The last Christmas cookie & new year stuff

I just ate the last Christmas cookie standing at the sink waiting for my toast to pop up. It was unintended. Also medicinal. I waited too long to have breakfast and was starting to crash. The fact we still had one Christmas cookie left on January 4 should be noted. I baked a double batch of peanut butter cookies with the chocolate stars in the center. They were delicious and I didn’t burn nary a one. I really thought there would be more left because the tin with the blue ornaments on top was pushed back on the counter and I really thought it was full. But no, my husband found the tin and clearly has been sneaking cookies. I’m sure he’s just been eating them to save me from high glucose readings. Right? Right.

I’m okay now. I intended to start the day with my all new routine…but I got lost in my bookshelves looking for books about rabbits because my friend Lillian reminded me it’s the year of the Rabbit. I have a few children’s books but no Watership Down, by Richard Adams, which is what I expected to find. I thought maybe I should read it again this year. I was very young when I first read it on the advice of my mother who wanted someone to discuss the book with. That was back in the mid 1970’s I think. I need to read about the year of the rabbit. I might have to organize my Pinterest board too. Anyway…

It’s 2023. Normally I’d be considering resolutions and a word for the year, which if I’m honest, I never really kept up with the impossibilities I set for myself. I’m sure there are blog posts to prove that. Let’s not look back.

I’m not working at an outside job anymore so to combat my tendency to waste the days away in my very small world at home I am thinking of things to do that will get me out amongst people and the world beyond my home’s walls. For instance there’s some programs at the library. Well that’s all the further I’ve gotten. I know I want to write. I know I want to make art. For sure I will garden. Those are all the comfortable things to think about. There are also the shoulds. I should have a better diet, exercise, go to the dentist and the gynecologist, and get out in the world and people more, like to church, the library, possibly going to a few thrift stores etc. because I have a bunch of items I need to sell. And I can see again.

I put off a lot of stuff because I just couldn’t see. I had cataracts and finally had surgery in 2022. I did drive with horrible vision. Thank God nothing happened! But I limited my route to only the very very familiar, and had my husband drive for most everything else. I’m able to read paper books again for the most part of the print isn’t too tiny. I have some clouds still but nothing like it was and for the most part I can see pretty darn clearly, especially far away. I’ll write more about the specifics soon.

So the other traditional first of the new year thing I do is set my book challenge number on Goodreads. I decided on just a few more than last year-55. And adding to the challenge I’m going to read from my book stash, pic below, unread books that have gathered on my shelves. I’ve put them in alpha order by author on a shelf that is front and center. Most are older, given to me by my daughter, or purchased at thrift stores or book sales, or inherited from my mother. I’m starting there. She had a stack of books on her computer desk that I took when we worked on cleaning out the house. She read headier stuff than I have ever read so we’ll see if I make it through. (I’ll use her 100 page rule.)

So here we go, a new year, a fresh start. It’s a little somber because we’ve recently lost some favorite people but we are blessed to have known them just a little. So I’ll muddle through and hope to do my best each day of 2023.

Ralph A. Moehrke

On November 10, 2021, very early in the morning my father, Ralph A. Moehrke passed away in his room in the nursing home where he didn’t really like to be. There was a CNA with him because he had asked for help getting to the bathroom. My youngest sister who lives locally was called, and she called my brother who had just arrived for a visit with our Dad from Seattle. The two of them went to the nursing home right away. A few hours later as daylight broke they started making calls to let the rest of us know our Dad was gone.

I was close to my mother but my Dad and I were closer. Not always but in the most important ways. I had honestly prayed for relief for him. He was 92 and was wasting away. He had been hospitalized with Covid19 in December 2020 and had been transferred to rehab then to the nursing home, just blocks from his home, the house where we were raised. His sense of taste never fully returned and without my mother to cook for him and goad him into eating he started losing weight. A shocking amount of weight seemingly dropped off him and was very apparent to those of us who didn’t see him much. Eating became a chore for him I think and we all tried to tempt him with favorites.

Dad’s death certificate says he died of a heart attack. I blame Covid19. He never really recovered and had lasting effects. I try hard not to blame the person who exposed him to the virus when they entered his home without a mask. Dad was careful. When I went through his endless pocket packets-the notes he kept close to wherever he sat-many had Covid19 info copied in his familiar handwriting. We can’t know for sure what the exposure was. And really, Dad wanted to be with our mother. He said he was ready.

Was I ready for Dad to be gone? To get that call in that early morning hour? No. No I was not. It’s been a year now and tears still grab me hard and fast as I remember moments and regrets. It turns out that the stories I thought I was tired of are what I wish for, long for. My Dad knew everything as many dads do and I wish I could call him one more time or turn back time and just plain call him more often to listen to his stories, ask him questions, and let him know again how much I love him.

Blog Bottom Advice (I should have taken): Call home, call often. It’s not about me, it’s about the ones we love.