My Favorite White Linen Shirt, hanging on our Omaha Balcony
The last two days in Omaha have been exquisitely perfect with sunshine and gentle breezes, making for a lot of outside time, which is so refreshing!
I’m thinking of Mom hanging her laundry outside while we were growing up, and my friend, Susie, who does it still, so that the clothes and sheets can capture that air.
Here’s something I wrote on March 26, 2011 about that:
Upon arriving here (Kiawah Island, S.C.) yesterday, after a historical tour of Magnolia Plantation, and the cabins and marshes with alligators and azalias, Dan went golfing, and I went to my spa appointment. It was for a 90 minute facial. Imagine! To spend that much time on a spa bed, and be steamed, masked, stroked, heated and treated was unheard of in my life. It was so wonderful!!
As I was preparing to leave the locker room, I put a glass of ice water next to my cotton shirt. When I reached for the shirt, the water fell over and soaked the shirt. So I left with a tee shirt on, and carried the long sleeved overshirt.
Back in the room, I hung it over a balcony chair, which is where I found it this morning, on a sunny breezy Saturday.
I put it on, and I immediately felt like I too had spent the night on that balcony by the sea. Unbottled freshness!
Entry door handles, St. Michael the Archangel Church, Munich, Germany, 2014
A few years ago, when my friend Teri asked me to pray for a special intention, I responded with, “Yes, of course, my every breath is a prayer.” She thought that was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. This made me wonder where those words came from. Did I hear it, or read it somewhere? Or, was it original to me?
Growing up Catholic, I know the prayers to say. Some of them are the Our Father, Hail Mary, Bless us O Lord (before meals), and the Rosary for really big wishes from God.
A simple prayer we used to say often around the house was this: “St. Anthony, St. Anthony come around, something is lost and it must be found!” It usually worked.
While Dan and I were raising a family, our prayers were somewhat by the book, memorization and instruction. Going to Mass was expected and we all went together.
Later, when the kids were teenagers, I felt myself transitioning and praying with deeper meaning and more frequency. Some of it was in short bursts as they were leaving to go to school, or a job, or a game or a RAVE (scary thought). I’m sure they never witnessed me stepping out on the front porch and making the “Sign of the Cross” as they drove around the corner.
When my parents became sick in 2011, at 79 years of age, and passed away months later, it was so life changing. I transformed my praying to the uncomplicated “May God be with us” and “Thank you God for being with us.”
It was easy to say, and I said it so often, that it became an enormous comfort, and it still is. This personal, silent prayer is a way to practice my faith and get me motivated sometimes when I don’t want to do a “must do”.
I find myself saying it as we are discussing things of life (or death) at family reunions, or in the grocery store aisle with a favorite friend. I say it silently when a loved one goes away, and before I go away. Often, I ask Mom and Dad to be with me also.
My Grandma S. used to say something like, “See you next week, God willing.” At the time, I thought that was so depressing to hear her say that! Did she think she was going to die in the next few days? Now, I actually think it was her prayer showing trust in God’s plan. She was so joyful and grateful for each new day.
Proof that Dad is still with us, and the reason for Faith.
Dad’s favorite fishing place, Nelson Park, in Iowa, now has a bench to memorialize him. On the day it was installed, my brother, Marty, took this photo, because he liked the trees and the still water. It was only later that he saw Dad’s face reflected in that calm water (upper right from the bench, wearing a hat and sunglasses).
So, as I get older, I may be praying even more because there is so much to pray for. I just hope I don’t start saying “God willing”. I don’t want to scare the grandkids.
This past Sunday, St. Frances Cabrini Parish, in Little Italy, on 10th St., in Omaha, held their twice yearly spaghetti dinner.
My friends, Amy and Cathy, told me about it, as that is their parish. They both work at the event, and promote it.
So, early Sunday afternoon, I had it in mind that this would be our dinner! Take-out was an option and that was my plan.
