On and on and on....

Life goes on.  Nick's raised bed garden is producing.  Radishes and tender, tasty lettuce.  Tomatoes in gardening bags.

I have flowers in flower pots on the front steps.

We watch TV. Hours and hours of it.  It's not much different than before.  If we want to watch different shows, I watch in my recliner in the family room.  Nick has his own TV in his study.

There are still covid deniers.  They fight the wearing of masks.  Claiming that their rights are being violated.

There are people like me.  I stay home.  We walk the dog.  I have not been "anywhere" since March.   I am fine with it.

We are ordering stuff online almost everyday.  Yarn.  Socks. Sheets.   Food.   Furnace filters.  Many of these are things we would have probably ordered anyway.  But I have always enjoyed going to Target and looking for things to buy.

I'm tired.  My knees hurt.  I am gaining weight again.   But, for whatever reason, I don't have trouble getting to sleep or staying asleep.










There is as much bigotry as before.  Maybe more.  


The commander in chief gets crazier and stupider and sometime plain crazier than ever.

Mourning an old cat's life on earth

I shared my daughter's writing about her cat Mister.  He was peacefully euthanized in his home  with his humans present.

I am sure he felt the love.  He got sleepy and then drifted off to that place we all wonder about,make up stories about but don't really understand.

I am sad.  I loved that cat.  I am also sad because I wish I could protect my daughter from the pain that loss brings.

But as Courtney said so well, if you want joy and love, pain and sorrow are all part of the human experience.

Mister was 17+ years old.  It struck me that Courtney left the family home at around that age.  First to finish high school in the States while we were abroad, then to go to college.

I know that you don't own your children.  I know that part of parenting is letting go a bit at a time.  Cut the apron strings.  Cut the cord.  Let them fly.

But, loss of a loved one, like Mister, reminds me that letting go in any number of ways is an act of love.

Mister's last resting place

We should all be grieving. I am. Some of the names and obituaries out of 100,000.

U.S. Deaths Near 100,000, an Incalculable Loss

•Loretta Mendoza Dionisio, 68, Los AngelesCancer survivor born in the Philippines.

•William Hrabnicky, 76, Cleveland

•Alan Lund, 81, Washington

•Ronald W. Lewis, 68, New Orleans

•JoAnn Stokes-Smith, 87, Charleston, S.C.

•Fred Walter Gray, 75, Benton County, Wash.

•Carl Redd, 62, Chicago

•Alvin Elton, 56, Chicago

•Mike Longo, 83, New York CityJazz pianist, composer and educator.

•Donald J. Horsfall, 72, Rydal, Pa.

•Larry Rathgeb, 90, West Bloomfield Hills, Mich.

•George Freeman Winfield, 72, Shelburne, Vt.

•Carole Brookins, 76, Palm Beach, Fla.

•Laneeka Barksdale, 47, Detroit

•Floyd Cardoz, 59, Montclair, N.J.

•Kious Kelly, 48, New York City

•Romi Cohn, 91, New York CitySaved 56 Jewish families from the Gestapo.

•Peggy Rakestraw, 72, Matteson, Ill.

•Robert Earl Schaefer, 87, Seattle

•Gerald Anthony Morales, 91, Louisiana

•Landon Spradlin, 66, Concord, N.C.

•Mary Virginia McKeon, 65, Chicago

•Roger Lehne, 93, Fargo, N.D.

•Louvenia Henderson, 44, Tonawanda, N.Y.

•Lynne Sierra, 68, Roselle, Ill.Grandmother who was always full of ideas.

•Susan McPherson Gottsegen, 74, Palm Beach, Fla.

•Andreas Koutsoudakis, 59, New York City

•Noel Sinkiat, 64, Olney, Md.

•Minette Goff Cooper, 79, Louisiana

•Thomas A. Real, 61, Newtown, Pa.

•Carol Sue Rubin, 69, West Bloomfield, Mich.

•Bassey Offiong, 25, Michigan

•April Dunn, 33, Baton Rouge, La.Advocate for disability rights.

