Summer must be over. The bird bath is frozen in the mornings, the leaves are falling off the trees, and I finished my Summer Sludge this weekend. You know the stuff you make in the spring in an ice cream bucket with tea, frozen orange juice, lemonade, and a quart of vodka? Some people call theirs Slush, mine was sludge this year. I tried to use some expired orange juice which had really expired! Before I could stop, a small amount went into the mix. I wasnít going to throw away all that good vodka, so I bought a new can of O.J. and mixed it in and continued the process of freezing and stirring. It was OK, but I didnít offer it to friends or neighbors. Usually it lasts about a month; this lasted all summer.
An update on a couple of past columns: I had some e-mail suggestions to help my pasta mess out, and each time I thaw some out, I use one of the ideas to make it more palatable. Thanks to all who e-mailed me.
The woman who told me how to arrange closets also said to make your closet like a store. I thought that was a good idea so I stopped in the La Crosse Goodwill store to get some ideas.
I prepared (?) another paper bowl of soup for supper recently. Now that Iím used to the pops and thumps in the microwave process, it isnít so stressful. It was pretty good actually. I like the no dishes part of the meal. To be able to have a bowl of soup without washing anything except a spoon seems to be a great breakthrough for mankind as far as Iím concerned.
It used to be if someone invited me out to lunch, Iíd refuse and say something like, ďNo, thanks; Iíve got to go home.Ē Then I started thinking, ďWhy; whoís there?Ē I would guess that most widowed folks would tell you that mealtimes are the loneliest times of the day. Just to hear someone talking, even if it isnít to you, erases some of the loneliness. (Well, thereís the lack of cooking and dishwashing too.)
We often hear the phrase, ďthe tree of lifeĒ used to describe life philosophically. Life reminds me of apple trees. I donít claim to be any kind of philosopher, but this came to mind after losing two good friends, one an old Army buddy, and the other a local friend.
Sometimes the buds are frozen after a late spring frost and die off or never develop. Of course weíve all heard of bad apples, and Iíve known some Crab Apples over the years. I guess teenagers would be green apples. Iím in the Granny Smith age group.
As we go through life we ripen; although some apples develop diseases and donít mature. Most apples stay on the tree of life until they are fully ripened then they are picked or fall to the ground. I consider the ďAppleĒ that I lost a few years ago to be a Red Delicious; she was the apple of my eye.
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