Dan wasn’t so sure. He said, “ I like my own recipe better.” Now, do I deprive him of the pleasure of cooking and eating his favorite spaghetti? Yes, I think, because he had just made his recipe last week. It’s time to try this small parish’s dinner with MEATBALLS. We never make Italian meatballs. Besides, I want to support a parish fundraiser.
Oh! This is going to be fun!
Dan says, “You won’t find parking. Let me drive you, and you run in and get 2 dinners.”
“I will find parking,” I say, adding, “I don’t want this to be a quick drive through experience, where I’m rushing because you’re waiting outside in a car somewhere.”
No, I’d like to spend time in that old school or church basement, in line, and be part of the crowd, experiencing the culture of the whole event.
So, off I go! The first thing I notice on 10th St. is that there are so many cars parked, all the way to the Durham. As I get closer, it appears that no parking is available. I almost turn around and go home for plan B, Dan’s spaghetti.
However, what is this? A huge open parking lot, 3 blocks south. It’s the lot for Cascio’s Steakhouse restaurant, not currently open. I park there and take off walking. As a first timer, I’m unsure of where to go. Follow the people, I think. Walkers are everywhere. Then, I see the Take Out entrance. So organized! I get behind a couple who I overhear saying, “I guess we’ll find out”. First timers also.
Cannolis for Dessert
Once inside, I see a corner group of tables, with about 8 young women making cannolis on several pieces of stainless steel equipment, and filling each one. I buy 2, a chocolate and a vanilla.
Now, I’m in line to get dinner. I can see into the hectic kitchen, packed with volunteers. Before I left home, I considered bringing my own glass covered casserole dish, (for zero waste reasons), but decided it might spill out in the car on the drive home. For efficiency’s sake, I’m glad I didn’t. They had containers already filled with salad, fresh bread (Orsi’s, I think), pasta and meatballs.
I did bring my reusable vinyl bag.
On my way out, I mention to the person next to me that my favorite part was seeing the cannoli crew in action. She says to me, with an engaging smile, “My nonna used to do that in that corner.” The tradition made me smile too.
On the walk back to my car, I meet an older woman using a walker with her dog. She asks me where the dinner is, and if she is going in the right direction, “Yes”, I say, “It’s about a block or so, straight ahead.” Another first timer.
After Dan and I enjoy this dinner (we can share only one, the portion per dinner is so generous), I ask him, “ What do you think—did you like it?”
“I like my own better,” he answers. Predictable, ha!
As for me, I like both versions. But, the St. Frances Cabrini dinner had a lot more entertainment served with it. I was so happy!
This past weekend, I watched “A Chef’s Life” on PBS. Vivian is the chef, and she was being honored in Kentucky (for her new cookbook, I think), so the episode was about bourbon.
At the honoring dinner, they prepared and served Pepsi /peanut ice cream floats, topped with a little bourbon to your liking. Vivian said it represented the tobacco workers who would drop salted peanuts into their Pepsis on their breaks.
I immediately thought fondly of my Aunt Jan (Janet Thelen Overgaard) who would serve us this very same treat (salted peanuts dropped into a bottle of Pepsi—not the float) in the 1960’s. It was in Breda, IA, at Henrietta’s Cafe, where she worked.
I was inspired to try the float! So, off to Wohlner’s I go to get ice cream, peanuts, a bottle of Pepsi, and Bourbon. They don’t have peanut ice cream, only peanut butter, which would probably work too. But, I chose to add peanuts to vanilla ice cream.
So excited! This will be my lunch today. I drop a scoop of ice cream into the glass, add some peanuts, then the Pepsi. It is then that I realize I’ve bought flavored Pepsi! It’s vanilla, so it’s fine, but I really wanted only a regular Pepsi.
The wrong Pepsi
To make up for having the wrong Pepsi, I pour in a little bourbon. Yowza!! That was so good! This may be our signature condo cocktail (which I’m always dreaming about having but have never settled on one) to serve guests.