•Harvey Bayard, 88, New York

•Eastern Stewart Jr., 71, Annapolis, Md.

•Peter Sakas, 67, Northbrook, Ill.

•Mary Roman, 84, Norwalk, Conn.

•Janice Preschel, 60, Teaneck, N.J.

•Daniel Spector, 68, Memphis

•Alby Kass, 89, California

•Clair Dunlap, 89, WashingtonPilot still teaching people to fly at 88.

•Ralph Plaisance, 87, Massapequa, N.Y.

•Mary Minervini, 91, Oak Lawn, Ill.

•Terrence George Driscoll, 87, Plymouth, Mich.

•Ronnie Estes, 73, Stevensville, Md.

•Ronald Burdette Culp, 84, Redding, Calif.

•Barbara Yazbeck Vethacke, 74, St. Clair Shores, Mich.

•Israel Sauz, 22, Broken Arrow, Okla.

•Leo Sreebny, 98, SeattlePreferred bolo ties to neckties, suspenders to belts.

•Robert Barghaan, 88, New York City

•Marty Derer, 56, New Jersey

•Janissa Delacruz, 31, Haverstraw, N.Y.

•Joseph W. Hammond, 64, Chicago

•Morris Loeb, 90, Northbrook, Ill.

•Marlon Alston, 46, Chicago

•Torrin Jamal Howard, 26, Waterbury, Conn.

•Gene Zahas, 78, Oakland, Calif.Fierce advocate for educational opportunity.

•William D. Greeke, 55, Massachusetts

•Jack Butler, 78, Indiana

•Hailey Herrera, 25, New York City

•Joseph F. Kelly, 81, New York City

•Perry Buchalter, 63, Florida

•Monica Maley, 74, Rehoboth Beach, Del.

•Ruth Skapinok, 85, Roseville, Calif.

•Faralyn Havir, 92, MinnesotaHer favorite thing was meeting new people.

•Clara Louise Bennett, 91, Albany, Ga.

•Conrad Duncker, 99, Chicago

•Johnnie D. Veasley, 76, Country Club Hills, Ill.

•Sean Christian Keville, 47, New Providence, N.J.

•Stuart Cohen, 73, New York City

•Mike Field, 59, Valley Stream, N.Y.

•Marie Scanlan Walker, 99, Louisiana

•Frances M. Pilot, 81, Wall, N.J.Known as Big Momma to all who loved her.

•Claudia Obermiller, 73, Nebraska

•Deyrold Arteaga, 66, Central Valley, N.Y.

•Myles Coker, 69, New York City

•Richard Alexander Ross Jr., 66, Boynton Beach, Fla.

•Rosemarie Amerosi, 87, New York City

•Wesley Richard Fahrbach II, 69, Fremont, Ohio

•Josephine Posnanski, 98, New JerseyLoved to dance.

•Gerald Glenn, 66, Richmond, Va.

•Michael Giangrande Sr., 78, Bellmore, N.Y.

•John B. Lynch, 76, Wilmington, Mass.

•Theodore Gaffney, 92, Washington, D.C.

•Sherrell Stokes, 54, Chicago

•Helen Silvia, 96, Brockton, Mass.

•Norman Gulamerian, 92, New Providence, N.J.

•Anita Robinson, 94, MinnesotaShared her knowledge and love of reading.

•Dolores A. Vail, 89, Torrington, Conn.

•Stanley Moser, 88, Fort Lee, N.J.

•Milton Sivels Jr., 68, Richton Park, Ill.

•Frank Miszkiewicz, 94, Aurora, Ill.

•Mary E. Mack, 84, Athens, Pa.

•Joseph Feingold, 97, New York City

•Ken Caley, 59, San Clemente, Calif.

•Jerome Michael Zottolo, 75, San DiegoMany appreciated his straight talk.

•Nancy M. Allen, 91, New York City

•Angeline Michalopulos, 92, Des Plaines, Ill.

