We only have a few more days here in the desert before we pack up the few things we’re taking with us and head back to Denver. I’m looking forward to seeing my kids and grandkids, as always. But I leave here, also as always, with some sadness because I leave family behind in AZ as well.

Last night my brother came over for dinner. He was alone, as his wife was working and his youngest daughter was off doing grown-up college kind of things. He had called me the day before with a special request. Liver and onions. Go figure.

I was happy to comply, because both Bill and I like liver and onions on occasion, though I rarely make it for just the two of us. But I would have made my brother anything he asked for because there is no one I enjoy cooking for more than David. He loves to eat the things I make. And there is nothing a person that enjoys cooking likes more than seeing someone enjoy what they cooked!

But even more than the meal, I enjoyed the time we spent on our back patio yakking while he and Bill smoked a cigar and I waited for my onions to soften and my potatoes to cook. We talked about our kids and our grandkids. We reminisced about our favorite meals that Mom cooked us when we were small. We gnashed out all that was wrong with the world today. We talked and talked as the sun went down and the color of the sky softened and the birds became quieter.

That time with my brother reminded me that we have to appreciate every minute we have with those that we love. We can never get time back. Somber thought, but joyful as well if you look at it in the right way.

I read Killing Jesus this week (see yesterday’s book review), and one of the things that the book made me realize is that up until the very end, Jesus’ followers – even his closest friends – kept waiting for him to do something majestic, something to overthrow the regime. That last week, as they were walking to Jerusalem for what was to be the Last Supper and Jesus’ imminent death, John and James were arguing with the others about who would be Jesus’ right-hand men in the new regime following his overthrow of the Roman Empire. Up to the very end they didn’t really appreciate Jesus for what he was. Jesus must have wanted to slap his forehead and say, “Oy vey! Have you not listened to a thing I have been telling you about my suffering and death?” Clearly, the disciples eventually realized and understood it, but not until after Jesus and died and rose from the dead.

I am determined to strengthen my relationship with Jesus, working on it every day through prayer. And I am also determined to appreciate the people I love that are here with me now, and strengthen my relationship with them as well. A bit early for a new year’s resolution, but better now than never.

And, by the way, the liver and onions was delicious, but I won’t bother with the recipe. You won’t make it anyway.

I like pumpkin pie. In fact, all things considered, it’s probably my favorite kind of pie. Homemade pumpkin pie with freshly whipped cream, well, it’s just delicious.

And I don’t even mind pumpkin muffins, or pumpkin bread, or even pumpkin roll. But I guess I just am not a big fan of the everything-pumpkin that happens about this time every year.

I have to be careful so that I don’t come across as just crabby. I began complaining to my niece about my weariness of all things pumpkin and she told me she is so very happy this time of year because she can find pumpkin muffins and pumpkin lattes and pumpkin pancakes. So I recognize that this is just a matter of personal taste.

Still, at Bath and Body Works, there is a display of candles and body creams and fragrances that include Blueberry Pumpkin Patch and Pumpkin Pecan Waffles and Pumpkin Apple and Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin and Pumpkin Cupcake and Pumpkin Carving. Can Pumpkin Cupcake really smell that much different than Pumpkin Pecan Waffles? And frankly, after carving a pumpkin, I can’t wait to get that mess cleaned up because I think it smells really bad. I burn a citrus candle to get rid of that smell.

I have seen recipes for pumpkin chili and pumpkin alfredo and pumpkin grilled cheese and pumpkin deviled eggs and (this one’s hard for me to even write) pumpkin vinaigrette. Just not appealing to me. It reminds me that many years ago I made a pumpkin soup for my first course at Thanksgiving dinner, and it just didn’t go well. Maybe that accounts for my negative bias.

So, I look forward to a time (and very soon, judging from the early appearance of Christmas decorations at Target, Walmart, Hobby Lobby and Michael’s) when we will, instead, be doing everything peppermint. Now that’s a fragrance and taste I can get my nose and taste buds around.

