairs. 

Got back upstairs to dinner, but, mysteriously, could not eat. (Plus I had my first taste of green bean casserole, which I can truly say is an experience I do not care to repeat.) I guess the dog ate too much turkey, too, because she had a tummy upset. You know who is in charge of taking care of that!

Last night Maureen showed up with, yep, piles of left over turkey. I don't think she meant it to be a cruel gesture, exactly. Thank you, God, for my freezer. -Spaghetti and meatballs, anyone?

My Thanks

We define and redefine gratitude throughout our lives. From the sleepy contentment of a child with a full tummy, to a mother's relief, when the paycheck covers a little extra something for her babies, to a grandparent's prayer for self-sufficiency, gratitude evolves. Sufficiency evolves continually, as well. We are moving so fast just we don't see the changes in our expectations. What is sufficient depends on so many factors, doesn't it? On a hundred-degree day it can be a sip of cool water.

Maybe during this season of obligations, stacked one on top of another, you're most grateful for the remains of the day. From this perspective, shoes off, feet up, even the kitchen clutter has a happy feel. It is the deep breath of peace, the afterglow. 

     
Elderly men and women living alone, may seek solace reflecting on holidays past. Or we're praying, just like our younger counterparts pray, we can stretch the food budget a little for a celebratory meal. This is my year of small rebellions. I thought, rather than bake breads and rolls on Thanksgiving morning for the family feast, I'd order brioche from a bakery down the street. The owner, Clarke, bakes classic French rolls and pastries -- they are superb! So the temptations of a luxurious sleep-in, leisurely bath and a buttered brioche Thanksgiving morning became irresistible. Reality hit in the cashier's line at the grocery store -- everything, from the dog's food to the ingredients for cranberry relish, was more expensive than I'd anticipated. 

To give thanks in solitude is enough. Thanksgiving has wings,

     and goes where it must go. Your prayer knows much more 

     about it than you do.   Victor Hugo

This morning, I walked the dogs past the bakery, to pay my tab and cancel my holiday order. I swallowed my pride and apologized to Clarke, saying my budget hadn't quite stretched to include rolls. As we walked home, I resigned myself to the tasks of the week ahead, including the bread baking. Within an hour or so, a phone call came from the bakery -- the order was paid, and would be ready to pick up as arranged! I couldn't recall paying. Either my memory is shot, or somebody picked up the tab for the bread of Thanksgiving. 

Another shop in my neighborhood, a boutique for cats and dogs, has hired me to work all four weekends in December, so Christmas will be a time of plenty, rather than worry. I'm so grateful for the people in my life, for my family and extended family, who support me wholeheartedly. I wish each of you, my readers, a lasting ahhhhhhhh!

Joie de Vivre

Oooooh, Mr. Napoleon, Madame Josephine, I think I love you!

I ask you dear readers, where is this world headed? In today's news the famous (now, probably, infamous) Hostess people want to close down. What was your favorite Hostess confection? Before I wax nostalgic, today's news simultaneously brought us the Death of Twinkie and word of the French government's tax (maybe already enacted) on Nutella, a product of Italy. So the 'O' word is being used a great deal today. No, sillies, O for Obesity, not that other word, the one you use to describe satisfaction approaching sexual satiation. Hmmm, mmm.

Remember the book from years ago, "French Women Don't Get Fat"? If you'd traveled to only the chic places in Europe, you might have bought it. Otherwise, not so much. Ah, but, before you judge (or flat out guffaw,) the author, Mireille Guillano, made an excellent case for enjoying life, and doing so, comfortable in one's own skin. I'm overweight, according to all the physicians' charts in Europe and America, and I happen to be an exceptional cook, having mastered many French techniques and classic dishes. So, of course, I was delighted with the book, if not so thrilled in the fitting room at Bloomingdale's.

I've worked my entire life toward greater and greater self-control, making good choices, and the difference between being regulated and being smart. Today I'm thinking this man, Hollande, is trying to rob the French of their national heritage, Joie de Vivre. In my experience, you either have it, or you do not. I'm not certain Socialists have it; it would be considered decadent.

Don't let the mere issue of Nutella and it's contents (mostly palm oil and sugar) divert your attention, though, from all that Mr. Hollande is bringing to the governance of France. He is now begging the French not to leave France. If it were me, he'd have to do better than appeal to abstracts, especially at dinner time.  My point here, however, is, if you think our government isn't looking at his plan, you're dead wrong. Here's a link, which may give you an idea of what's on the table in France (no pun intended):
http://beforeitsnews.com/economy/2012/09/france-unveils-combat-budget-2453642.

So, what we're talking about, people, is regulation. What aspects of my life am I willing to have regulated and under what circumstances, for what "reasons." I think the government always has its reasons, which have little to do with you or me.

The Unkindest Cut of All

It is utterly false and cruelly arbitrary to put all the play and learning into childhood, all the work into middle age, and all the regrets into old age. Margaret Mead

This lovely lady and her dog, no matter how one feels about the elderly driving, are out and about ... together. The pup looks appropriately alarmed. Where are their peeps? Who knows?

     When I lived among much older residents of Miami Beach, so many were so alone; if the time had come to stop driving, nobody was going to accompany them, take them out for a coffee, see they got home safely. One of my neighbors became disoriented, while driving. She and her car ended up in the swimming pool. 