•Allen Joseph Spinner, 71, Streamwood, Ill.

•James Kevin Malloy, 67, Oxford, Miss.

•Cathryn Wood, 94, Detroit

•Verla L. Courey, 88, South Windsor, Conn.

•Alan F. Krupp, 83, Newton, Mass.

•Stanley Marvin Grossman, 83, Nanuet, N.Y.Known to many for his amazing Donald Duck impersonation.

•Ferdi German, 41, Poughkeepsie, N.Y.

•Thomas William Campbell, 87, Midlothian, Va.

•Ina Shaw Mirviss, 93, Stamford, Conn.

•Barry G. Fisher, 69, Old Brookville, N.Y.

•Paul J. Foley Jr., 77, Chicago

•Iris Love, 86, New York City

•Jane Krumrine, 82, Merion Station, Pa.

•Charlie Hopper, 78, Augusta, MaineFormer firefighter.

•Judith Lee Arkerson, 77, Dover, N.H.

•John Larry Sartain, 77, Des Plaines, Ill.

•Herbert Nygren, 91, Carol Stream, Ill.

•Paul Martinez, 70, West Covina, Calif.

•John F. Cannon, 89, Allentown, Pa.

•Eric Frazier, 44, New Orleans

•Gerry Ellis, 91, Philadelphia

•Black N Mild, 44, New OrleansBounce D.J. and radio personality.

•Fred J. Felella Jr., 58, Sugar Grove, Ill.

•John Joseph Christiana Jr., 80, Hartford, Conn.

•Alice Fraher-Mason, 91, Weymouth, Mass.

•Roxana Griswold Foreman, 85, Richmond, Va.

•John Fusco, 68, Rochester, N.Y.

•Calvin Richardson Jr., 57, La Plata, Md.

•Charles Dow Long, 82, Tempe, Ariz.

•Linda L. Orendorff, 80, Hilliard, OhioHer strength was a thing of wonder.

•Boro Lalich, 68, Indianapolis

•John Francis McClintock, 84, Farmington Hills, Mich.

•Vincie Teresa DeRose, 57, Arlington, Mass.

•Mary Ann Scata, 90, Wethersfield, Conn.

•Dennis Peters, 82, Indiana

•Gaetano Lombardo, 70, Rockland County, N.Y.

•Peter Laker, 93, Chicago

•Dalma Holloway Torres, 73, Uniondale, N.Y.A passion for slot machines.

•Celia Yap-Banago, 69, Kansas City, Mo.

•Barbara Ann Loreck, 90, Pikesville, Md.

•Theodore Robert Zaterka, 89, South Windsor, Conn.

•Richard J. Conway III, 64, Amston, Conn.

•Francisco Mendez, 61, Jersey City, N.J.

•Wogene Debele, 43, Baltimore

•Mark Schroeder, 54, New York

•Raymond Paul Janssen, 96, Dowagiac, Mich.Last of his generation for his 60 nieces and nephews.

•Robert Barnes, 82, Philadelphia

•Maria Gibbs, 47, Burlington County, N.J.

•John J. Valentine, 86, Long Branch, N.J.

•Joyce Pacubas-Le Blanc, 53, Darien, Ill.

•Fred the Godson, 41, New York City

•William Harrison Goldman, 87, New Jersey

•Rona Iris Gertz, 74, New Jersey

•John Poleon, 63, Erie County, N.Y.Buffalo front-line hospital worker.

•Joseph T. Cappello, 55, Melrose Park, Ill.

•Oluwayemisi Ogunnubi, 59, Chicago

•Joan M. Cargill, 81, New Brunswick, N.J.

•Carl Robert Bentley, 78, Glastonbury, Conn.

•Clyde Addison Reichelderfer, 86, Ohio

•Betty Jean Ringle, 87, Idaho

•Walter M. Eagles Jr., 95, Fort Washington, Pa.Kept a scrapbook of the places he saw.

