Pat Bertram's Blog, page 107

Playing at Being an Author

Yesterday was a true delight. I went to the museum where the upcoming murder mystery dinner will take place and met with Art Guild members as well as those who had volunteered to act in my skit. It was a thrill to meet the various characters, especially when I realized how perfect the casting was — as if I had written the parts specifically for those people.

The mistress of ceremonies of our fictional speakeasy explained how the room would be laid out, the seating she had planned for several of the key players, and what would happen after the murder. (We couldn’t let the poor victim lie there unmoving for the rest of the evening!)[image error]

After the logistics session, I explained the basic scenario for the story, and then we began to read through the script, with each person saying their lines. And oh, wow! What a rush! Hearing the words I had written coming out of the mouths of other people made me feel like such a Svengali (a Svengali who was kind and had no sinister purposes, that is), as if I were controlling, for the moment, all those lives.

Everyone seemed pleased with their parts, and as we read through the few pages of scripted dialogue, they really got into it. I could feel the smile on my face when I realized this mystery could really work. (I wasn’t too worried since I knew adrenaline and excitement would carry everyone through the evening, but I had no experience with this sort of mystery game, had no idea how to go about creating one, and wasn’t sure how the finished game would play out.)

During the actual event, the words (and characters) will become less my creation and more theirs as they adlib, take things further than what I had suggested, and get other non-scripted guests to participate.

I am looking forward to the experience of seeing my characters in full costume take on a life of their own. Writing is generally a solitary activity, even something like this mystery. I did have some input from other Art Guild members, but mainly it was me, my computer, and whatever I could pull from my mind and from my copious research into the 1920s, horseracing scandals, the woman’s movement after the nineteenth amendment had passed, and especially — most especially — how to create a murder mystery dinner.

During all the research and thinking and grabbing at words, we writers don’t necessarily feel like authors. We are so tuned to what we are doing, we feel the work rather than feel ourselves doing the work. After the writing is finished, and (if we are lucky) people read our creation, we don’t necessarily feel like authors because we don’t see people reading what we wrote, and if we do, we can’t see what is going on in their head while they are reading, nor do we hear what they are experiencing because reading is generally a silent activity.

So to hear one’s words? To see the effect of one’s writing on others? To have a chance to actually play at being an author? Utterly priceless.

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[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Small Challenges of Homeownership

[image error]There have been a few small challenges I’ve faced lately in my new adventure of homeownership. For most people, especially if they are coupled, none of these things would even be considered challenges. The person who knows how to do things simply does them. But when you are alone, you have to hunker down and deal with the situation yourself.

For example, the other night the water went off. If the electricity goes out at night, a quick look out the window lets me know if it is an area outage or if the outage is mine alone. But with water, there’s no way to tell. I did look out the window to see if my neighbor’s lights were on — if so, I could have texted her to see if she was having the same problem. But she seemed to be down for the night. Since I couldn’t call her, couldn’t call the water company, I started to panic. There is nothing that makes a person feel so alone as when there is a problem and there’s no one around you can ask “What do I do now?”

Well, I took a deep breath and realized there was nothing I could do. It wasn’t as if I were in any danger, and I had plenty of water to drink, to brush my teeth and get cleaned up for the night. I even had enough to pour into the toilet tank in case I had a flush emergency. If there was a problem with my plumbing, such as a broken pipe, there wasn’t anything I could do in the middle of the night anyway.

So I went to bed. End of problem. Literally the end. When I got up, the water was back on.

Today, I dealt with another small situation — changing the furnace filter. I suppose I should have done it a couple of months ago, but I am not fond of going down to the basement, though it does seem a bit less dungeon-y than when I first moved here. When the walls and floor are painted, I hope that will be the end of the dungeon feeling, but there will always be those steep stairs to give me pause.

Still, I did what I needed to do. Luckily, I’d already been tutored on how to change the filter, so that wasn’t a problem. It did make me wonder though, what to do if the furnace goes out. Is there a gas shut off valve? Or does the furnace automatically shut off? I’ll have to ask next time the contractor comes (next week, maybe!)