     Later in Denver's senior housing, I saw more than simple abandonment. I played ball with my little dog out on the lawn, while families dropped their elderly into the laps of people who neglected and exploited them. A daughter or son in middle age, would arrive, unload an elder and his/her furniture and possessions, help to buy the first round of groceries for the new apartment, pull away from the curb, rarely, if ever, return.  

     One woman's daughter kept getting pulled back by the police, who were tired of talking her lost mother into their cars and taking her home. One man stopped to see his mother, after she'd started a fire in her apartment with an old toaster oven. The toaster oven vanished, and the lady began to eat her meals out of her freezer. The manager and the lady's neighbors waited patiently, until she had to transfer to assisted care, then, stole her china, silver flatware, crystal and picture frames. Oh, and, of course, the remains of her groceries.

     Elders don't need anyone to hover, not even if we are in extremis! We don't need sympathy, even when we are hurt or hurting. A phone call once in a while,  just to say hello, a cup of coffee or lunch out, a movie once a month ... would be terrific! Better yet, empower an elder to learn new things, to explore or to work at a paid or volunteer job. By all means, if an elder family member or friend helps with a project, house sitting, child or dog sitting, or shares expertise, offer to pay. One of the worst assumptions is that, because we are older, we don't need to be compensated in cash, or in kind for work we do.

     One of my neighbors calls me, when she's going shopping. She doesn't ask whether I need this or that. She asks, wouldn't I like to go shopping. I love that she thinks it's fun to have me along. The smallest things make seniors happy ... an elderly neighbor of mine at Higgins Plaza was thrilled, when I brought her an extra sandwich, fruit and chips from an event I'd attended. It cost me nothing, nada, zip, zilch. 

     I have a friend, who has taken a position with an organization dedicated help people stay independent, well and in their homes. What about the money, did you ask? Yes, the service costs money, but, maybe it can serve as a model for what non-profit organizations can do to improve the quality of life of elders, and how to go about helping people achieve more and more, not less and less, independence. Of course, there are limits, but even someone suffering from dementia needs the right kind of help at the right time. We all need dignity and unconditional loving.

Show some love, but know that it isn't the same thing as charity. 

How Now?

How did you weather it all ... the hurricane, the Nor'easter, the general election? Or, perhaps, I should ask how are you weathering it all? Reasonably well, I hope. With the ink barely dry on U.S. ballots, the minions of doom are pointing to the fiscal sword of Damocles hanging overhead. One critic decries, among other things, the promotion of government "largess" over private industry. Government largess ... let's think about this term for a moment. It sounds good, but is that what American voters were really choosing, and were we choosing largess, i.e., extreme generosity, not an enlightened approach to human needs? And, why would that be contrary to the interests of private enterprise?

I've never found it very comforting, when people have said, "You're not alone." My thought is always, "I never, for a moment, thought I was alone, and it's not a cheery thought!" In the global economic scheme of things, we are not alone. Perhaps there are lessons we can learn from other nations struggling with the same issues. Some people are committed to the belief that only a tremendous private industry growth spurt will save us from impending disaster. Many are still committed to imposing austerity programs on the struggling remainder of the society ... the young, elderly, disabled, immigrants, un- and under-employed. We've come to use terms like entitlement, which mis-characterize programs such as Social Security.

The next siren's song encourages private sector growth and promoting America's energy exploration and independence over environmental concerns. That's a toughie, especially while Americans take the brunt of widespread natural disasters and consider the implications of oil extraction methods such as hydraulic fracturing (fracking.)

France has Gallois, a former CEO in the European aerospace industry, who has developed a plan to increase that country's competitive standing in industry.  With a ten percent national unemployment rate, even France's socialist government may have little choice but to listen and concede. But one journalist's suggestion that the U.S. have a serious look at Gallois' twenty-two step program are missing a couple of facts, we do not have what he terms competitive stagnation, nor do we have a national ten per cent unemployment rate.

We have Simpson-Bowles. I'm certain of one thing. The Simpson-Bowles deficit reduction plan would, in the words of Senator Harry Reid, "mess with Social Security." It is easier to see in a graphic form, but, using the Chained CPI would lower social security benefits for all Social Security beneficiaries now and in the future. The cuts become deeper, as beneficiaries age. This represents a triple-whammy for women, who are generally less well-off than men, and are, therefore, more reliant upon Social Security benefits, and who live longer than their male counterparts.

Men won't be unaffected by any means, and Social Security retirement won't be the only program affected. Ah, but, wait for it! The planners tout an increase in revenues. Unfortunately it will not come close to offsetting the effects of the cuts. President Obama fades from view, when looming fiscal crisis rears its ugly head, something he can no longer afford -- no pun intended. He started his first term, almost right out of the box, using social security retirement and disability recipients, along with active duty military, as bargaining chips. Here we all are, back to Debt 101 with nasty, some would say, unacceptable decisions looming.

While I was thinking how to close a post about the election and impending fiscal doom, a friend offered this:  "After the words, In God We Trust, we should add We'd Better."  It seemed better than "You move your own cheese." and "You pack your own chute."  The cheese reeks, we're in fiscal free fall, and the time to pack the parachute is long past.