•Margaret Skaliotis, 92, Boston

•Latasha Andrews, 33, New Jersey

•Ron Frangipane, 75, Tinton Falls, N.J.

•Barbara Stack, 76, Perth Amboy, N.J.

•Robert Michael Sedor, 77, Hillsborough, N.J.

•Terry G. Thompson, 75, Indiana

•Brenda Lee Orebaugh, 62, Dayton, Va.

•Jorge F. Casals, 75, Manchester, Conn.Put himself through college.

•Lucille Marie Resto, 77, Rocky Hill, Conn.

•Pierina D. Borsoi, 90, Bethlehem, Pa.

•Peter J. Brancazio, 81, Manhasset, N.Y.

•Madeline Kripke, 76, New York City

•Eve Rudin, 103, Philadelphia

•Louise N. Walsh, 71, Massachusetts

•Nora Malis, 97, Salem, N.H.

•Michael Albert Shubak, 60, Coraopolis, Pa.Worked at Goodwill for more than 25 years.

•Ellen Elizabeth Fabry, 70, Burlington, N.J.

•Norton A. Kent, 96, Gwynedd, Pa.

•Joseph Colasurdo, 85, Jersey City, N.J.

•Mary Frances Parsels Dennis, 82, Mechanicsville, Va.

•Asela E. Gejo, 92, New Jersey

•Juan Martinez, 60, Chicago

•Kenneth James Godwin, 94, Michigan

•Irene Ann Allen, 80, Simsbury, Co

Facebook post of my daughter, Courtney

The cat I adopted in 2002, a few months after I met the man who would become my ex-husband, is terminally ill. I have scheduled in-home euthanasia for Saturday.
Memorial Day weekend has been a time of celebration for most of the past decade of my life, with notable and awful exceptions. Many of my close friends and I have a tradition of camping at a non-commercial festival in a remote Oregon canyon this weekend. I often bring art.
Ben only joined me at SOAK once, in 2016. On Friday of that Memorial Day weekend, he told me he was leaving me. I did not see it coming. It still sometimes feels like I will never recover from the shock. The next day, that Saturday, we threw our wedding rings into a bonfire. I stripped off my clothes and danced drunkenly in the heat of its flames.
I have been mourning SOAK, amid this year of cancellations, and missing the friends I will not see. Mister’s sudden decline feels like yet another weight at a time of too many burdens.
By Memorial Day weekend 2017, I was infatuated with somebody new, and deeply confused about my feelings and my future.
Zach says when he first met Mister in the apartment where I lived after Ben and before I bought my house, he knew he would have to woo my cat in order to win me over. He succeeded. And Mister won over Zach as well. They spend hours together every day.
Yesterday, after the visit with the vet and after I arranged the in-home euthanasia, Zach and I walked together, looking for the perfect spot. “Mister loves this corner of the yard,” I said. “It’s his favorite place to sit and look.” Zach agreed, and he began to dig.
Mister’s grave is perhaps 3 feet deep so far. Zach will try to dig a little more today.
Mister has been somewhat sick for years, but yesterday, today and tomorrow he will be freed from the medication that he hates. He is relishing unlimited treats. We are spoiling him as much as we are able.
I had planned to erect a tent in the yard tonight, to celebrate or memorialize the camping trip I’m missing by vacationing at home. Instead, I’ll sleep inside and hope that Mister crawls between me and Zach for one last night of cuddles and skritches and purrs.
We invited Ben to come tomorrow for the end. I have lived with Mister for nearly 18 years; Ben was there for 14 of those years. We will drink wine, pet the wonderful terrible cat who loves us all, say goodbye to him in life, and bury him in death. Ben will be the first new person in our home since February, since before stay-home orders and quarantines and the start of what feels like an endless season of loss.
I am so grateful for this unexpected life I somehow have found; so grateful that out of the grief of four years ago I have found a new kind of friendship with Ben, a new love with Zach; so grateful for the sweet and terrible cat I’ve jokingly called my life partner, who has accompanied nearly every day of my adulthood; so grateful that Mister is not yet suffering, or not much, and that as far as he will ever know he is immortal and he will always be.
And, yes, I am profoundly sad.

