The Hardest Day

It wasn't the day I got the call that he was gone. 

It wasn't the day I saw his body. 

It wasn't the day of his funeral. 

It wasn't the day I picked up his ashes. 

It was my birthday. 

You see, as horrible as the first few days were, it wasn't real yet. It hadn't sunk in. The shock blurred the edges so the pain was dulled with confusion and a haze of unreality. The pain was diffused and unfocused. But now, it's slightly less horrible, but it's so very much more real. The pain is crisp and clear. It's sharp as a razor. Sharp as shards of shattered glass.

My family did their best to make my birthday as normal as possible. My sister and brother-in-law had us over last weekend for dinner and cake and presents. My daughter brought me coffee in bed. My son wished me happy birthday. My aunt and uncle called and sang to me. A few friends sent gifts. I got calls and texts and Facebook messages and emails from literally hundreds of friends and family. 

But it wasn't the same. There was no bouquet of roses, no homemade gourmet dinner with appetizers and wine and candlelight. There was no date night at the Melting Pot. There was no dressing up to the nines and taking selfies. There were no birthday kisses. 

It hit home, and it hit home HARD. I cried all day. Well, I cried all day until my kids came home from school. Then I pulled it together and put on a brave face for them. But when they left the room, I cried some more. When I drove my son to his trombone lesson, I cried silently in the darkness of the car all the way there. And I kept crying in the parking lot, wiping my face before he got back in the car. When I went to bed, I cried myself to sleep. 

It was the end of so many traditions of love and family and feeling special and being cherished. It was the closing of a chapter of my life that was so incredibly special, so incredibly wonderful, so incredibly a part of who I have become, that it felt like losing my entire identity, my entire purpose. 

But I can make it a beginning, as well. One chapter has ended, but there are other chapters waiting to be written. There are new traditions of love to begin. There are children on the cusp of adulthood to be loved and guided and celebrated and launched into lives of their own. There are opportunities to grow in new ways. There are other relationships to be developed, and cherished, and relied on. I still have an identity and a purpose, they're just different than they were. And that's hard to accept. I'm not good at change. I never have been. 

But change is inevitable, even when it's hard. Even when you have to be dragged, kicking and screaming and sobbing, into a new chapter, that new chapter will come. I don't have to like it, but I have to accept it, because I can't control it. 

What I can control, however, is how I deal with it. So I will choose to deal with it with grace, with courage, and with faith. I will choose to set an example for my children of how to deal with adversity. I will choose to make the best of what life has dealt me. I will choose to write this new chapter with my head held high and my eyes on the future and my heart open to a new way of life. I will choose to go on. 

But first, I think I'll have another good cry. 

Then I'll be ready to take on whatever the future holds. 

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord,
“plans to prosper you and not to harm you,
plans to give you hope and a future."

- Jeremiah 29:11

Fashion Review: Monster High Generation 1

This blog is a specific request from my daughter. She loves watching the Monster High television series and movies and critiquing the characters' clothes (the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, apparently), and asking me for my opinion. So when she sent me a series of pictures of various characters and asked me to comment on their looks, how could I say no? So here are some of the Monster High Generation 1 characters, and my critique of their fashions. 

Name: Frankie Stein
Monster Heritage: Daughter of Frankenstein's Monster (aka The Creature)
Notable Info: German
The Look: Teal and black plaid minidress with white yoke with Peter Pan collar, black mesh puffed short sleeves, a black and white polka dot necktie, and a flared skirt with black mesh crinoline, accessorized with a black and silver studded hip belt, black and white striped platform heels with an ankle strap, and a black and red short-handled purse. 

The Critique: The silhouette of the dress is very cute, and I love the teal and black color scheme. But the purse color is awful with the outfit, and the style is very matronly. A teal clutch or wristlet would be much more appropriate. The shoes are a little clunky, and I feel like a pair of high-top sneakers or black ankle boots would be more age-appropriate.

  

Name: Draculara
Monster Heritage: (Adopted) daughter of Dracula
Notable Info: Vegan, 1600 years old, Transylvanian
The Look: White pleated miniskirt with black mesh crinoline, electric pink corset-style vest, charcoal gray blouse with white ruffled collar and cuffs and pink neck trim, charcoal gray hose, and pink laceup boots with black straps. She also carries a black parasol with pink trim. 

The Critique: I actually really like this look. Its simple lines are youthful and flattering, as is the pink/black/white color palette. The demure lace collar contrasts nicely with the tailored silhouette and the bold boots. And I love that her pink and black hair matches her outfit!

 

Name: Clawdeen Wolf
Monster Heritage: Werewolf (older sister of Howleen, below)
Notable Info: Age 16, from Brooklyn
The Look: Purple pleated miniskirt with black mesh crinoline and studded belt, black and pink animal print cropped tee, purple cropped jacket with lavender trim and lavender fur collar, and black-and-purple strappy open-toed gladiator boots, accessorized with a pendant necklace and studded choker. 

The Critique: The purple and black color palette is great with her dark coloring, and I adore the fur-trimmed jacket, but the tee looks out of place in both style and color, and I don't love the combination of the low-cut skirt with the cropped top. A black and purple print leotard top would be a more flattering look. But the hair and boots are terrific!

Name: Lagoona Blue
Monster Heritage: Sea monster/sea nymph
Notable Info: Age 16, Australian
The Look: Pink sequin top with a wide black band at the top, under a cropped teal jacket with black sleeves and teal cuffs, black shorts with a wide teal waistband and teal trim, teal fishnet bike shorts,  black platform wedges with pink trim, and a pink floral headpiece. 

The Critique: I love the black and teal color scheme, and the pink top reminiscent of scales is a nice pop of contrast, tied in nicely to the hints of pink in the shoes and headpiece. But there are simply too many parts to this look which make it feel very busy. I could do without the fishnet shorts, and the jacket could be simpler. But it's not a terrible look. 

Name: Cleo DeNile
Monster Heritage: Daughter of Pharaoh Rameses
Notable Info: Over 5,000 years old, Egyptian
The Look: Gold wrapped cropped leggings, aqua criss-cross babydoll top with sheer split bottom and black trim, accessorized with gold gladiator wedges, a single gold wrapped elbow-length glove, gold chandelier earrings, and a gold headband studded with aqua gems.

The Critique: This is my favorite look so far. The leggings and glove are a nice nod to her "mummy" heritage while still being cute and stylish, and the sheer babydoll top is both sexy and demure. The long earrings add a touch of elegance. 

Name: Abbey Bominable
Monster Heritage: Yeti

Notable Info: Age 15, Nepalese
The Look: Off-the-shoulder black fitted minidress with colorful traditional embroidery wrapped with criss-crossing cord and white fur trim, with white fur gauntlets and thigh-high boots, accessorized with a short blue collar necklace, dangling snowflake earrings, and a white fur headband. 

The Critique: I love this look even more than the last. The white fur accents are a nice balance to the darker fabric and colorful embroidery, which is a lovely nod to her Nepali heritage. The blue necklace is too similar to her skin tone and might have been better if it picked up one of the other bright colors in the embroidery, but that's a minor nitpick in what otherwise is a lovely ensemble. I would absolutely wear this dress! 