The preceding blog post is not endorsed by Google, nor a single member of my family.

I really try to be patient and upbeat about technology. It obviously benefits me tremendously. I am a blogger. Twenty years ago that word made no sense. Well, to be honest, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me even now. But I am wholly cognizant of the things that technology does to improve my life.

However, one of my pet peeves is the endless loop that one gets in on the telephone when trying to take care of simple matters, like changing any kind of information. In the old days of rotary telephones, a person would simply call Edna at the phone company or Jerry at the bank and ask them to make the change. Edna would ask about your mom and dad, congratulate you on your daughter making the cheerleading squad, and make the necessary change. Same with Jerry.

Now, once it’s been established which language I speak, it is a series of loops, all of which almost NEVER get me to what I want. Sigh. By time I get to a human (by pressing the 0 button 10 or 20 times I have learned), I am so crabby that an apology is almost always necessary at the end of the conversation. After all, “Hank”, who claims to be in Texas, is actually in India and, no matter where he is, none of this is his fault. He is only trying to make a buck (or a rupee as it were).

But I guess if my grandmother could transition from a horse and carriage to a motor vehicle with grace, and accept that you could watch programs on a box in the living room, I should be able to be more patient when I am making a change that is allowing me to access nearly endless information on the world wide web.

So, the cold which has been playing around with me for the past few days finally caught up with me. I awoke yesterday morning with a sore throat and it felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. I’m really pretty hearty, but this one kind of knocked me on my behind.

So, I pretty much sat in my recliner chair in the family room and watched television all day. Let’s see, I watched three or four recorded Pioneer Woman shows (including one in which she made a yummy looking chicken Florentine in sixteen minutes), two episodes of Foyle’s War (my newest Masterpiece Theater obsession), an episode of Cedar Cove to meet my heightened need for romance in my weakened state, the Dancing With the Stars that we had recorded Monday night because we were watching our Denver Broncos TROUNCE the Oakland Raiders, an episode of Call the Midwife (my other new PBS obsession), and back to Food Network to watch Jamie Deen’s Home for Dinner. Count it out. It adds up to about nine hours of sitting on my rear end in my pajamas watching television. I did get up around noon and eat some canned chicken noodle soup.

While I was masquerading as a giant blob, my husband was working on his remodel project. He was busily sanding, hammering, painting, and cleaning paintbrushes. In between home improvement projects he was emptying mouse traps, paying the bills for which he is responsible, and getting the garbage cans out for the collectors to pick up.

The pinnacle was tonight, around 10, as we were heading up the stairs (my legs were weak from having not been used all day), he says to me, “Do you mind if I put up some shelves in my office tonight?” Ten o’clock at night and he is going to put up shelving. That’s what he’s doing right now. The man is the Energizer Bunny.

That, of course, makes me Jabba the Hut.

And, because I was sick, here is my soup recipe of the day:

Sisters can drive you crazy. I should know. I have two of them.

Your parents dress you alike. And even when they don’t, the younger sisters end up wearing the older sisters’ hand-me-downs. I remember having to wear my sister’s hand-me-down First Communion dress and thinking I just wanted to die of embarrassment. That was 50 years ago and I still cringe when I think of it.

I also remember, however, that my mom made my sister take me along with her on her dates when she was in high school. That must have been a riot for her and definitely evened out the embarrassment levels a bit. I’m surprised she speaks to me at all.

Of course, we would have gone to the mat for each other, even when we were children. And now we are the best of friends.

I keep this in mind when I watch the sisters among my grandchildren. And I particularly noticed it recently when I watched two of my grandchildren, sisters, ages 3 and 5. They have very different personalities and interests. While the 5-year-old wants to help me make cookies, the younger one uses the plastic hand mitts as shark puppets.

What kind of cookies should we make, I asked them. “M&M cookies.” “Chocolate Chip Cookies.” They speak simultaneously. What do you want for lunch, I ask. “Macaroni and cheese.” “Rice with soy sauce.” Once again simultaneously.