I know what to do when the electricity goes out — mostly just wait until it comes on. (I have flashlights within easy reach, head lamps to make reading easy, and plenty of batteries.) I now know what to do when the water goes off. I know what to do when the smoke alarms start chirping. I even know what to do when they start shrieking for no reason (pull the crazy-making thing out of its socket!) I figured out how to change the battery on the thermostat when it needed changing.

So gradually I am meeting all these small challenges of homeownership, and once met, they are no longer a challenge.

There is always something new to contend with, however, and as long it’s not something dangerous, like the house filling up with gas fumes, I’ll be fine. If something dangerous does happen, well, I’ll do the best I can. Meantime, I am careful. Dryers have been known to start fires, so I never leave the house when the washer or dryer are being used. I am careful about turning off the stove and making sure there is nothing on the surface that can catch fire or melt. Even though it’s electric, it can still cause problems. (I once unthinkingly wiped a drip from the ceramic top, and melted a so-called cotton cloth. Since cotton doesn’t melt, it had obviously been mislabeled.)

I figure such good habits will serve me well in my old age when/if I get more forgetful and less vigilant. But that’s not problem for today, and hopefully, not ever. Supposedly, “sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.” And the challenges of homeownership are certainly sufficient unto each day without having to worry about things that may never happen.

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[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Mysteries

Editing the murder mystery I’ve been writing for a dinner at the local museum on February 9, seemed as involved as any other editing job. There were a few small inconsistencies to repair, but the main thing I had to do was to add lines so that the characters can introduce themselves. I didn’t want to do a program with the characters and their roles listed, because in a way, everyone who comes to the dinner will have a part — as a visitor to the speakeasy if for no other reason. Those who will be set apart as possible villains, though, will have to have a name, otherwise, how would anyone be able to vote for the dastardliest villain?

Tomorrow will be rehearsal, though mostly it will be a matter of setting up the logistics of the mystery. Although no one but the mistress of ceremonies will have many lines to say, I don’t expect anyone to memorize their parts. (They can if they want to, of course.) For the most part, they just need to know what they are supposed to be doing and how the whole thing fits together.

I’m hoping people will get into the spirit of the thing and not just sit back and watch as the story unfolds, but if people prefer to watch, that’s okay, too.

I feel as if I should be nervous about the murder mystery because after all, the story was my creation, but I’m not. Or at least, not very.

Maybe it’s because so much is going on. Not just meetings and preparing for the dinner and attending the mayor’s strategic planning sessions, but also the house. The excavator should be available for rent sometime next week, so I’ll get to watch a different sort of play unfold — digging the foundation and pouring the cement and whatever else it takes to start building a garage.

I wonder if the dig will uncover some other weird bit of mystery to go along with all the other mysterious artifacts we’ve uncovered, such as the cistern, ancient sewage pipes, water where no water should be, bloody shirts, and a few miscellaneous bones.

Whatever happens, the dig should be interesting!

And so will the murder mystery dinner. If you are in the area, please join us for an evening of food and frolic.

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***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Activities!

[image error]It still seems odd that I am so involved in activities after being in town for such a short time. (Not even a year yet.) It’s so not me. At least, it hasn’t been.

Today was one of those particularly busy days, starting with an early morning visit with the contractor who came to pick up his tools that I was holding hostage. I wasn’t really holding them hostage; it’s just that he left them here because he thought he’d be able to rent the excavator sooner than he was able to. He also wanted to talk about scheduling. Next week, he should have the excavator, so he will be able to dig the foundation for the garage. I hope for his sake, the weather warms up before he gets to work. Although it’s supposed to get up into the seventies this weekend, the temperature will drop considerably on Monday and Tuesday. (A low of 6˚ — brrrr.)

After he left, my next visitor arrived. She came to pick up the book (Unfinished) I’d donated to a fund raiser, and to buy a couple of others to auction off.

After she left, the president of the art guild arrived. We needed to go over the script for the mystery dinner — since she’s going to be the mistress of ceremonies of the speakeasy, she wanted to know what everyone will be doing, when they will be doing it, and how to cue the various skits. She also is the only one who knows who has volunteered to play the various speaking parts, so we were able to get the script cast and updated to make things simpler. (My part will be to sign people in, to take money at the door, and then later to tally up the votes for Most Dastardly Villain, best costume, and best actor.)

