Sweet peas

I don't know if you remember a very early blog talking about sweet peas. It happened about 1924 or 1925. We were having a huge party in the spring or very early summer. Relatives and good friends were coming. I was sick and had a high temperature. I tried to stick it out but finally my mother said I had to go to bed. As she tucked me in I said, please save my portion of the peas for me. She promised. I have to tell you what kind of peas were served at the meal I missed. Every time we had guests, canned peas were served. The can was as big as a small can of tuna fish. No matter how many people were sitting around the table, peas were served. The peas were American and they were extremely expensive. 

I went to sleep happy in the promise I would get my share of peas. When I woke, with no temp. I asked about my peas. There were no left overs.

This morning I read the Wednesday food section and I read bout a dip that could be made with an avocado and garlic and hot peppers and frozen peas. this evening I made it and I finally had my portion of sweet peas. The recipie used a whole package of frozen sweet peas. All alone, with a drink of Rye Whiskey and sweet Vermouth and  huge plateful of this dip. I ate my fill of sweet peas and I hope I never run into another package of sweet peas. This took about 85 years.

The end of a wonderful visit

The girls stayed almost a week. Never have we had a better visit. I will describe our living quarters. Each building has four cottages. Mine is titled C. I think the one next to mine is D. If you walk around the building you come to A and B. The girls were lucky enough to be able to rent A. Only because it was between renters. There was nothing in the rooms except three blow up kind of mattresses made up with bedclothes and pillows and towels in the bathroom. They were so happy to be so close. And so was I.

On Friday, I think, my phone rang at 2am. It was one of the husbands calling about the Japanese Earthquake. Since their home is near the beach in Northern California, he was feeling uneasy about the Tsunami. I put on my wooden shoes and my robe and walked around the corner to tell Martha to turn on her phone. Couldn't have done that if they all had resided in the apartments in the big buildings. The Tsunami came in as a little bigger wave than normal, and with many, many surfers waiting for the big one. Many yacht harbors not far from Santa Cruiz had lots of destruction. All who read this would fell better if they sent at least $10 to the American Red Cross for help for the Japanese.   

Sunday all of us went to the Port Angeles Library to hear Jonathan Evison read parts of his new book. Since it deals with Port Angeles and the Elwah River and the dams, built in 1880ies and now the removal of the dams in 2011 or 12, the room was filled to the brim with interested people. I have given my book away but I think it is called West Of Here. I loved it.

Our next outing dealt with visiting the Dams. We drove and drove up a winding road, often with quite a lot of snow bordering the road which was very muddy. Finally we arrived and the girls had to investigate everything except the actual machinery. I have it on good reporting that one of my daughters crawled under a fence and hung over the edge to get a better picture of how far it was to the bottom. Glad I didn't know it at the time. Saturday we had invited friends for cocktails and meaningful edibles and we made home made Pizza. Yum. Monday Swedish friends called and asked to see the girls again and brought along Swedish Aquavit. We each had a nibble.

Monday the girls had to see the lower Dam and drove out again. This time I was smart enough to stay home. They were so excited when they returned, for they met a man out there who was able to tell them all about, both the Lower and the Upper Dam. Frankly, I now feel like Clark Gable.

I know a fellow inmate who had a knee replacement, who came home yesterday. I want to wish her well, but I won't try to see her until I hear that she happy about seeing people. She is lucky. She has a son who is going to stay with her for a month. God bless.

My house and my heart is full.

Yesterday my three daughters and I met for lunch at the Dockside Grill at John Wayne Marina in Sequim. I arrived first after driving from Port Angeles. And minutes later the three 'girls' arrived. We had a long, delicious lunch. Best of all was our involvement with our waitress, Emily, who, working with her parents and her brother, kept us entertained through the longer than usual lunch 'hour'. The food was interesting and exquisitely blended, and Emily even made us order a dessert that consisted of chocolate, chocolate cookie base, peanut butter, and whipped cream. It was a wonderful dessert, I mean it was one wonderful desert and four spoons. I am writing this blog to make sure that Emily's father knows what an asset his daughter is to his business.

More blogging after my daughters leave, a day I am not looking forward to.

Angels among us

This morning Dear Abby used the expression above. And I thought HOW TRUE. Every time I go out into town I meet several of the angels. Yesterday I went for breakfast at Mac Donald's. For the first time in my long life I had an Egg Mac Muffin. It was delicious and I will return for more. I also think the coffee was better than I get at home. I met the first angel of the day. As I was parking and getting out of the car, I saw a woman standing at a counter eating her breakfast, looking out the window. I struggled as usual to get into a standing position, got my cane, and then had my usual problem, one I have had since childhood, which door do I go into. The woman eating by the window must have seen me for she was at the first door, opened it for me and made me feel so welcome. If Abby had written about the angels among us yesterday I would have told her she was my angel. I felt so much more at ease after experiencing her welcome. And so my resolve is to tell people how important their helpful acts are. 

Revelation

I was sitting here reading Martha Alderson's latest news in her iZine. She was talking about the Front story and the Back story. I do not always understand everything I read but to me this was a huge revelation. In your writing you don't have to tell the back story as long as you yourself understand how it is affecting you.

My whole life has been affected by the abuse I suffered ass a child. I remember all the times my mother would tell her friends that she had wished to have two children. That her life was perfect until she became pregnant with me. How she had tried to lose the baby by following advice from people who knew things like that. Every minute detail seared itself into my memory. Suddenly I realized how important all those little snippets of gossip affected me, but the actual abuse, the physical abuse has had little effect on me. I was beaten with a rug beater on my bare back and behind so I could not go swimming at the beach because of welts and bruises. My hair was pulled so that huge sections of my scalp was exposed until new hair grew in. 

When punishment was meted out my mother wanted to see me cry. I would grit my teeth and swear I would not give her that satisfaction. And so my beatings became longer and longer. Not very smart of me. And now I am interested in realizing that the physical abuse never comes to mind, whereas the mind games are with me on a daily basis. Once I wrote a short story about my mother and her tribulations, and I felt I forgave her for what she did to me. But there are still scars somewhere in my mind.