Name: Spectra Vondergeist
Monster Heritage: Ghost
Notable Info: Died in the 1800s at age 15, German
The Look: Sleeveless black chiffon fit-and-flare dress with a purple insert down the front of the bodice and silver military trim, with a modified handkerchief-style above-the-knee skirt with purple lining, accessorized with a silver chain belt and calf-length pink boots with silver chain trim. 

The Critique: The overall silhouette is great, and I love the way the trim on the bodice gives a 1980s, Michael Jackson vibe. The hint of silver on the skirt creates some lovely visual lines, and the touches of silver throughout provide a nice unifying detail. But as a ghost who levitates, she missed an opportunity for some gorgeously impossible-to-walk-in sleek stilettos instead of these clunky boots. But otherwise, a nice look. 

Name: Toralei Stripe
Monster Heritage: Werecat
Notable Info: Age 16, American (likely Californian)
The Look: Black and pink bias-cut plaid minidress over black ankle leggings with pink slashing, topped with a cropped black jacket with pink piping and accessorized with open-toe black and pink gladiator sandals, a black-and-pink plaid shoulder bag, a gold buckle hip belt, and a tan ascot-style scarf. 

The Critique: This is quite a cute look, and honestly the only change I would make is to switch the gold belt for either solid black or possibly tan to match the ascot. Otherwise, it's a great ensemble!

Name: Operetta
Monster Heritage: Daughter of the Phantom of the Opera
Notable Info: Age 15, ethnically French but very Southern American

The Look: Wide-cuffed cropped jeans, a white blouse with short puffed sleeves and a purple collar, topped with a purple corset belt and accessorized with white platform heels with metallic spiderweb and G clef detailing, a metallic beaded mask shaped like a musical note, a metallic belt, and a red coffin-shaped guitar case, also with spiderweb detailing. 

The Critique: The outfit feels very 1950s, and I definitely get a Southern vibe, but although I see the musical tie-ins, I'm missing any nods to her French heritage. Her look is also much more casual than the other girls, so I would love to have seen the pants in a dressier fabric or at least a more formal style, possibly even a denim ankle-length flared panel skirt, to add some drama and elegance. 

Name: Howleen Wolf
Monster Heritage: Werewolf (younger sister of Clawdeen, above)
Notable Info: Age 15, from Brooklyn
The Look: Belted black minidress with yellow ladder patterns and blue and pink flowers, topped with a deep purple jacket with 3/4-length sleeves, accessorized with knee-high laced black wedge boots, black fingerless biker gloves, red fishnet stockings, and a black beanie. 

The Critique: The print of the dress is busy and colorful enough that the accessories need to be simpler and more unified to avoid becoming distracting. Skip the fishnet stockings and make the jacket black instead of a contrasting color, so the accessories are all plain black, and this look would work much better. The black beanie on the vivid pink hair is adorable, especially with her ears peeking through!

Name: Twyla Boogeyman
Monster Heritage: Daughter of the Boogeyman
Notable Info: Age 15, Eastern European descent
The Look: Black and white three-tiered ruffled miniskirt with dark periwinkle edging, dark periwinkle jersey with vertical black pinstripes, bell sleeves, and a black velvet bow at the neck, accessorized with a silver belt and silver bangle bracelets, and black and purple ankle boots with silver laces and elaborate heel details. 

The Critique: The dark purple and black could have been drab, but the various textures created by ruffles and prints brought visual interest, and the silver accessories lightened the look somewhat. The shoes look a bit heavy and clunky, but they're balanced but the sweet bow at the neck and her pale green and lavender streaked long wavy hair. Proof that accessories can make or break a look!

Favorite look overall? I have to go with Abby Bominable, simply because it's a look that would work on so many people - including me! 

And if you'd love that look yourself, check out this great dress from Etsy for only $44 that has a similar style: 

Pick up a two-pack of feather boas from Amazon for $14 and you can add white trim around the shoulders and make a simple pair of gauntlets and a headband.

Then finish off your look with a cozy pair of tall white faux fur boots, like this pair from Amazon for $56.

You'll be the most stylish Yeti in town!

How Do I Miss Thee? Let Me Count the Ways

Grief, when it comes right down to basics, is simply missing someone who is no longer there. 

My life and my husband's were more intertwined than a lot of couples, which means that there are a lot of normal everyday things that make me miss him almost more than I can bear. It feels like he ought to be there in every moment of my life, but he's not. I miss him every moment of every day. 

I miss him when I wake up in the morning and his face on the pillow next to me isn't the first thing I see. I miss warming my cold feet on his warm legs before I get up. I miss him when I have to go downstairs to get my morning coffee myself instead of him bringing it to me in bed. I miss the lingering scent of his bodywash and the warmth of the steam from his morning shower when I go in the bathroom to brush my teeth. 

I miss hearing him working in his office, or on a phone call sounding all business-like and organized and in control. 

I miss him when I eat lunch alone instead of having him come out of his office and announce that he's cleared his schedule for a few hours so we can go out to lunch, or to Costco, or to the hardware store, or take a walk in the park across the street. I miss watching him pretend his Costco cart is out of control as he careens across the parking lot. I miss quietly singing together, "We are Farmer's, bum ba-dum-bum bum-bum-bum" whenever we get the cashier who looks like J.K. Simmons. 

I miss him when I'm cooking dinner and he's helping out while dancing to Sinatra or Buble or BYU Vocal Point or Broadway tunes. I miss cocktails and nachos on the porch. I miss going out to dinner and him asking the server for a taste of 2 or 3 different wines so he can do a "taste test." I miss the way he always ordered his martini: "Tanqueray martini, extra extra dry, shaken hard, up, with a twist (lemon; sometimes he had to clarify)." I miss sharing an appetizer of calamari, or cheese steak egg rolls, or steamed dumplings. I miss telling him I don't want dessert but having him still order a creme brulee with four spoons because he knows I really want dessert. I miss the way, when the server asked if he wanted a second cocktail, he would look at me and raise a single eyebrow, silently asking if I was willing to drive home so he could say yes. I miss the way we'd always stop by the band and request a song to dance to when we were leaving Eddie V's.  

I miss relaxing together in the hot tub after the kids are in bed, listening to the quiet night noises, like the owls hooting and the occasional plane overhead and the deer rustling in the woods. I miss our late-night talks, and our late-night silences. I miss "solving the world's problems" over a nightcap. 

I miss being on stage together. I miss navigating while he drives. I miss shopping for Christmas presents for the kids together. I miss planning vacations together. I miss sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching movies together. I miss private jokes like, "Era? What era?" and "50 pounds is 50 pounds" and "LI! LACS!" and "Tell me about the piano." I miss him bringing me flowers "just because." I miss happy-happies. 

I miss debriefing in the car on the way home after a party or a show. I miss planning parties together. I miss cleaning the house together before and after a cast party. I miss singing and dancing together at parties. I miss catching his eye across a crowded room during a party and knowing what a wonderful time we're both having. I miss watching him teach people to saber champagne. 