This has happened before, my not reading carefully. A few years ago, I complained to my quilting buddies about reaching for the conditioner instead of the shampoo in the shower, and sometimes mistaking the gel for the shampoo, if it happened to be nearby.
Bonnie gave me the tip of placing a big magic marker initial on each: S for shampoo and C for conditioner. Very useful! One year, our Mahoney Retreat quilters had a challenge project: Depict your favorite tip from Retreat in a small quilt. This was mine:
Tips and Treasures, 2014.
Here is something I wrote on 8-5-2010, at 3 AM:
Up at night, reflecting on the meaning of life. Thinking about lots of things at the lakehouse (like the hole in the basement floor-the covering should be more permanent than a board over it, and toilet replacements taking place on Bryan and Amy’s arrival day—does that mean we won’t have water?)
Also, thinking about how, when planning a residence, you can spend lots and lots of money and time and still not get it right. Or, you can make improvements and not get the value back when you sell.
Then, I think of the lakehouse itself. So expensive, and yet, it was built and furnished in 1990. Updating it would add more expense. Not likely to happen. And not worth it at this time. Proximity to the lake is its biggest asset.
All of this makes me hungry, so I go to have a bowl of Rice Krispies with bananas and milk, adding a spoonful of natural peanut butter on the side, which I’ve just opened and stirred. Uh oh! this tastes sweet! I bought the peanut butter with honey! Not my favorite.
I’m now reminded of a silly kid’s book we used to enjoy, “The Little Old Man Who Could Not Read”. When his wife goes away on a trip, he has to buy his own groceries. He buys buttermilk instead of regular milk, and onion soup instead of chicken soup.
And now, I have bought peanut butter with honey instead of regular peanut butter. I’ve become “ The Little Old Lady Who Could Not Read”
I’m such a fan of the stars and planets, learning more each day. So, this was the perfect gift! I’ve enjoyed seeing moon craters and Saturn’s rings and the redness of Mars. It’s always been pointed skyward, until this past weekend, when the floods came. Then, it occurred to me that I could aim it toward the river, which is to the east, and pretty far away, nestled below the Bluffs.
I can now see the old iron railroad bridge very clearly, and the water lapping it, and birds zooming by, as well as traffic along the freeway, toward the airport. I was startled during one viewing session when a Southwest jet crossed into the picture.
But I was REALLY SURPRISED and ENCHANTED when I looked through the telescope around sunset on March 17, 2019 and saw what looked like moving, multiple strings of lights in the darkening eastern sky. As I looked closer, (through the telescope, because I saw nothing with the naked eye), I saw that it was flocks of geese flying in formation with the sun reflecting off each one, as if a lit candle was somehow tucked into each bird’s wing!!
How to describe this further? I couldn’t photograph it—too far away, too transitory. So, I held the unbelievable image in my mind, and tried to project it onto this drawing, so maybe you can see it too, and imagine the wonder.
Flying Geese
Here’s to always looking, and to sometimes being surprised!
There is really nothing so energizing as anticipation! It lifts the spirits and gets us up in the morning to experience such things as:
The Sunrise!
The Coffee!
The Plans! (to meet Liz for coffee or Leigh for a beer, or in summer, to go back to the newly discovered mulberry tree in Midtown with a small container for harvesting).
The growth on a garden plant, the science and mystery!
The drawing or painting (or whatever passionate project) had been worked on the day before, seeing with fresh eyes!
Drawing, “Molly”
To read the book in progress!
The family’s upcoming weekend visit, and having them say to me, “See you soon! Warm hugs!”
The bread rising, anticipating the baking, the tasting!
The e-mail that told of a “cold package” gift arriving from Florida. What could it be? Citrus? Seafood? A Key Lime Pie? Oh, the anticipation!
To see how much snow we got, and how the wind might have sculpted it!
Snowy Balcony
Spring, after a long winter!
Midtown Crossing at Turner Park, Farnam St. entrance.
Here’s to looking forward to things, for all of us!