I think it's Monday

Just kidding.  I know that it's Monday.  I know because it says so on my phone and on my computer screen.   Yup.

I am still knitting away.  Here's my latest creation:

Yes, I have made a toilet paper cover.  I used to see these in people's houses (bathrooms) when I was a kid.  I guess they went out of fashion.   I am thinking of making a bunch of them- for each kid.  Why not?







A couple of weeks ago there was a fly over by the Blue Angels and the Thunderbirds .  We couldn't see it from our house, but my nephew and his family went to a place where they could see them.  My nephew shared a picture he took.  It was such a great picture that I had it made into a poster.

For some reason the poster was delivered to our old house in Reston, so I had to contact the person who bought our house.  Nick and I went to pick it up and then took it to my sister's house.  She can get it to her son/ my nephew.

When  the whole stay at home/ quarantine started, I had great ambitions to make tons of masks.  Well, I made two and started a third and I just couldn't do any more.  I am not sure why.   I guess it's just a part of the depression that goes with being safe and staying home as much as possible.  I did find some people on a Facebook group called "Crafting During Quarantine" who are making masks. I asked if anyone needed any supplies.  Two women said that they don't have enough elastic.  Today I  took two big envelopes fill of elastic and mailed them.  One to Brooklyn  and one to Arizona.  Now I feel like I am doing my bit.

Nick and I wear masks when we go out.   He is out a lot more than me because he does all of the food shopping.  In fact the other day we went out together and I shopped for the first time.  We went to Home Depot.  Nick had shopping to do inside.  I stayed in the garden center outside.  I got some pretty flowers for the front porch.    I was impressed that everyone I saw was wearing a mask.  Nick said that inside the store, not so much.  He said that there were a lot of people with no mask who had a defiant look.  

It just hit me the other day that a lot of what we (everyone) is /are mourning.  We are mourning the deaths of  over 300,000 people.  On the news this evening there was a report of a 16 year old girl in DC who died today.  It is a very strange, sad, dystopian time.

Last week my email group, PS (Power Surge) had a Zoom meeting.  We are planning to try again this week.   It is so nice to meet with and visit with these friends.  We started this group in 1995 or 1996.

Terry in Canada, Kathie  in Minnesota, Eileen in Israel, Joan in Rhode Island,, Alice in Washington State, Me (Nancy) in Virginia, Carroll in South Carolina, Johanna in Indiana, Connie in Kansas, Mary in California, Barbara in Arkansas and Susan in North Carolina

                                                                                                                

It is really strange being so unstructured.  Not that we are always on the go.  But I have had activities  like the Breastfeeding cafe I have been organizing weekly for over 10 years.  I do hope that it will start up again eventually.

I have completed filling up 10 binders full of old mail.  I need to find more letters to put into binders.    I know that there are more, I just need to find them.

I saw a neat system for organizing knitting needles and supplies.   Double pointed needles and circular needles don't have the size stamped on them which means, even if I have them somewhat organized now, I always have to double check the size with a sizing tool.  The method I am planning to use will have all of the needles (double pointed and circular) into a a zipper pocket folder and label them.  I don't know who reads this or if anything I say here makes sense.  Oh well.

Steven Colbert is on TV.  Good night.

Time after Time

I looked up the lyrics to this song and decided that they were too long to post here.  So I am just putting the link here.

 The whole world is sick.  Or has been sick.  Or on the verge of being sick.  Or knows of someone who has been sick.  Or dies.   It's hard to do anything.  I mean anything.  even getting a shower and getting dressed is hard.   We no longer just jump into the car and go out.  There's nowhere that is safe to go now.  Nick goes to the grocery store while I stay home.

Mostly I watch TV.  And eat.  And play with my computer or phone.  It's hard to concentrate on much.

There's an article titled "Why it"s so hard to read a book right now."    I can't even make myself read the aricle.