I miss kissing him during that first backstage cross after the opening number and again before the curtain goes up in the Victorian scene in the Reagle Christmas show. I miss kissing him every time we got into an empty elevator. I miss kissing him on the Ferris wheel. I miss kissing him good morning and good night and have a good day and I love you and I missed you. 

I miss having a partner and a best friend and a sounding board and a fan club president and a cheering squad. I miss a hug at the end of a good day or a bad day. I miss having a shoulder to cry on, and a faithful fan to celebrate with. 

I miss him not noticing when I get a haircut. I miss him forgetting to take out the trash until we hear the truck down the street and him throwing on clothes to bring the bins out to the curb before it gets to our house. I miss being wakened by his snoring. I miss asking him what he'd like for dinner and having him respond, "Hmm, I'll have to get back to you," and never getting back to me. I miss shopping for my own Christmas stocking stuffers and Easter basket fillers because that was not his thing. I miss him getting a little too loud after his second (or third) cocktail. I miss him walking into the living room and obliviously changing the channel on the TV even though I was in the middle of watching something else. 

I miss hearing his voice. And his laugh. And seeing his face. And smelling his smell. And sensing his presence. 

I miss ending a phone call with, "I love you and I miss you." 

Because I still love him. And I still miss him. Almost more than I can bear. 

Me and Eleanor Rigby

I'm not exactly what I would call a Beatles "fan," but I do enjoy their music. And I find some of their lyrics to be particularly interesting or meaningful. One of my favorite Beatles tunes is "Eleanor Rigby." I find it to be quite sad, but also quite relatable. And these days, I can identify even more with the "lonely people," and with Eleanor in particular. 

A statue of Eleanor Rigby in Liverpool

I've always been struck by the lines, "Wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door. Who is it for?" What did it mean? I didn't understand. 

But now I do. I get you now, Eleanor. I, too, now have a face that I keep in a jar by the door. Because sometimes my real face is not appropriate for public. Like last Sunday, in church. I teach the kids' Sunday school class, which meets during the worship service, and I needed a little extra time to set up my classroom that morning, so I got to the sanctuary late and decided to stand at the back until it was time to lead the kids out. 

And everything was fine, until we sang the opening hymn. Which happened to be one of my late husband's favorites. And the last time I had heard it was at his funeral. I actually made it through the first two verses before I fell apart. With tears running down my face, I tried to keep singing, but only a croak came out, so I stopped. I dug into my pocket for a tissue, trying to put my face back together before the "passing of the peace" that always followed the hymn, when everyone turns and greets each other, and before it was time to lead the kids out of the service. I had to pull it together, and quickly. 

So I put on the face that I keep in a jar by the door. The face that covers my true feelings. The face that is socially acceptable. The face that was able to cheerfully pass the peace to those around me, and to greet the children in my class, even when inside, I was falling apart. 

It's a useful thing, that face in the jar. I use it with my own kids on a regular basis. There are times when I am dealing with my kids and I feel overwhelmed, so I put on the face. There are times when I'm in public and I have a "moment," but I don't want to freak people out, so I put on the face. There are even times when I frighten myself with the depths of emotion that suddenly wash over me, so I put on the face. 

It feels safer that way. It feels necessary, sometimes. It spares other people discomfort, or unease. The face is a way to hide my true feelings when it's not the time and place to show them. Sometimes I even use it when I know that those around me will understand, and offer sympathy, but I just can't bear receiving sympathy at the moment. 

But it has its opposite, as well. As much as there are times when I hide my feelings, I also find times to let them out. Sometimes the emotion just hits me and, if I'm alone or in a safe place, I can let it out. And there are also times when I find myself in a safe place and choose to let those feelings out. 

I think it's important to let them out. Bottling them up somehow makes them multiply, like Tupperware lids in a little-used cabinet or tangled wire hangers in the guest room closet. They're not so bad when you originally tuck them away, but if you leave them alone for a while, they grow until they're a huge mess when you finally open that door. They'll come crashing into you and knock you for a loop. 

One of my favorite words is "catharsis," and giving vent to those overwhelming angry/sad/fearful/hopeless feelings at an opportune moment provides catharsis. It's like switching on an emotional garbage disposal: It makes a lot of noise and it stinks and sometimes it's a little messy, but it does get rid of the nasty stuff you don't need. More nasty stuff might build up eventually, but as long as you keep dealing with it on a regular basis, it doesn't build up to the point where you need to call in a professional. But if you DO need to call a professional, that's okay, too. 

We all do what we have to do to make it through life. Sometimes, that means keeping a jar by the door. 

  

I'm on Fire

Whenever someone asks how I'm doing lately, I think of the line from Evita, where Eva Peron, who is dying of cancer, states, "Some days are fine, some a little bit harder." That is the understatement of understatements. No days are truly fine, and "a little bit harder" means "nearly impossible to survive." Even now, nearly five months after my husband's death, some days are manageable, if not exactly fine, and some days are merely blind groping through the necessities of life and no more.

But I have learned to forgive myself for the bad days, and to take advantage of the good days. So when I have a good day, I try to do everything that I can possibly find the motivation to do, to check off as many items on my "to do" list as I can. When I have a good day, I'm on fire. 

Sometimes that looks like scrubbing the bathrooms and doing several loads of laundry. Sometimes that looks like making a bunch of phone calls and writing a bunch of emails and filling out a bunch of forms. Sometimes that looks like decorating the house for the holidays. Sometimes that looks like mowing the lawn and raking the driveway. Sometimes that looks like cooking and baking up a storm. Sometimes that looks like picking a corner of the house and organizing it. And, just as importantly, sometimes that looks like curling up by the fireplace with a book and a cup of coffee followed by a soak in the hot tub, followed by a few hours listening to podcasts and doing crossword puzzles, and ending with curling up by the fireplace with a book and a glass of wine. Self care is hard on a bad day, but it's important enough to make sure it happens on a good day. 

Sometimes I feel like I'm continually dropping the ball, like I should have done more of the practical things by now, that I'm behind some imaginary deadline. But every time I start to feel that way, someone comments on how well I'm doing, or how much I'm doing, or expresses admiration for everything I've done so far, and I am reminded that I am my own worst critic. I see myself as a dumpster fire, but those around me - those with clearer eyes and a less biased perspective - see me as "on fire."

Maybe I am a dumpster fire on my bad days, but maybe that's not a bad thing. There's certainly plenty of things in my life right now that could use a cleansing fire. Maybe the bad days are there to purge my emotional dumpster. But they leave just enough fuel that on the good days, I'm still on fire. 

 

The Kindness of Strangers

My kids are now old enough to want to design their own Halloween costumes, rather than doing a themed group costume with the family. So although I wore a simple red-and-white striped shirt and red-and-white pom-pom beanie for my "Where's Waldo" themed Trunk or Treat display, I didn't bother to wear a costume on Halloween itself. But I think I missed an excellent opportunity to dress up as Blanche DuBois from A Streetcar Named Desire. 