Husbands and wives should never go shopping together. Different views come into play in the shopping aisles! For instance, one wants to look at all the chips available or one wants to stand and read the list of ingredients while the other is in a hurry, and already at the checkout line waiting. No, it’s better to go separately and be at your leisure.
Here is something I wrote on August 2, 2010 after a co-shopping trip to WalMart in Spirit Lake, IA. It’s where I learned a valuable lesson about Dan’s clothes hanger preferences.
It is our 2nd co-visit to a Wal-Mart. The first was in Omaha. Our bid for a lakehouse had been accepted with closing in 2 weeks. We were euphoric and had to do something, so we went out and shopped for staples and supplies.
Now, it is two days after closing and we have spent 2 nights in the house. We are again euphoric! It’s been a lot of work but also a lot of fun.
We are going to WalMart in Spirit Lake (the only retail store there for the basics) for lots of things, such as laundry and waste baskets, garbage can, bathroom things, garage key pad, and hangers.
Oh yes, hangers. I reached for a package of plastic, thick hangers. Dan says, “I hate that kind. You like them but I hate them.” Hate? That’s a pretty strong word. Not understanding why anyone would hate my favorite white, “perfect for hanging damp clothing” hangers, I got miffed and defended them for the above reasons. “They take up too much room”, he said.
So, I reached for clear plastic hangers with metal hooks. “I don’t like those either”, he says. “the hooks spin around as you’re taking the shirt off of it.” Who would have thought?
I learned that he just wants plain wired old fashioned hangers that take up little space. He wants the kind that I’ve been clearing out of the house by returning them to the dry cleaners or trying to donate (do you know some thrift stores will not take hangers, and then, you have to sneak them into their drop boxes? Or, if you’re scrupulously honest, search out a store that will accept them?) I don’t like them because they get all twisty and tangly while using.
So, I learned a LOT in that store aisle discussion that actually became a little tense. Now, wire hangers hang on his side of the closet; I have a grand mix of hangers as I transistion to all wood, which really is my favorite.
The tension was still there as we were checking out. I see a pkg of 3 female disposable razors. I take it out and exclaim, “Oh my gosh, We don’t need these! I bought about 50 that are in the lakehouse bathroom cupboard. Dan says, “Oooooh! Good thing we’re not buying those”, all sarcastically, as if the $3.00 would break our budget. Communication breakdown. When he had asked me earlier about razors, I thought he was getting men’s, of which we have zero.
It isn’t about the budget. It’s about buying too much, too fast, and cluttering up our brand new (to us) lakehouse spaces. It’s out of control, (out of my control).
People seem to really enjoy the memory of seeing my snowquilts in Turner Park at Midtown Crossing. I know that I enjoyed making them! Now, 6 years later, it would be much harder to work on a ground of unmarked snow, due to many more residents using the park, which is great!
Here is something I wrote on 2-27-2013:
Today, I’m thinking about my snowquilts in Turner Park, and the whole process of that.
If I had a blog, I could write about the various thoughts and challenges in a day to day posting. That would be as much FUN as the snowquilt making! Writing and making are 2 of my favorite activities.
If I had a blog, I would post things like:
How Mom sent me the New Zealand snowquilts link by e-mail, and how the security guard knew about those when he walked over to see what I was doing.
How I was inspired one January morning in 2013 to try it in Turner Park.
How the temperature was 7 degrees and it took 5-6 hours to do the 9 patch blocks (the easiest I could think to do) in the 2-3 inches of snow.
How I used my feet to push, stomp and shove the snow where I needed it to go AND my hands to pick up big balls of snow to put into people’s footprints (because I wanted white in that space).
How I didn’t realize how cold I was until I came inside and the skin on the back of my legs was bright red and very cold. Flannel time!
How the activity was the most fun I’ve had in ages.
How I meditated while doing it, liking that it was a solo activity.
How it felt like I was in one of those garden mazes—reflective, tranquil.
How I would have gone on longer, but I was SERIOUSLY worried that my leg muscles would be too sore the next day (they weren’t; I’m actually in pretty good shape, I guess!).
