Saturday Smile: Trim it Short Around the Ears, Marshall Dillon

In a most loving, pleasant way, I have been nagging — er, suggesting to Bill that he should get his hair cut. He finally did yesterday, going to a barber not too far from our house. When he got home, he told me that there were very many gun magazines to look through while waiting to get a haircut. That’s why he wasn’t surprised when his barber pulled back his white barber’s coat and showed him that he was, in fact, wearing a holster containing a pistol. In fact, it seems both barbers were packing heat. “I guess that barber shop won’t get robbed,” Bill said. I agreed, though he and I both acknowledged that it would seem to us that barber shops are not the first businesses to get robbed.

At any rate, if there was any doubt in our minds, this was further proof that AZ is, indeed, the wild, wild west……

arness1-obit-popup

Marshall Matt Dillon and his sidekick Chester packing heat and perhaps going to the barber in Dodge City.

Have a great weekend.

Friday Book Whimsy: Fiercombe Manor

searchI’ve mentioned  before that I love manor mysteries; you know, mysteries that take place in mysterious old houses with creepy caretakers or daunting housekeepers. So when a come across a book with the word manor right in its title, I am definitely going to give it a read.

Fiercombe Manor, a debut mystery novel by Kate Riordan, despite a few minor flaws, met, yes, even exceeded, my expectations. It was suitably creepy in the manner of Rebecca, the similarities a reader can’t fail to notice.

It’s 1933, and young and naïve Alice finds herself in a precarious position – pregnant by a married man who has no intention of leaving his wife after all. She confesses her situation to her horrified mother, herself a cold and unloving parent. The mother contacts her old friend Mrs. Jelphs, who is a housekeeper at Fiercombe Manor in Gloustershire, far away from London. The plan is for Alice to have her baby (which Mrs. Jelphs is told is the result of a brief marriage that ended when her husband was killed), then return to London and immediately give the baby up for adoption.

But when Alice arrives at Fiercombe Manor, (which is not occupied by the Stanton family who live abroad, but instead is lived in and managed by Mrs. Jelphs and a groundskeeper) she immediately begins to get creeped out by some of the noises she hears at night and stories she is told. Bit by bit, she learns of the homes’ former occupants. From that point forward, the story is told in the familiar back-and-forth style – Alice’s story and the story of Elizabeth Stanton. Sometimes I wish authors could be a bit more clever; nevertheless, both storylines are creative and compelling.

The book’s readers and reviewers draw a comparison between Mrs. Jelphs and Mrs. Danvers (the housekeeper in Rebecca). I don’t believe the comparison is justified. While Mrs. Jelphs clearly knows more than she is saying, she is ultimately kind and cares for Alice. Still, the whole notion of a young woman alone in a creepy mansion with only a suspicious-seeming housekeeper and a groundskeeper who keeps showing up in unexpected place clearly begs the reader to compare it to Rebecca.

There is a romantic element, as one of the Stanton heirs is a young man who has issues of his own. The romance doesn’t get in the way of the story, however.

I enjoyed the book very much, and found Riordan’s writing to be beautiful. I am looking forward to the author’s next book, which apparently will be a ghost story.

Here is a link to the book.

unnamed

Thursday Thoughts

The Weather Outside is Frightening
There are many reasons why I like living in AZ in the winter, but not having to shovel snow is certainly NOT among the least of them. While it has been a bit chilly as of late here in the Valley of the Sun, chilly means low 60s. So when Jen sent us this photo that she took yesterday…….

img_50591

Bill was oh-so-amused with himself when he sent back this photo, with a note indicating that because he was a bit chilly sitting outside, he was wearing flannel…..

bil-outside-smoke-cigar

As you could imagine, her sides hurt from laughing.

Singing
I had a couple of people requesting reviews of the movie Sing after I posted yesterday that I was seeing it with my sister Bec and her grands. Unfortunately, circumstances resulted in me being unable to see the movie, but I am determined to see it, even if I have to go by myself. Bill is very understanding, but not quite that understanding. Bec said it was oh-so-good, and that Mackenzie and Carter were absolutely riveted, barely fighting over the popcorn.

Ouch
I mentioned that Bill and I were both suffering a bit from back pain due to our sudden return to exercise. Bill is actually recovering much quicker than I. Nevertheless, we determined yesterday morning that rather than going to the gym, we would take a gentle walk in our neighborhood. Which he did. I, on the other hand, gave it a go, but my back hurt enough that the thought of getting a mile or so away and realizing I couldn’t make it back would be a bad thing. So I gave up the goat and came back home, while he continued on. Friday, my friends. I will be ready on Friday.