Why that character in particular? Because I identify with many parts of her story. She was widowed young, resulting in a loss of income that terrifies her. Although she is clearly intelligent, she is sheltered and inexperienced in many ways, and lacks confidence in herself and her ability to navigate life on her own. She is worried about her future, and admits, in her own words, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers."

Obviously, there are a lot of aspects of her character that I don't identify with. I'm not frantically searching for a new husband to look after me, I'm not an alcoholic, I'm not concerned about losing my looks, I'm not a social outcast, and I'm reasonably certain that I won't end up institutionalized. But I, like Blanche, am very much dependent on the kindness of strangers at the moment. 

I'm dependent on the kindness of friends and family, too, of course. I could not have survived the past few months without the support of those closest to me. But I have been surprised, and moved, by the kindness also shown to me by strangers. 

The many local businesses who do work around my house and yard, for example, have been flexible and kind in scheduling appointments and explaining to me what they're doing so I can do it myself in the future, going above and beyond the expected services. Several of the invoices I received clearly reflect a very basic service, when in fact they provided much more. One invoice from a local vendor even listed, "Cost of services: $X. Amount due: $0." Sometimes it isn't even people who know my current situation. I replaced my son's cell phone the other day, and when I thanked the technician for setting up the phone, commenting, "It was worth every penny of the service fee!", he paused and said, "I think I can refund that fee for you." And he did. It was an unexpected kindness, and it made a difference in my day. 

Sometimes the strangers are acquaintances rather than tradespeople or vendors. Various organizations that my kids participate in have covered or discounted fees and offered transportation assistance. Volunteer positions I held but couldn't quite manage for a while were quietly covered by others stepping in, frequently by people I didn't know or at least didn't know well. I have a stack of books on grief and loss on my bedside table sent or recommended by friends of friends who have experienced a similar loss. I received letters of condolence from friends of my husband that I had never met, and from my own high school and college friends and acquaintances with whom I had long ago lost touch. But they felt the need to reach out to me and offer me kindness. 

Kindness makes a difference. And after a loss, kindness is all the sweeter.

Before you know kindness as the deepest thing inside,
you must know sorrow as the other deepest thing.
You must wake up with sorrow.
You must speak to it till your voice
catches the thread of all sorrows
and you see the size of the cloth.
Then it is only kindness that makes sense anymore,
only kindness that ties your shoes
and sends you out into the day to gaze at bread,
only kindness that raises its head
from the crowd of the world to say
It is I you have been looking for,
and then goes with you everywhere
like a shadow or a friend.

-Excerpted from the poem "Kindness," by Naomi Shihab Nye (full poem here)

Fall Recipes, 2025 Edition

Cooking (and baking) is nearly as therapeutic for me as writing is, so I am very happy to be entering the fall season, which brings thoughts of cozy, hearty soups, oven-roasted vegetables, and rich, oven-baked entrees. They're called comfort foods for a reason: they bring to mind family gatherings around the dinner table, perhaps with a fire crackling cozily in the background, or a large pot of something delicious on the stove or in the oven filling the kitchen with an enticing aroma. Here are some of my favorite dishes that bring comfort to my body and soul, both while I'm making them and while I'm enjoying them with loved ones. 

Classic Beef Stew

You can make beef stew in a slow cooker or even an Instant Pot, but I think it's best when made on the stovetop. This is a good base recipe, but you can adjust it to your own preferences by adding whatever vegetables you have on hand (either fresh or frozen), using any kind of potatoes (including sweet potatoes), and using whatever combination of fresh or dried herbs you like for seasoning the meat.

Seasoning Mix
1-1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp dried crushed rosemary
1 tsp dried thyme
1 tsp dried marjoram
1 tsp paprika (I like smoked paprika)
1/2 tsp black pepper

Stew
2 Tbsp vegetable (plus more, if needed)
2 lbs beef stew meat, cut into bite-sized pieces
1 cup diced onion (frozen is fine)
2 ribs celery, chopped
1 tsp minced garlic
3 Tbsp tomato paste
1 cup medium to full-bodied red wine (Cabernet, Merlot, Malbec) - or substitute 1 cup beef broth plus 1 Tbsp red wine vinegar
2 cups beef broth
1 Tbsp Worcestershire sauce
1 bay leaf
1 lb baby potatoes, halved or quartered
3 or 4 carrots, peeled and cut into chunks
1 cup frozen peas
1/4 cup fresh parsley (optional)
1/4 cup water
2 Tbsp cornstarch

Combine all seasoning mix ingredients in a small bowl and set aside. In a large Dutch oven, heat the vegetable oil over medium-high heat. Add about half the meat to the pan (do not overcrowd pan) and sprinkle with two teaspoons of the seasoning mix. Saute until browned on all sides, then use a slotted spoon to remove to a large bowl. Repeat with remaining meat, reserving remaining seasoning mix. 

Add oil to pan if needed and add onion, celery, and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened. Stir in tomato paste. Add the red wine and increase heat until it comes to a boil, then add broth, Worcestershire sauce, remaining seasoning mix, and bay leaf. Return beef and any accumulated juices back to the pan, bring back to a boil, then reduce heat to low, cover, and simmer for 1-1/2 hours, until beef is fork-tender. 

Add potatoes and carrots and increase heat to high until boiling. Reduce heat to low and simmer for an additional 30-40 minutes, until vegetables are fork-tender. Stir in peas and parsley (if using). Combine cornstarch and water and stir into stew, then continue to cook, uncovered, until thickened. 

Roasted Butternut Squash and Bacon Soup

This hearty soup is a wonderful lunch or dinner when combined with a sandwich and/or a green salad, or a few slices of crusty bread. 

8 slices bacon, divided
3 lbs butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, chopped
2 Tbsp olive oil
3 cloves garlic, minced
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 tsp dried thyme
2-1/2 cups chicken stock (adjust to taste)
1/4 cup crumbled goat cheese 
2 Tbsp chopped fresh chives 

Preheat oven to 400 degrees and line a baking sheet with nonstick foil (or spray with nonstick spray). Dice 4 slices of the bacon and combine with cubed squash, onion, and bell pepper to form a single layer on the prepared sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and minced garlic, season with salt and pepper to taste, and gently toss to combine. Bake for 25-30 minutes, stirring halfway through, until squash is tender. 

While squash is baking, dice remaining bacon and cook in a large stockpot or Dutch oven over medium heat until browned and crispy (6-8 minutes). Transfer to a paper plate and do not drain fat. Add the roasted squash mixture and thyme to the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant (1-2 minutes), then remove from heat. Season with salt and pepper to taste, then add chicken stock and puree using an immersion blender. Return to heat and bring to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer until slightly thickened (5-10 minutes). If soup is too thick, add chicken stock as needed. Serve immediately, garnished with remaining bacon, goat cheese, and chives. 

Creamy Turkey Pumpkin Chili

A delicious hybrid of chili and bisque, this dish combines four of my favorite fall food words: creamy, turkey, pumpkin, and chili. What's not to love?