How Marty and Sue were visiting that day, but away at the Med Center all day, and I felt the freedom to blissfully go out in the snow. Sue especially was so happy to see the snowquilt when she got back that evening.
How Dan was so surprised by it because he was out of town.
How Mom enjoyed it, staying here after chemo treatments for a few days, and we got to see how it changed as it melted.
Fading 9 patch
How Karen and others didn’t know when I posted the pic on facebook that it was in Omaha, and in Midtown Crossing, and that I was the one who did it, HA!
If I had a blog, I would post, with pictures:
How in Feb., when our next snowstorm was forecast, people were asking “Are you making a snowquilt?” and “If you do, let me know because I want to photograph it.” I didn’t want to disappoint, so when the snow came, I bundled up and got to work, making the “Snowball” block.
Beginning the “Snowball” pattern, Feb. 2013.Close-up of “Snowball” design, basically a square with contrasting corners, partially melted.
How this snowstorm dumped 8 “, which was much more difficult to clear.
How I worked for a couple of hours and had to take a break, exhausted and cold.
How then, when I’m studying it from our 8th floor view, I see a dog and its walker going right through my squares! Then another one and I was so annoyed!
How it occurred to me that the people RIGHT IN THE PARK do not see the quilt. I can’t even see what it is when I’m in the park working. But, I still thought to myself, they do have 90-95% of the park to walk in. And THEN, it occurred to me that this is all part of the process, of the fun gift I have from our Creator, to go out there in good health and vision, and make something. Then to see how it changes as people enjoy the snow and the park in their own way. A child even made a snow angel on top of one of my blocks!
How this activity is physical, spiritual, and intellectual because I have to measure the blocks with my feet (one giant step equals 3 ft.) and decide the pattern with my brain and when one idea doesn’t work out, switch to another.
If I had a blog, I would write and post pictures of:
How 3 days later, I wake up at 5 AM and go out in the dark crispness, to add a few more “stitches” to the making of this snowquilt. It’s just the security guard and me. When I ask him how he’s doing, he says, “Tired.”, and I know it’s nearing the end of his all night shift. The ground is frozen now, and so is the snow that I have to remove. So, I attack it aggressively and can not get down to the grass completely.
How later in the day, the sun is out, and I figure it’s my opportunity to finish the morning’s start. The park maintenance guy (who smiled and joked with me in January, while I was working, that “It’s going to melt!”) said “You need a shovel”. We didn’t keep our snow shovels when we moved to the condo, so I replied, “Yes, do you have one?” He did, and he loaned it to me for an hour, which really helped.
How I wonder which floors of the condo development can actually see it. Can the 2nd, or 3rd floor residents see it, or only the higher floors?
How it entertains and captivates me, to see this design in the park, under various light conditions, day and night.
How 5 days after beginning “Snowball” I’m wondering if I should continue to add to it. Is it worth my time?
How a part of me wants to see it extended at least all the way across the park, north to south, and a fantasy of mine is to have it fill the whole park, like a blanket.
How I contemplated the possibility of doing this in an open field in the country where no one was likely to walk through it, but then, no one would be able to see it either.
Shirley
A couple of my other snowquilts:
“Friendship Star”, 2-11-2014, beginnings, during snowfall.A few more blocks added, Feb. 2014.“Bowtie” with a 4 patch border, January, 2016. As I was working on this, a young man came over and offered to help. “You want to help me make a quilt?” I asked. “Oh no”, he said, “I thought you had lost something, and I was going to help you look for it.” Nice guy.
As I was starting this post, Dan says I should rename it to “Happy Days”.
Bryan, about 7, with his much desired Millenium Falcon
He’s right! We enjoyed those days, and we’re still savoring the days with grown children (3 sons and 1 daughter). If you happen to not have kids of your own, I hope you can get to know and cherish the nieces and nephews, friends’ and neighbors’ kids in your life.