We are both seeming to have mobility problems.  My legs are so stiff and achy when I try to do a lot.  Actually, they are stiffest after I have been sitting for too long.  Which seems to be all the time these days.

A few weeks ago I discovered a birds nest with eggs in it.   I love that sort of thing- the world working like it should.  Next time I looked there were these tiny, naked baby birds.  Their eyes were not even open yet, but their greedy, hungry beaks were wide open.   Today I went to take a peek at the nest.  When I did, five or six small, fully developed birds flew right out of their hiding place and flew away.   Ah, they grow up so fast!   The took off in such a hurry and surprised me so much I didn't get a picture of them today.

Eggs April 20, 2020

Baby Birds

Mommy wren

Mother's Day May 10, 2020

Courtney Carol Sherwood 2-25-1978

Morgan Robert Sherwood 3-4-1981

Darcy Brewster Sherwood 8-31-1984

Austin Andrew 5-3-1987

Chance Burke Sherwood 12-6-1990

Letters and Memories

I am again putting letters onto three ring binders.    I have filled up four binders so far.  Actually, make that five- I finished one today.

I took a long break between working on the binders.  At least a month.   I have been busy working on Courtney's sweater (which she really likes by the way)

It's always interesting, amusing, educational and nostalgic to re live the past this way. Some letters are typed.  The ones from my dad and from Nick's parents are almost all typed.  It's a good thing because it is easier to read typewritten words.  But, the hand written letters are so personal.  Everyone's handwriting is unique and so often recognizable.

I have come across wedding invitations of couples who are now divorced.  The birth announcement of a friend's son, whose same son died as a fighter pilot so many years later.  

Letters from my grandparents and Nick's grandmother, all gone now.  From my parents, brother, in-laws.  Even a few friends.  All gone.  Their letters bring them back to life and make them real again. 

One thing that makes me sad is the letters of condolence from when I lost my first baby.  That first pregnancy was so exciting and wonderful.  Everyone in both of our families were excited.   My dad's letters said "so there will be three of you coming back from Thailand".  Actually, there were three of us.  Just not the baby we had thought we would have.

It is such a blurry memory.  I was pregnant.  I was growing a nice little belly.  I was wearing maternity clothes.  And then I wasn't.  It's not that easy.  I didn't just wake up not pregnant.  I went to the hospital and found out that I was not pregnant any more.

I never "knew" that baby.  I never met or saw that baby.  I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl.

As with each of my pregnancies, that one, the first one, was an affirmation of life.  An act of deliberate optimism .  Then there was the sadness.

I am so happy that I got pregnant with Courtney and had no complications or concerns.  The birth and the days after were hard, but so wonderful.

Zoom!

Zoom was the word yesterday.  Early in the day I got to participate in a Zoom event with some of my old La Leche League friends.  We are a group that started out with over 40 members in 1995 or 6.  We were all dealing with aging parents and or menopause.  So, even though we were still connected through La Leche League, we did not have the concerns of moms with young babies and children.

 I could write volumes about us, our joys and sorrows.  But I will say, we have a wonderful connection and love.

Power Surge Zoom meeting

Later in the day, 7:00 pm my time, I got to do another Zoom gathering.  All five of my kids got into a Zoom meeting to wish me a happy birthday!  I think that the last time all five of them have been together with Nick and I was December 2017.  They all came home for Christmas after my second brain surgery.

I have trouble getting pictures to be situated where I want them on this blog, but I am going to try!

All of us for my 66th birthday- on Zoom!

Nick bringing me my gluten free birthday cake!

Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow

Yesterday was a hard day for me.  I hoped to talk with a person that I love with all my heart.  But conversations must always be made very cautiously.    A year or so ago I tried to write a supportive email.  I wrote about the beauty and wonder in  nature, how the world, and seeing things in a new and different way can be so enlightening
Instead of being understood, the reply was something on the order of what the fuck- why do you always have to criticize me.