3 Tbsp olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
2 large carrots, sliced, chopped, or julienned
2 stalks celery, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Tbsp coriander
1 Tbsp paprika (I like smoked paprika)
1 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp crushed red chili or chili flakes
1/2 tsp black pepper
1-1/2 lbs ground turkey (can substitute ground pork or vegetarian crumble)
2 Tbsp chopped fresh rosemary, thyme, or sage, or a mixture
1 (15-oz) can pumpkin
2 (15-oz) cans cannellini beans, drained and rinsed
2 cups chicken broth
2 tsp salt, plus more to taste if needed
1/2 heavy or light cream or half and half (may be omitted)

Heat the oil in a large stockpot or Dutch oven over medium heat, then add onion, carrots, and celery and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened. Add garlic, coriander, paprika, cumin, red chili, and black pepper, stirring to coat in oil. Add the turkey and cook until no longer pink (about 8 minutes), stirring occasionally to break into pieces. Add remaining ingredients except cream and bring just to a boil, then reduce heat. Cover partially and simmer for 20 minutes, making sure it doesn't come to a full boil. Stir in cream, if using, and adjust seasoning as needed. 

Roasted Tomato Soup

Tomato soup from a can paired with a grilled cheese sandwich is good, but homemade roasted tomato soup brings it to a whole new level. Serve this soup with croutons, toast points, or crusty bread and a sprinkle of parmesan, or with grilled cheese made with a hearty bread and gruyere or Brie for a truly elegant and filling autumn meal. 

2 large tomatoes
1 medium onion, peeled and quartered
5-6 garlic cloves, peeled
7-10 baby carrots
2 Tbsp olive oil
Salt and pepper, to taste
½ tsp Italian seasoning
½ tsp paprika
½ tsp dried basil (or a few fresh leaves)
½ tsp chili flakes (optional)
1-1/2 cups chicken or vegetable broth
1 Tbsp cream or half and half (optional)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Arrange tomatoes, onion, garlic, and carrots on a baking sheet. Drizzle with olive oil and sprinkle with salt & pepper, Italian seasoning, paprika, basil, and chili (if using). Roast for 30-35 minutes, until soft and slightly caramelized. Combine seasoned vegetables and broth in a blender and puree until smooth. (You can also process in batches using an immersion blender.) Pour into a pot and bring to a simmer. Stir in cream, if desired. Adjust seasonings to taste. Serve with grilled cheese, or garnish soup with fresh basil, shredded or parmesan cheese, and croutons, as desired. 

Honey-Roasted Butternut Squash

The hint of sweetness from the honey and the spicy scent of the cinnamon turns this squash into a vegetable dish that even my picky kids will eat. You can make it with any size squash you want, just adjust the amounts of other ingredients slightly for a larger or smaller squash. 

1 butternut squash (about 3 lbs), peeled, seeded, and cut into bite-sized chunks (if the squash is difficult to cut, you can microwave it for 30 seconds or so to soften it slightly before slicing)
2 Tbsp olive oil
2 Tbsp honey
1/4 tsp cinnamon
salt and pepper, to taste

Line a baking sheet with nonstick foil or spray with nonstick spray and arrange squash pieces in a single layer. Drizzle with oil and honey and sprinkle with cinnamon, salt, and pepper, and toss thoroughly to coat. Toast in a 400-degree oven, on center rack, for 20-25 minutes, tossing halfway through, until squash is tender.

Ultimate Green Beans

The bacon adds smokiness, the lemon juice adds brightness, and the red pepper provides a hint of heat that makes these beans extra-delicious and comforting. 

2 slices bacon, diced
1/2 onion, finely diced
1 lb fresh green beans, trimmed
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
1/2 cup boiling water
1 Tbsp butter
1 tsp lemon juice
salt and pepper, to taste

In a large, deep skillet over medium-high heat, fry bacon until browned and crispy, then use a slotted spoon to scoop onto a paper towel-lined plate to drain. Cook onion in the drippings until soft, 5-7 minutes. Stir in beans and red pepper and cook for 2 additional minutes, then pour boiling water over and immediately cover tightly. Steam for 15 minutes, occasionally shaking skillet to avoid sticking. Add remaining ingredients and cook and stir until butter is melted. Sprinkle the bacon over and serve immediately. 

Easy Corn Casserole

This recipe isn't particularly healthy, but it's a yummy side dish that's quick and easy to throw together with ingredients that are probably already in your pantry and fridge. 

1 can (15.25-oz) creamed corn, undrained
1 can (15.25-oz) regular corn, drained
1 cup sour cream
1/2 cup butter, melted
2 large eggs, lightly beaten
1 (8.5-oz) box Jiffy cornbread mix
 

In a large mixing bowl, whisk together all ingredients except cornbread mix. Stir in mix until well combined. Pour into a buttered 8-inch casserole dish and bake at 350 degrees for 45 minutes, until top is golden and edges are slightly cracked. Center should be firm to the touch. 

Turkey and Stuffing Casserole

Although this is an excellent recipe for using up Thanksgiving leftovers, it can easily be made using a pre-cooked turkey breast or even turkey deli meat (just ask for it unsliced). You can also make it with cooked chicken. Feel free to use boxed stuffing mix, or try my favorite easy recipe from this blog post, and either instant or "real" mashed potatoes. 

4 cups prepared stuffing, divided
4 cups cooked turkey, chopped (about 1 lb)
3/4 cup mayonnaise, divided
1/4 cup cranberry sauce
2 cups prepared mashed potatoes
1-1/2 cups cheddar cheese, shredded

Spray an 8-inch baking dish with non-stick spray and spread half the stuffing on the bottom. Top with all the turkey. In a small bowl, whisk together 1/4 cup mayo and cranberry sauce and spread evenly over turkey. In another bowl, combine the remaining 1/2 cup mayo, potatoes, and cheese, and spread evenly over cranberry layer. Top with remaining stuffing. Bake at 375 for 25 minutes or until heated through. 

Smothered Baked Burritos

When my local grocery has rotisserie chickens on sale, I like to grab one for this recipe, and I make broth from the carcass while I'm cooking the burritos. This is one of my teenage kids' favorites. 

3 cups cooked chicken, shredded or diced
1 cup cooked rice
1 (15-oz) can black beans, rinsed and drained
1 cup frozen corn
1 cup salsa (or salsa verde)
1 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp cumin
salt and pepper, to taste
6 large flour tortillas
2-1/2 cups shredded Mexican cheese blend
1 (10-oz) can enchilada sauce (I use red with tomato salsa and green with salsa verde)
1 cup sour cream

In a large bowl, stir together chicken, rice, beans, corn, salsa, and spices. Lay each tortilla on a flat surface and form a thick line of filling, then top with cheese. Roll, tucking ends under, and arrange in a 9x13 baking dish. (I usually have filling left over.) Whisk together enchilada sauce and sour cream and pour over burritos. Sprinkle with cheese and bake at 375 degrees, uncovered, until bubbly and barely browned. Serve immediately. 

Red Wine Braised Short Ribs

This is one of my favorite dishes to order at a restaurant, but it's also easy to make at home. It's one of the few times I recommend serving a dish with "real" mashed potatoes instead of instant, because the heartier texture goes so well with the tender beef. 