Several months ago, Leigh and I were out walking somewhere, and I must have commented a few times on how cute the little boys were that we were seeing. She said something like, “Mom, you must really appreciate that age of boys.”
Brandon at 4. He was 4 in 1980; I drew this sketch from a photo.
She’s right! Here’s something I wrote on 9-20-2010:
Whenever I see a 4 year old little boy, I recall how that was my favorite era of our son’s lives.
Sometimes, these 4 year olds are wearing Star Wars T-shirts, 30 years after the movie came out. Then I REALLY get nostalgic and feel connected to that little boy.
So, when we arrived home one night from a trip, and I saw “The Star Wars Christmas” album (a gift long ago from Tony and Liz) on the dryer, I knew that one of our sons had been there.
Most likely, it was Conor, because his apartment was all packed up for his move to Colorado the next day, and we had invited him to sleep at the house. He might have visited Bryan and Amy, who had borrowed the album because our grandsons Sam and Gus love Star Wars. Now, it was being returned to us.
Having Conor spend his last night in Omaha, before moving, in our family home was a good thing. We just weren’t able to be there, due to pre-planned travel.
Still, knowing that he slept there before his 10 hour drive the next day, was comforting to this mother of that one time little four year old boy.
Conor, 4, and Leigh, 2. As you can see, everything Conor does she wants to do also.
A Chocolate Chip Cookie (the only kind there is, according to my brother, Tony).
It’s winter, I live in a condo, and I no longer shovel snow. I used to like shoveling snow, especially if no one had walked on it, tamping it down. It was exhilarating exercise in the fresh air, and useful. Sometimes, I kept going and did the older-than-me neighbor’s walks. In that case, the neighbor would open her door and yell out her thanks and say that I didn’t have to do that. I always said “It’s no bother, and now I can eat more cookies.”
That goes along with my life’s motto: “Work hard, play hard, and eat hearty”. This especially applies to cookies. I grew up eating cookies baked by Mom and both grandmas. Never did I think about how unhealthy they might be.
I only think of their welcoming comfort and deliciousness. Some examples of this in action are:
Baking a small batch, 4 to 6 cookies, from frozen little balls of dough, on a toaster oven tray. The toaster oven is gone, but the tray survives. This is great when hunger strikes or visitors stop by.
Trips home from college (and after married life) always led straightaway to the small chest freezer in the kitchen where Mom stored her cookies. I preferred them frozen at the time.
My sister- in -law, Peg, baked fresh cookies when we visited her, and Dan’s mother, Betty, in Cedar Falls, IA. It was a short visit in the afternoon made memorable.
My friend and neighbor, Nita, graciously shared her chocolate chip cookie recipe over coffee in her kitchen. I scribbled it down on a piece of paper from my purse that also told me how to send away for a free Star Wars figure.
Midwest Express flights (out of business long ago) always had hot cookies.
“Grandma Thelen” charcoal drawing by Shirley Neary, 1990
When our 4th child was born in 1983, my Grandma Philomena Boes Thelen from Breda, IA, came to visit. She brought along a coffee can (and it was a can, made out of aluminum or tin) filled with cookies. She wrote down the recipe for me, and personalized it with a hint on the back of the card, which makes me smile. It is our favorite cookie. A few times, I have gifted newborns’ families with these, in a recycled coffee container, just for fun and the memories.
Well used, and priceless, in Grandma’s handwriting.
Here is something I wrote on July 23, 2010:
There is a whole lot of energy in a freshly baked cookie, such as the power of the raw ingredients: the grains in the flour and oatmeal, the egg, and the butter.
There is the human energy to mix it up by hand into a batter, and electrical energy to bake it.
Then, the steam inside escapes while it is cooling, which is really noticeable if you try to cover or package the cookies too soon. The lid becomes covered with escaped steam.
And lastly, the caloric energy that is transferred back to the human who eats the cookie and also uses energy in chewing, digesting, moving, working, playing, and possibly baking more cookies!
On Writing, On Life 