It is very difficult to communicate and share when  the recipient gets angry that I say things about what I know and have experienced.   But, hang on a minute.  I am myself.  I can only speak truth from my own self, brain, experience.    If  I do not focus every word and thought to the other person it somehow means I do not care.

I reflect and try to digest what it is I am doing "wrong".    I am sure I do a lot of things "wrong", but all in all I am a good, caring and loving person.  I am honest and generous with my time and my heart.     I am feeling a lot like the demands and threats are a couple of things.  They are the anger and insecurity being expressed as a lashing out.  But they are also a form of abuse.  Telling me that I (and others) do not make you happy.  Do not say or do what you think they need to say is just not true and not fair.

If you need help, you need to work on how to best articulate it.   Having a screaming tantrum does not solve whatever problem's being experienced.   Before you know it any friends that were there will run away because of this abuse.   No healthy person like being abused.

And now I will talk about MYSELF.  I was abused in my life.  As a child and as an adult.  It took a lot of therapy and a lot of mindfulness to learn why I was a victim.   What did I do and how did I behave that made me into a victim.  Or, was I really a victim or was I telling myself that I was.  Did I have any control over the things that I felt victimized by?

Friends:   most people want and need friends.   I get the line "well, you have a lot of friends, I don't have any, they either die or move away"       I recognize that I am an extrovert.  That makes it easier for me to talk to people and strike up relationships, for sure.    But it is a give and take thing.  And sometimes it's more give and sometimes it's more take.   Introvert or extrovert, if people feel that you don't want to know them they will not go after you.  None of my friends just sprouted up in a garden.  They are all people I have sought to have a relationship with.  Even my sister.  Just because she is my sister doesn't mean we are automatically friends.  We care about each other.  We fill up each other's  soul (?is that a dumb word to use?).  We make an effort.  She calls me.  I call her.  We do things for each other, often without being asked.  We know that we can ask each other for help but don't get mad if the other doesn't have the exact script of words we want to hear.  And neither of us have threatened to hurt our self in order to get the other to comply to our wishes.

Tomorrow is behind me.  I am letting go of the stinging words from yesterday.

There seems to be a lot of baking going on in the time of corona-virus.  Lots of folks are sharing pictures of the wonderful breads they are making.  Now I have celiac, so I am sure that most of the beautiful bread is poison to me.  But I am not mad about it.  I don't yell at anyone.  I might have a nanosecond of bread envy!

Today I decided to get back in our kitchen.  Not bread though. Oatmeal cookies.  With gluten free flour.

When we had kids in the house, before I was diagnosed with celiac, we used to bake a lot.  Chocolate chip cookies.  Oatmeal cookies.  Coffee cake with a brown sugar crumble topping.  Bread  and bread sticks.  Pizza from scratch.

I miss those days.  But today I did it.  Yummy, home made oatmeal cookies.

Oh, and tomorrow.   Tomorrow is my birthday!

Many Sherwood cookies have been baked on this cookie sheet

The recipe we always use.  In Courtney's handwriting.  Maybe she wrote the original recipe we use.

Instructions to go with the recipe

cookie dough, yummy

Warm from the oven

It's May!

Austin turns 33 this week.  I turn 66.   Crazy.   I was technically 32 when I had Austin, but my birthday is only two days after his, so I was 33 by the time we went home from the hospital.  

It all seems like a dream.  His birth was a highly anticipated event to put it mildly.   His was my only labor that I had from start to finish with no drugs and a natural delivery.  People are always surprised that I had a v-bac with my fourth child.  After three cesareans and followed by another.   Austin's birth probably empowered me more than anything else before or after.

And now we hardly see each other we live miles apart.   Life is so strange.  I am sure I have said that hundreds of times.

I got my first Social Security payment this month!  Now I really am a senior citizen. 

Nature doesn't seem to care about who is old or young or doing what.  Last week I discovered a nest of eggs inside an unused flower pot.  Now the eggs have hatched and the baby chicks are there with their mouths gaping open wanting food.  Food! 

And life goes on.