3-4 lbs bone-in short rib pieces (can also use boneless short ribs or beef tips)
salt and pepper to taste
2 Tbsp olive oil
1 large onion, diced
2 stalks celery, diced
2 carrots, peeled and shredded or thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, crushed
2 Tbsp tomato paste
2 cups hearty red wine (Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, or Malbec; can also substitute beef broth with 1 Tbsp red wine vinegar)
3 cups beef broth
2 bay leaves
1 sprig fresh thyme
1 sprig oregano

Pat dry the meat and season generously with salt and pepper. Heat olive oil in large oven-proof Dutch oven or stockpot over medium-high heat. Brown in two batches for 5-6 minutes on each side, then transfer to a plate and set aside.

To the same pot, add diced onion and cook for 8-10 minutes or until translucent and softened. Add celery and carrots and cook for 3-5 minutes more. Add smashed garlic and tomato paste and cook for a few more minutes. Stir in wine, bring to a boil, lower the heat to medium, and simmer until reduced by half, about 15-20 minutes. (If not using wine, skip the reduction step and add all the beef broth at this point.) Add beef broth and stir. Return meat to pot, and add bay leaves, thyme and oregano. Cover tightly with lid and transfer to 350-degree oven. Cook for 2 ½-3 hours or until ribs are tender. Transfer meat to a plate and cover loosely with foil. Strain the sauce and discard the vegetables. Return the liquid to the pot and simmer until thickened. For a thicker sauce, combine 1 Tbsp cornstarch with 2 Tbsp water, stir in, and simmer until desired consistency is reached. Serve meat over mashed potatoes with sauce on the side. 

Beef Stroganoff

Be sure to thinly slice the mushrooms and cook them down fully for the most tender texture. You can serve this dish over mashed potatoes, but our family prefers it over extra-wide egg noodles. This is also a great camping recipe; simply make it ahead and reheat it over a stove or fire while boiling the noodles. 

3 Tbsp butter, divided
1 Tbsp vegetable oil
1 pound beef sirloin or tenderloin, thinly sliced
8 ounces cremini or white mushrooms, thinly sliced (you can use canned, but fresh is much better)
1 medium yellow onion, sliced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 cups beef broth
1 cup sour cream
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
2 tablespoons flour
8 oz egg noodles, cooked according to package directions
1 Tbsp fresh parsley, chopped (optional)

Heat one tablespoon of the butter and the vegetable oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat until melted and shimmering, about 1 minute. Add onions and mushrooms to the pan, stirring occasionally until golden brown and tender, about 5 minutes. Stir in minced garlic, cooking for 30 seconds until fragrant and just golden at the edges. Push veggies to the side and add beef strips in batches, searing until browned around the edges, about 2 minutes per side. Sprinkle flour evenly over the beef mixture, stirring constantly for 1 minute to cook out the raw taste and form a roux. Whisk mustard into beef broth and pour into pan, then bring to a gentle simmer for 3–4 minutes until sauce thickens slightly. Remove from heat and stir in sour cream, adjusting salt and pepper to taste. Spoon the beef and sauce over warm egg noodles, sprinkled with fresh parsley if desired.

Cider Dijon Pork Chops

Cider is my favorite fall flavor, so I frequently have it on hand, and its sweet-tart flavor cuts the richness of the creamy Dijon sauce. The recipe is quite rich, but can be lightened a bit by substituting half and half for cream if you prefer. 

4 boneless pork chops
salt and pepper, to taste
2 tsp olive oil
2 tsp minced garlic
1/2 cup apple cider
1 Tbsp whole grain Dijon mustard (you can use regular, but whole grain is better)
1/3 cup heavy cream (or light cream or half and half)
fresh rosemary sprigs (optional, for garnish)

Season pork chops with salt and pepper on both sides. Heat olive oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat for 1-2 minutes. Swirl to coat the pan. Add garlic and cook, stirring constantly, for about 1 more minute. Add chops to skillet and cook for 5-7 minutes per side, until cooked through. Remove chops to a plate and set aside. Pour cider into pan and scrape up the bits as you stir. Let the cider simmer for about 1 minute, then add mustard and stir in cream. Cook sauce for a few more minutes, then pour over chops and serve. Garnish with fresh rosemary, if desired.

Maple Bourbon Cider

What would any food blog of mine be without at least one cocktail recipe? Bourbon and cider are a lovely autumn combination, especially with a hint of sweetness from maple syrup and a touch of heat from the bitters. 

4 oz cider
3 oz bourbon
2 tsp lemon juice
1 tsp maple syrup
dash smoked chili bitters (or cayenne pepper)

Combine all ingredients in a cocktail shaker over ice and shake until well chilled. Pour into a cocktail glass and garnish with a twist of lemon. 

Bourbon Brulee Pumpkin Pie

Pumpkin pie is a fall classic, but adding bourbon and a sweet, crispy layer of torched sugar makes it special. This recipe is sure to be a hit on the Thanksgiving table or any time. You can substitute your own favorite pie crust recipe or use a ready-made standard or graham cracker crust. 

For the crust:
2 cups flour
1 Tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
3/4 cold butter, cut into pieces
1 egg, lightly beaten
1/2 tsp white vinegar
1/4 cup ice cold water
1 egg white, lightly beaten

For the filling:
3 eggs
1 (15-oz) can pumpkin
1/4 cup sour cream
2 Tbsp bourbon
2 Tbsp vanilla extract
1 tsp cinnamon
1/2 tsp salt
1/4 tsp ginger
1/4 tsp nutmeg
1/4 tsp cardamom
1/8 tsp allspice
3/4 cup real maple syrup
1 cup heavy cream
3 Tbsp sugar

Crust: In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt. Add the pieces of butter to the bowl and cut in with a pastry blender, or work in with your fingers, until small, coarse crumbs form. In a small bowl, whisk together the egg, vinegar, and water. Sprinkle over the flour mixture and blend with fingers until dough comes together. Wrap dough ball with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes. Roll the crust out into a 12-inch circle. Fold in half and lay in a 9-inch pie plate, unfolding as you go and trimming edges, crimping with fingers or fork if desired. Cover with parchment paper and fill with pie weights or dried beans. Bake at 375 degrees for 15 minutes, until barely golden. Remove from oven and brush with egg white. Reduce oven temperature to 350 degrees. 

Filling: In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, pumpkin, sour cream, bourbon, vanilla, and spices. In a small saucepan, heat the maple syrup to simmering and simmer for 2 to 3 minutes, until slightly thickened. Remove from heat and gradually whisk in cream. Whisk the maple mixture into the pumpkin mixture until combined. Pour filling into baked crust and bake at 350 for 55 to 60 minutes, until center is barely jiggling and set. Allow pie to cool completely. Pie may be refrigerated overnight at this point. 

When ready to serve, sprinkle sugar over top and caramelize with a kitchen torch or by placing under the broiler for a few minutes, until sugar is golden and crystallized. 

Bon Appetit!

I Don't Know

When I was young, I always worked very hard in school because I was determined to know everything the teachers had to teach. I hated having to answer, "I don't know," to anything. I still hate having to admit that I don't know something. I hate talking on the phone, especially to strangers and businesses, because I'm afraid they'll ask me a question that I don't have an answer to, and I'll have to say those horrible (to me) words: "I don't know."