So we divide the dough in half and put chocolate chips in one half and M&Ms in the other. And thank goodness for those little individual containers of rice and mac and cheese because I can please them both.

Before long, the two of them are in the playroom having a tea party. I can hear them talking to each other and I know that they, too, would go to the mat for each other. Well, maybe not today, but sometime soon.

By the way, the title comes from a song from the movie White Christmas that is sung by Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen. It’s become the theme song for my sisters and me!

In the biblical story of Noah, God promises his obedient servant that he will never again destroy the world with a flood. He didn’t, however, say a word about northern Colorado.

If you live in Colorado, or have been watching the news, you know that we have been having torrential, historical rainfall. Like many weather phenomenon in this crazy state (probably because of the mountains, though I am not, of course, a meteorologist), the rain is hit and miss. So, I can leave my house where it is lightly raining, drive through a crazy downpour about a mile-and-a-half south of here, and arrive at my son’s house (about four miles away) to light rain. Because of this, it is hard to know who has been impacted by what the news people are calling the 100-Year Flood, and who hasn’t.

Well, once again, God has blessed us. Though a sister, a nephew, and my stepmother live in northern Colorado, none has (at least to date) had any problems with floodwaters. In fact, all of our family members who live in Colorado have remained high and dry. That’s pretty remarkable considering all the people who live literally 15 minutes north of here who are pumping out their basements or are confined to their homes because their streets are impassable.

I never understand why some people are burdened and some people are spared when there is a crisis. We certainly don’t deserve this blessing more than many others. Still, I will never look a gift horse in the mouth and am not forgetting to give thanks, as St. Paul suggested to the Philippians.

Today it is like the heavens broke loose and the rain just keeps on coming. I love rainy days; just wouldn’t want them every day. But a steady rainfall following weeks of dry, hot weather feels just right.

So this morning as I thought about what to make for breakfast on this chilly morning, what do you think came to my mind? A steamy hot bowl of oatmeal with brown sugar, blueberries and cream? Bacon and eggs, with home fried potatoes? A pan of freshly-baked cinnamon rolls?

Nope. This morning I made smoothies.

Smoothies don’t exactly equate with chilly, rainy days. Still, I had all of this fruit that was going to go to waste if I didn’t use it soon. And yogurt that was coming alarmingly close to its pull date (buying Greek yogurt by the case from Costco seems like such a good idea at the time).

Smoothies are easy, healthy, and taste like a treat. So smoothies it was.

I simply fill my blender with frozen berries, a couple of nectarines, a banana, some peach-mango juice, and two containers of Greek yogurt. Some people add spinach. My husband would not in a million years, ever, ever drink a green smoothie. So there. No spinach.

(I did, however, add a few tablespoons of Benefiber, something 20- or 30-somethings would not have to do. That’s all I’ll say about that.)

Pour my decidedly PINK fruit smoothie into a pretty glass and call it breakfast. Should I have chilled soup for lunch?

It’s unseasonably warm in Denver. Instead of normal temperatures of high 70s, we are wrestling with almost 100 degrees. Warm temperatures don’t stop the soccer season, however.

And for me, despite the weather, I was blessed. It isn’t every day that I am able to spend much of the day with two-thirds of my grandchildren! Even if at any given time, one of them was on a soccer field.

Three of them (siblings, ages 5, 7, and 8) had a game today at two different fields. Their older sister, age 10, helped me as I watched our other son’s two girls, ages 3 and 5. The temperature hovered around 95. It was hot. The kids tried to stay cool in a pop-up tent. I tried desperately to find someone with an umbrella to provide me with a bit of shade.

The kids are grand friends as well as cousins. It is fun and such a blessing for me to watch them all play together. In this day and age, where families are generally so far apart, it is a joy to have six of my grandchildren within a 15 minute drive of my house (and four of those six are merely a 5 minute walk away). We miss the others who live far away, but never forget them.

By the way, two out of three games ended in a victory for the good guys.