Breaking Drought

Like most of the Midwest, we've been in a drought. The only good thing about a drought is fewer mosquitoes.

Yesterday, the crunchy yellow grass that Zoe refuses to walk on ("L'il Tenderfoot") received a refreshing drink, like Niagara Falls. It was crazy. Parts of my city are now without power due to lightning. I was in the grocery store when the sirens went off, but for some reason, I was not alarmed.

Well, I was on a mission--a mission to bring home my daughter's favorite kind of yogurt cereal bar, the one I couldn't remember.

Background info: I bought a certain brand one week and she loved them. The next week, I tried to repeat this Great Act Of Motherliness for my beloved daughter, but I couldn't remember the brand and brought another brand home by mistake.

So yesterday, I texted her during the sirens and storm, "What was that original brand of yogurt bar I got you that you liked?"

She replied, "Idk. [I don't know.] haha."

I failed to see the humor, but I was, as I said, on a mission.

So I looked some more while people around me rushed to the front of the store to look outside and the employees were using mops to push water back out of the entry.

Whatever. I had bars to find.

So I texted her again about it, and she said, "Whichever is OK. I liked the 2nd one better, anyway."

Oh no. This meant I had to then go back to the aisle and retrieve the 2nd one.

So I sent one more text, and again, she replied with a bunch of "ha ha's."

I thought, "What is wrong with her. Why is my yogurt bar search so funny."

Later last night, she told me that when the storm began, she was sure I'd be "freaking out" worrying about her, so she texted me right away, "Hey, I'm at Heather's. There's a big storm comin!"

And apparently, my reply was, "What was that original brand of yogurt bar I got you that you liked?"

Then she replied with "Don't worry. I'm staying inside. Are you guys inside?"

And that's when I said, "Oh no. What was that 2nd brand?"

And THAT's when I got, "Hahahahaha."

If this conversation seems convoluted ... um, yes.

I NEVER saw any of her storm texts.

I'm just glad we all survived the big storm. I would hate to have my last words to my daughter be: "Hey, did you know it's waining?" (Trying to be cute.) Yes, she knew.

Watermelon

Watermelon. It's a feel-good food, evoking memories of long summer days, juice spilling from your chin onto your shirt, weekends at the lake, picnics, the Fourth of July and seed-spitting contests.

I was slicing a watermelon today, and another kind of memory came to mind.

A couple of years ago, when my friend Diane was gravely ill with cancer and staying in the hospital, she was craving watermelon. At this point, she was only receiving nourishment intravenously or by sipping a little bit of liquid. Her daughter, the same age as my Katie, and her daughter's father worked hard to find watermelon in early spring so that they could freeze the juice and make watermelon popsicles for her. It was quite a feat, and I know her daughter felt so good to be able to do that for her mother.

I remember being so sad when the realization hit me: "She has actually eaten her last meal? She will never chew any food again? No, this is it. She will never enjoy watermelon or any other food again." I was overcome with grief that she was slipping away, having one worldly delight after another taken from her. And now it was food, one of our most basic needs and pleasures. We take food for granted, we grouse about it, critique it, yammer about it, praise it, obsess about it. We focus our social events around food. Some of our dearest family memories revolve around the sharing of food and then the passing of the recipes to our children.

To never taste food again--It seemed such a cruel thing to live through before passing. It was hard to watch her body slowly trickle away when she always generated so much so much life and energy. She was one of the most enthusiastic people I've ever known.

So when I sink my teeth into a triangle of watermelon now, I think of Diane, and for a moment, I re-live the grief of the watermelon moment. But then I remember that the best way I can move on and still cherish her is to live in the moment the way she did, to really appreciate and enjoy things. Don't get me wrong; she made plans like everyone else. But she had a wonderful ability to be in the moment, to be "into" whomever she was conversing with, to be "into" whatever activity we were doing (such as Girls Group day at the lake) or to be "into" whatever we were enjoying, like rich holiday foods or refreshing watermelon.

Since that time, I have never taken a piece of juicy watermelon for granted again. The bigger lessons for me throughout the journey with Diane are too numerous to go into here, but the smaller ones are meaningful, too.

Like how to really appreciate a red, sweet bite of summer. Diane, I love and miss you!

Yum

I have a love for all things lime. I tried this tonight. It is my new popcorn forever. Thank you, Native Americans, for popcorn. Thank you, Orville, for truly knowing me, for getting me. You understand the lime lover that I am. Thank you.

When Chocolate & Ice Cream Fall From the Sky

Sometimes, good things happen.

Like one day, you open up your email and there is a message from someone offering you free chocolaty ice cream goodness.

A company called Edwards sent me a few coupons for their Singles A La Modes just to try, just for the heck of it, probably because the word "chocolate" appears in this blog approximately 9,763 times, so it was a safe bet I might say "yes" to the offer.

But far be it for me to hoard the chocolate.

OK, it's not that outlandish to think I might hoard some chocolate, but I'm not going to. I have 7 coupons left for one package of any Edwards Singles A La Modes in any variety, which includes:

Molten Lava Chocolate Cake
Chocolate Chip Cookie
Apple Crumb Cake
Turtle Brownie
Apple Crisp
Fudge Brownie

If you'd like to receive a coupon, leave a comment, and I'll let you know if you are randomly selected. Also, you can request a coupon for a free sample from their website.

I chose the Turtle Brown, and Mmmmmmm.

OK, I'm ready to share the love. Who wants some ice cream and chocolate??

Why It's Good to Be a Grown Up

When I was little, my mother fed me canned fruit cocktail to keep me, a-hem, regular.

The overarching detail of that memory is the one or two beautiful halves of bright maraschino cherries hidden in the melange.

I yearned for those pretty cherries and would beg for them, and bless her heart, she would let me have them, and anyone else who wanted the fruit got stuck with the bald grapes and grainy pears.

I did like to drink the "juice" in my bowl afterward, probably all sugar water.

Anyway, the other day I was enjoying a newly re-discovered joy: cottage cheese with pineapple. Yum.

I was just mow-mowing away when it hit me, "Wouldn't this be good with cherries?"

A quick trip to the fridge proved fruitful, pardonnez ze pun.

So I added a couple of cherries and got so happy.

I'm a simple girl.

Then I had another thought: "I want more cherries."

"No," I told myself. "Get control of yourself, woman. You only get two cherries, and you know it."

But then I back-talked myself, "Who made that rule? Mortimer Dole?"

And so ... I ate a lot of cherries.

And I loved it.

So here is reason 27 of "Why It's Good to Be a Grown Up": You get all the cherries you want.