Lately, I feel like I'm saying, "I don't know," a lot. The guys came to close my pool and asked where the plugs for the pool skimmers were. "I don't know." Someone asked if I could find a video my husband had taken a few years ago, and again I had to admit, "I don't know." I need to clear the pine needles off the driveway, but do I own a leaf blower? I don't know. I got a letter in the mail telling me I needed a certain document to complete a transaction. What is that document and where do I get it? I don't know. I need to sell my husband's car, and one of the interested parties lives in a different state. Will that affect the paperwork? I don't know. Will I be able to afford medical insurance if the prices go up as much as expected within the next year? I don't know. 

Will I ever feel confident in my ability to function as a competent adult again? I don't know. Will I be able to successfully coach both of my children through learning to drive? I don't know. Will I be able to figure out how to navigate college applications and financial aid forms? I don't know. Will I be able to find a job that pays better than working at a fast food joint? I don't know. Will I be able to find contractors to paint the house and replace the roof without getting conned or overpaying? I don't know. Will I be able to recoup my investment when I sell my house? I don't know. 

Will I ever feel normal again? 

I don't know. 

The Day I Lost It (and Got It Back)

Well, I'm not sure if anyone had October 23rd in the pool for the day that I would finally have a full-fledged meltdown but if it was you, congratulations. Because yesterday, I lost it. 

Please don't panic, because I got it back. But for a little while there, I lost it. I REALLY lost it. Sobbing, screaming, panicking, hyperventilating, nausea, desperate prayer, it was all there. 

It wasn't anything major that set it off. It wasn't a particular anniversary. There wasn't some kind of crisis. It may have been a build up of little things: still no response from the pool company about winterizing my pool; one more letter telling me I'd filled out a form incorrectly or incompletely so they'd need more information before they could do what I needed to have done; I couldn't find my video of how to turn on the furnace; one more bill I hadn't expected arrived; one more memory jumped into my brain that tore my heart open yet again. Some of it might have been the kindness of friends and family, as I continue to receive gifts and letters of condolence and sympathy, which although comforting tend to bring all my emotions bubbling to the surface. 

But I suspect that I've just reached the point of realizing that things aren't going to change. It's not a situation like when my husband went on a business trip for a week and I had to manage both kids and the house until he got home. This is it. This is how it is from now on. No one is coming to rescue me and fix all the mistakes I've made and the stuff I've screwed up while I was in charge. I AM in charge, and any screwups are mine to deal with. 

I hate it. 

And I'm going to keep hating it. But I'm also going to keep doing it. Because there isn't another option. Life doesn't stop because I'm struggling. I can't put my kids' lives on hold while I get my act together. All I can do is keep putting one foot in front of the other and dealing with today's problems today. I've always been a worrier, and right now I have plenty to worry about. But I'm trying not to worry any more than I need to. 

I keep thinking about the Bible verse that says, "My grace is sufficient for you," so I looked it up. The complete verse, 2 Corinthians 12:9, says, "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me." I hadn't realized (or at least, I had forgotten) that this verse is in the context of Paul talking about his "thorn in the flesh." We don't know exactly what this term refers to, but Paul describes it as being "a messenger of Satan, to torment me." Torment is a pretty strong word, so clearly, Paul was dealing with some stuff. And his response was not, "I am strong in the Lord, I can take this," but instead was more like, "I am weak, I can't deal with this alone." You and me both, Paul. I am weak. I can't deal with this alone. Human help is nice, and God bless my family and friends, I have a lot of it. But it's not enough. I need to rely on God's grace to get through this. 

And I will. But every now and then, I need to freak out a little bit. And that's okay. I'll be okay. But only by the grace of God. 

Words and Music

Ever since I was a little girl, two of my great pleasures in life have been reading and music. Even as an adult, I always have a few books on my Kindle or by my bedside that I read a few chapters from daily, and there is always music on in my house and in my car, and I'm frequently singing along with it. 

Over the past few months, grief had stolen both of those pleasures. I couldn't focus my mind long enough to follow the plot of a book, so although I occasionally picked up something to read, I put it down in frustration after a few minutes. And music in any form was so deeply associated with my husband that I could hardly bear to listen to it, and I couldn't sing a note without tears running down my face. Church was especially difficult, as the lyrics of the hymns were so deeply meaningful to me, and often spoke of pain and joy, one of which felt so close and one so incredibly distant. It made his loss even harder to bear, not having those lifelong comforts. 

But I have finally reached a point where I am beginning to be able to enjoy both books and music again. I began by reading a short chapter while I waited to pick up my son after his trombone lesson, or my daughter after her play rehearsal. Or I would put some music on while I was in the shower, so I could hear it, but distantly, or I would play some generic background music when guests came over. And as time has gone on, I've progressed to once again reading several chapters before bed - and, let's be honest, when I wake up in the middle of the night and can't get back to sleep - and turning on some music while I'm making dinner. I can even make it through the hymns at church without crying (most of the time).

One of the hardest parts of losing a spouse is that you lose the most crucial part of the system that supported and comforted you in difficult times. When I lost my mom, my husband was by my side to help me through it. When my brother-in-law died, I was by my husband's side to help him through it. But who do you turn to when the love of your life, your best friend, your confidante, your cheerleader, the one you always turned to, is the one you've lost? And when the things you used to do for comfort no longer comfort you, where do you turn?   

I am grateful for my faith in God, because there were times when I couldn't face even family and dear friends, and all I had to turn to was my faith. Psalm 34:18 says, "The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit," and I felt how true that was. Perhaps God chose to strip away all the human and earthly comforts I was used to in order to get me to focus on the only support I truly need, God Himself. And He has carried me through this darkest time of my life. 

I guess I must have shown that I do trust Him, and now I'm ready to embrace other comforts, and other pleasures. Like words, and music. I'm glad they're back. 

 

Celebrating Light

Today is the Hindu Festival of Diwali. I had never heard of Diwali until I moved to my current town, which has a large Indian population. So large that our school system has the day off for Diwali. So large, in fact, that there are multiple public celebrations of the holiday, including sometimes in the park across the street from where I live. 

If you're unfamiliar with the holiday, it is also called the Festival of Lights, and it is a multi-day celebration of the "victory of good over evil." Traditional celebrations include prayer, feasting, partying, music, family gatherings, fireworks, and lighting rows of clay lamps in homes and places of worship. According to the Hindu American Foundation, "The light from these lamps symbolizes the illumination within all of us, which can overcome ignorance, represented by darkness." The lights are necessary to welcome the goddess Lakshmi, who represents agriculture and abundance, into homes and temples, as Lakshmi cannot enter a dark space. Diwali is the beginning of the new year in the Hindu calendar, so it also represents a new beginning, starting fresh with a clean slate.