At the Movies
Bill is a member of the Screen Actors Guild, and as such, he gets access to movies that are likely contenders to awards. Generally the movies are so sad and depressing that we are reluctant to watch. Night before last, for example, we watched the movie Jackie. Now, I knew that it was the story of Jackie Kennedy in the days following the assassination, so I knew it was going to be somber. But my heavens. Slit my wrists right now. Bill asked me if I thought the acting was award-worthy, and I guess I think that it really isn’t. Natalie Portman just didn’t ring true to me. What can I say. Sad times, though, wasn’t it?

Ciao.

Homestead Settlers

Oh, who are the people in your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
In your neighborhood?
Say, who are the people in your neighborhood?
The people that you meet each day. – Big Bird

Bill and I have been in our AZ home now for a week and a couple of days. The first week after we arrive each year always feels kind of like a Disneyland vacation – lots of stimulation, tons of really good food, and a whole lot of fun. Really, it feels like a vacation more than real life.

But after New Year’s Day, Jen leaves to return to Colorado, we put our Season of Beef behind us, birthday celebrations slow down a bit, and it is time to get on with beginning our ordinary AZ life in earnest for the four months that we are here.

What does this mean in practical terms? It means going to the grocery store and buying items besides brownie mix, wine, and ingredients for guacamole. Things like eggs and milk. Maybe some low-fiber bread and a jar of peanut butter. Some chicken thighs to put in the freezer for use in dinner preparation.

Every year sometime around this time I write a blog about going to the grocery store to fill my pantry and refrigerator for the first time. I always complain about all of the other snow birds who arrived after New Year’s Day who are doing the same thing as I.

And it’s true that Monday, when, despite the fact that I firmly declared that I wouldn’t do it this year, I went to the grocery store along with everyone else. But given my new outlook on life and my commitment to making 2017 a year of joy and grace, I’m not going to complain. I mean it. I’m not going to complain.

But I admit that it is absolutely striking – shocking, really – when I look around my nearby Fry’s Supermarket (which I remind you every year is our Kroger store) and see that the majority of shoppers are snow birds. Well, if they’re not snow birds, they’re at least my age or older. Much older. When I’m shopping in Denver and I see that many elderly people, I look outside for the retirement community bus. But I don’t even bother any longer here because I know there is no bus. In the words of that great philosopher Big Bird, these are the people in my neighborhood.

But since I’m not getting cranky this year, I paid attention instead to the person who was probably my age helping a much older woman make her choices. “Mom, I tried these apricot preserves and I think you would really like them.” “That sounds real good,” her mom told her. I wonder if Court will ever help me pick out preserves.

I noticed the obviously-single old gent buying his groceries ahead of me in line – groceries that consisted of some frozen TV dinners, some sliced bread, and three or four containers of glazed donut holes. “I’m going to come to your house for breakfast tomorrow,” I told him. “Those donut holes look good.”

“Well, they sure are,” he assured me. “And you’re welcome to come to breakfast!”

I didn’t get annoyed at the woman in the electric scooter who nearly backed over me as I rushed to get something I had nearly forgotten. After all, she’s in an electric scooter, and I’m able to use my two good legs. Instead, I smiled at her and said, “Excuse me.” And she smiled back.

bill-kris-lilly

Bill and I enjoyed lunch in November with Lilly and Maggie.

Bill and I will soon fall into our regular routine which, frankly, once we’re settled, doesn’t look a lot different than our routine in Denver. No grandkids, of course, but lots of great nieces and great nephews who go a ways towards filling that void. In fact, I am going to see the movie Sing with my sister Bec and her two grands this very afternoon.

Bill and I already made our first visit to the gym on Monday, and then spent Tuesday walking gingerly because our backs were saying, “What did you do to me? What were you thinking?”

Little by little, our Mesa house will feel like home instead of vacation. And as the days get a bit warmer, being outside will remind us of why we come here in the winter anyway!

This post linked to the GRAND Social

2017: I Got This

imgresIt’s about this time every year that I do my annual New Year’s resolutions post. You know, where I say that I am going to pray more, eat less, exercise more, worry less, drink more water, drink less alcohol. And then, by the end of January, I am back to barely remembering my morning prayers, half-heartedly dragging myself to the gym once in a while with absolutely no enthusiasm, drinking less water and drinking more alcohol and worrying about my lack of commitment. Sigh.

So I decided I’m going to forgo resolutions and just think more about what I would like my 2017 to look like. And that’s a pretty easy task.

I would like to not see the inside of a hospital, or even an emergency room, in all of 2017. I don’t know if this is possible, but what I do know is that it has been an entire year since I’ve been admitted to a hospital, and despite a couple of ER visits, my overall health seems to be better. I don’t know if I can attribute this to my low-fiber diet and my increased water intake, but I know that both of those things haven’t hurt. Keep up the good work, Kris!

