Last Weekend

Spectacular weekend. No I didn't do anything special. I did however get my list of weekend chores completed. Things like—filling the bird feeder, polishing shoes, sealing the tile in the shower—that kind of stuff.  I finished grocery shopping, went to church, had dinner with Mom, watch a recorded show, and found time to write.

  Sounds ordinary. It was. Ordinary is new for me. Not since chemotherapy started, over a year ago, have I had the kind of weekend described above. Two weeks before, I went to Apple Hill on Saturday and then became too sick on Sunday to go anywhere. In September, I scheduled twenty minute naps throughout the day just to function. Six months prior, I did not function. I worked and slept, occasionally eating.

Today, I am almost, but not completely, normal. Well normal for me. The result is a small feeling of—dare I say—happiness. To me I have had a profound revelation that my happiness is tied into how many active hours of life that I can squeeze into a day. So many years I have believed that the feeling of blessedness related to my attitude, other people, events, things, and the weather.

It is no surprise to anyone that knows me that I am a miserable and obnoxious sick person.  Those of you that can rise above a devastating illness and wear a smile, I salute you. I expect more out of breathing in and out. I expect a strong healthy body. When I lost my strength, my health, and cognitive capabilities, I nearly did not fight the good fight.

I am thankful I am finding me again.

A New Old Gadget

I traveled to Apple Hill with my church friends. The crowds caused us to spend more time in the car than in the actual orchards.  At our second stop, I managed to find a couple frozen pies to bring home. In a corner of the barn, a nice farmer demonstrated a apple peeler and slicer combo gadget.  As my neighbor just gifted six pounds of Granny Smiths, the novelty of zipping through those puppies with the help of a machine caused me to part with $29.95 plus tax. 

Excited, I hurried to join my friends and show off my new tool. No sooner that I sat down, Doris pointed out that the gadget came with free apples. With my receipt, I went back to claim my prize. With pride I filled my bag with five pounds of Pippens. I walked back, sat down, and realized I have eleven pounds of apples to make into something. I mean...cook. Dom Dom dah.

Undaunted, I went home and put the gadget to work on my kitchen counter. Stabbing and spinning the apples was fun. But now I had a bowl filled to the rim with browning apple spirals. Something had to be done. I pulled pre-formed graham cracker crusts from the pantry and started layering apple slices, flour, sugar, cinnamon, and butter. When the pile domed, I mixed instant hot oatmeal and maple cereal with melted butter to form a crumble crust. I popped that puppy in the oven at 350 degrees. 

My kitchen wiped out. I'm a messy cook. I saw that there were still enough apples to feed the local kindergarten. Which in retrospect would have been a great idea. Instead I filled another graham shell and repeated the process. Apples, apples every where. I emptied the sink full of peels and cores three times. Finally, reason took hold. I remembered my apple butter recipe. 

I baked nine spiraled apples wrapped in aluminum foil. Threw all of the squishy baked goodness and the subsequent juices into my Shark blender with tons of cinnamon and a dash on Algave syrup. Apple Butter. Yummy and the apples are gone.  I still have frozen pies to eat.