I love this symbolism. I am not Hindu, but since my community welcomes everyone to share in this joyous celebration, I am choosing to celebrate light and a new beginning alongside my neighbors. The past four months have been a time of darkness for me and my family. The struggle has gotten easier, but it is still a struggle. We all need to find ways to bring light into our lives again. Family, friends, music, good food, and light are all things that can lift our spirits and bring comfort to our souls. Yesterday was spent with cousins and siblings, and good food; today will be spent with friends and more good food, and prayer. And I will make sure there is plenty of physical light around, reminding us that we need to find our metaphorical light to continue to drive out the darkness and welcome in a new beginning in our lives where joy can return. 

We will celebrate the light. 

Bittersweet Endings

Yesterday, I went to see the final Downton Abbey movie. It was very bittersweet for me, not only because it was the end of a series I had thoroughly enjoyed, and the end of an interesting decades-long saga for the characters, but because it was the end of a journey I had begun with my husband and ended alone. 

My husband and I were surprisingly late to jump on the Downton Abbey train. I'm not sure why, but it took until his sister recommended it to him at the end of Season 1, and after watching the pilot episode, he announced excitedly that he knew I would love it (for the clothes, if nothing else), so we went back and watched the pilot together. And I was immediately hooked. 

The two of us didn't always have the same taste in shows and movies, although we loved finding things we could watch together. Most of the time, one of us loved a show and the other liked or at least tolerated it. 24, for example, was one of his favorites, and I thought it was just okay, but it was fun to watch together. The Great British Baking Show, on the other hand, was one that I loved and he thought was okay, but again, it was fun to watch together. Whenever we decided to watch a show together, each of us refrained from jumping ahead, waiting to watch an episode until we could do it together. Fortunately, we both loved Downton Abbey so much that we both eagerly watched each episode as soon as it was available. And when the series ended and the films were released, we went to see them together as soon as possible. Which meant that this final film was the only part of the series that I watched without him. 

It felt wrong. 

It didn't help that I went to a Tuesday matinee showing, which meant that the theater was nearly empty. I was as physically alone as I was emotionally alone. I was aware of every moment I would have leaned over and whispered a comment in his ear. I was very aware of every moment I would have put my hand on his knee. Near the end of the film, there is a lovely, tender moment between Lord and Lady Grantham where he tells her he loves her, and they reach for each other's hands, when I involuntarily lifted my hand to take his. But it wasn't there. He wasn't there. It was a moment of profound loneliness. 

And yet, it was also a moment of profound love, and of thankfulness that I had had the privilege of sharing so many years with someone who was touched by the moments that touched me, who actively sought out shared experiences, who was willing to spend time doing things he didn't love because I loved them. I saw some of us in every one of the beautiful love stories portrayed on the screen. 

I saw his loving tolerance of my awkwardness in Baxter's sweet smiles at Molesley. I saw his appreciation for my nudging him out of his occasional pigheadedness in Cora's standing her ground with Robert. I saw our romantic connection in Mary's memory of dancing with Matthew. I saw the sweetness of finding love at an older age in the relationships between Mr. Carson and Mrs. Hughes and between Mr. Mason and Mrs. Padmore. I remembered our early infatuation in the young love stage of Andy and Daisy. I thought of how I blossomed and developed confidence through our relationship as Edith stood up for opinions while Bertie stood back and watched with pride and affection. I thought of our hosting parties together as Cora managed things behind the scenes and Robert made a charming speech to their guests. 

And I saw myself in Mary, as she looked back at but memories of her past, recalling all the joyful moments she had spent in that house. And then the memories faded away, and she was left alone, facing the daunting task of managing Downton by herself. 

It was a bittersweet mix of happy memories and the pangs of loss. It was the ending of something we had begun together, but also the beginning of my learning to do things without him. I would rather have watched the movie with him, but I was still able to enjoy it alone. There are many things that I would rather be doing with him, but I am learning that I am able to do them alone. 

It's a bittersweet ending, but it's also a new beginning. Like the Downton characters, I can't see exactly where my future will lead, but I have confidence that things will somehow work out. I can look back and see all that I've overcome, and know that I can face whatever comes next. 

Even if I'm facing it alone.   

When It's Time to Change, Then It's Time to Change

I've always heard that when you go through a loss, such as the death of a spouse or other family member, it's a good idea to avoid making major decisions for quite some time, as long as a year or so. And for major decisions, I think that's wise. I'm not about to sell my house, or get a full-time job, or move to a different state, or buy a Ferrari, or start home-schooling my kids. But small changes can be therapeutic. They can help ease the transition from then to now. 

Which is why I've decided to make a few changes. Minor changes, to be sure; things like putting the inflatable Halloween tree in front of the house instead of in the back yard. 

I changed a number of our fall decorations in a small way: I put one of our lighted foam jack-o-lanterns on the porch instead of in the office window. I put the stuffed witch and skeleton that usually sit on the piano on either side of the antique Singer sewing machine instead (our cats often supervise family dinners from that location, so they are not fond of this change). I hung the scarecrow wreath in the kitchen instead of on the basement door. 

I got rid of some of our paid assistants, like our housecleaners and our lawn care crew. I am capable of cleaning the house and mowing the lawn with some help from the kids. Neither result is quite up to the same standard as when the professionals were in charge, but the work gets done. And if there are fingerprints on the refrigerator door, or the occasional dust kitty in a corner that the Roomba doesn't reach, or trails of lawn clippings across the yard, I'm okay with that. It's a change I can live with. 

I've changed my morning routine. I used to wake up around the same time as the kids and enjoy a cup of coffee in bed, not getting up until they were off to school. But I find I enjoy the peace and quiet of early morning as a preparation for the day, so now I get up before or right around sunrise and enjoy my coffee and morning crosswords as the sun is rising, so by the time the kids get on the bus I'm ready to start my day. 

I also decided to stop coloring my hair. I had dyed it red for a community theatre production I was in shortly before I met my husband (my online tagline was "Maryann disguised as Ginger" which tickled him to no end), and he was quite fond of the red (as was I), so I kept it up. But these days, dying my hair costs money and time that I'd rather spend elsewhere, and I'm curious as to how much gray is under there after nearly 20 years of Miss Clairol. So my last dye job was a couple of months ago, and I intend to shorten my cut periodically as my grey roots get longer. 

The awkwardness of the transition seems appropriate for the awkwardness of my current life transition. 

See? Awkward.

After all, the earlier state of both my life and my hair was something healthy that I liked and wanted to stick with, and the final state of both my life and my hair will be something healthy that I will like and want to stick with. But the middle ground, that awkward stage of "neither fish nor fowl" will likely be, well, awkward. It has been - and will continue to be - ugly, at times. It will look to others like I don't know what I'm doing (they're not wrong), or that I'm making terrible choices, or that I'm not taking care of myself they way they think I should. But I have a goal in mind, and I have a plan of how to get there. It's not a smooth road. I'll probably stumble and get lost along the way. There's a good chance I'll wish I had made different choices now and then. But I'll see it through. I'll endure the awkwardness for the sake of the final result. And if I get to that end result, and decide eventually that I didn't make the right choice? Well, the nice thing about both life and hair is that you can always change your mind. You may not be able to undo what was done, but you can always move forward. You just have to continue growing.