Bill had his semiannual appointment with his neurologist’s office right before Christmas to measure his Parkinson’s progression, and we were blessed to learn that there has once again been very little progression. So little, in fact, that the PA with whom he meets (because the doctor doesn’t even feel he needs to see him more than occasionally since he is progressing so slowly) suggested we might not have to come every six months. Bill and I nodded, but admitted afterwards to each other that we feel better getting their outlook every six months. But when we honestly answered her question about how often he — and by association, I — exercise, she would have said tsk, tsk if people actually said tsk, tsk.

Interestingly, she told us that his doctor (who is quite renowned within the field of neurology and movement disorders) believes that regular aerobic exercise is as beneficial to people with Parkinson’s as are the medications they take. And while the meds can often have yucky side effects, aerobic exercise does not. I wish that eating rib eye steaks and drinking martinis was just as effective, but I’m afraid it isn’t. So, it’s back to the gym, and not begrudgingly either. After all, God has been good enough to keep his progression slow, so we can do our part.

I think that for the most part, I am a positive person. As Bill is reading this statement, he is trying not to laugh. He would tell you that I worry about everything, and he is, in part, right. I tend to worry about a lot of things, many of which never transpire. He, on the other hand, worries little, and only about very specific things, but otherwise, lets life play out however it will. I feel compelled to say that life often successfully plays out for him because I worried about something and therefore was able to avert disaster. Let’s just say that had he been responsible for Christmas presents, he would have nine grandchildren looking at the absence of presents under the tree and saying, “Why Santy Claus, why?” just like Cindy Lou Who.

Regardless, I want my 2017 to be positive. While 2016 wasn’t as bad a year for me as I hear many people complaining about, there were still many things that stunk. A friend was diagnosed with cancer. Our country went through a very difficult and divisive presidential election. Our grandson Micah gave us a medical scare when he aspirated a rock into his lung, requiring emergency surgery.

I will admit that part of me is sad to say goodbye to every year because as you age, the years go by more quickly and the end of life (which young people think will never come) looms ominously closer every day.

But there is no point in concentrating on the negatives when there are so many positives in my life. And that’s what I intend to remember this year. So when I think about what I want my life to look like I 2017 as I indicated in the very beginning of this post, I realize that I want it to be full of smiles and joy and things that are good for me, like good books, great friends, awesome family time, great food, interesting travel, and lots of hugs and kisses from grandkids and friends and my husband.

2017: Watch out; here I come!

For good measure, here is the recipe my family uses for our annual New Year’s prime rib. I offered it to you a couple of years ago, but it’s time to give it to you once again.

the-beast-2017Herbed Rib Roast

 Ingredients
1 7-8 lb. prime rib roast (3-4 ribs)
1 T. whole black peppercorns
2 bay leaves
1 T. kosher salt
3 garlic cloves
1 t. chopped fresh thyme
1 t. chopped fresh rosemary
1 T. olive oil

Process
Grind peppercorns and salt to a powder in an electric coffee/spice grinder, then transfer to a mortar. Add garlic, thyme, and rosemary, pound to a smooth paste with pestle. Stir in oil. Rub paste over roast. Transfer roast to a rack set in a small flameproof roasting pan. Marinate, covered and chilled, at least 8 hours or up to 24 hours.

To cook:
Let roast stand at room temperature 1 hour. Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Roast beef in middle of oven 20 minutes. Reduce temperature to 350 degrees and roast beef until a thermometer inserted into center of meat registers 110 (for very rare, 120 for medium), 1-1/2 hours to 1-3/4 hours more. Transfer beef to a large platter and let stand, uncovered, 25 minutes. Meat will continue to cook, reaching about 130 for medium rare.

Taming the Beast

As I mentioned in an earlier blog post, the final weeks of each year are beef-intensive. The year 2017 began accordingly with a Big Beef Bang as Bill and I celebrated new year with most of our AZ family at Bec’s house. The guest of honor was what Bec began affectionally calling The Beast….

becs-prime-2

The day was kind of cool and rainy, rain being fairly unusual in this area, though not shocking. Still, there were a total of 17 bodies at Bec’s house who mostly couldn’t go outside. So the adults hung around the kitchen counter awaiting the grand entrance of The Beast, and the kids found ways to play despite being stuck indoors. There was a lot of hide-and-go-seek.hanging-out-new-years-2017

Bec removed the roast from the oven to rest…..

the-beast-2017

After resting for half an hour or so, Bill began to carve, first cutting up the bones…..

bones-the-beast

And then slicing the meat into serving size….

the-beast-2

sliced-beast

But it wasn’t all work and no play…..

bec-cooking-martini

And now we’re all ready to face 2017. While we’d like to say no more beef for awhile, it’s safe to say we all went home with a bag of leftovers.

Family. What a great way to start the new year.