Since she is also one-half of the couple I bought the house from, we took the time to tour the changes that have been made to the place since I moved in.

Later, I will be going to a community dinner. I wasn’t planning on going — I’m exhausted, not just from lack of sleep (all of a sudden last night, the beginning to my next book showed up in my head took roost) but also from all the activity, but since I missed a potluck lunch earlier today (the monthly birthday celebration at the senior center), I figured I should at least do one thing to get me out of the house.

Whew! Just talking about all these activities has worn me out.

I’d better go read for a while, relax, and hope I’m still awake when it’s time to leave this evening.

***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

 

Strategic Planning

[image error]I attended another strategic planning session at the town hall last night, and I still find the sessions interesting on several accounts. It’s interesting to hear ideas and see the plan form, interesting to see who shows up, interesting to find that, although many of the original attendees have dropped out, I am still going.

Almost every place I have lived has exploded into a growth cycle a couple of years after I moved there. The only exception was the town I stayed when I was in California, but though I was present in the state for several years, I never moved there. (California might have a different slant on the matter, but I figure my point of view is the correct one, otherwise the growth would have been much greater than it was.)

I see that possibility for exponential growth here, too. Several people I have talked to have said the town should market itself as a retirement community, and apparently the mayor agrees, though I tend to think it will happen whether people want it or not.

The town is old, with a lot of cute old houses — cheap houses — crying out for a makeover. These houses are generally small, which makes them perfect for those who are downsizing. At the moment, less than half of the houses in town are owner-occupied, which is the crux of many of the town’s problems — a transient population, absentee ownership, and a general lack of caring about those properties. At the moment, there is a trickle of older people moving to the area because of the ability to buy a house. I am one of them. I never in my wildest dreams expected to be able to own a house. And yet here I am.

Some of the people I know are lifelong residents, others are people who left and came back here to retire, and the rest are like me — people who have moved here to live out our remaining years in homes that we own. We all have a stake in this town, more even than the youth growing up here. We are here to stay. Many of them are not. (And yet, very few of the people I know have been coming to the meetings, even those who have — or think they have — solutions to the stagnant economy.)

The problem with marketing this town as a retirement community is that there are no doctors in town and no urgent care. Though there are a couple of hospitals within a 30-mile radius (and ambulance service), there are no specialists in the whole southeastern part of the state. Most people end up going to the big cities along the front range for specialty care, such as cancer, or liver problems, or whatever.

Still, the southeastern part of Colorado has a fairly mild four-season climate, the mildest in Colorado. It does get cold in the winter and hot in the summer, but there are almost always a few comfortable hours each day for outside activities — early morning and evening in the summer; afternoon in the winter. Add that to a favorable housing market, as well as an active Area Agency on Aging that is trying to improve the lot of older folks, and this place is well set up for a retirement destination.

Whenever I have mentioned my belief that this town could explode in both population and housing costs, people scoff at me. Many of the rural folk have sold their water rights (which makes me wonder how many of them ever watched a classic western movie — most of those films are about water rights, the value of keeping them, and the importance of water to future self-governance), but for now, water is not the issue.

The history of Colorado during the past several decades shows the trend and makes me think I am correct about this place ready to explode in population and, unfortunately, housing costs. Every time California has a huge uptick in property values along with a corresponding downtick in moral values (on a political level, not a personal one), vast numbers of Californians move to Colorado, where property costs aren’t (or weren’t) as high. They generally move to the front range, causing those property prices to escalate, causing people in those cities to sell up and look for a cheaper area. This has happened often enough (there were at least two, probably three of these waves in the past three decades) that property values in most areas of the state have escalated accordingly. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t have moved back to the western slope where Jeff and I lived, because those property values increased beyond my means (and way beyond their true value.) I can’t even afford a place to rent there. The place where we lived now rents for three times what we paid.

So that leaves southeastern Colorado. The area i lagging way behind the rest of the state, which is why I like it and why I am here, but I truly don’t see it remaining this way. Any new growth, of course, would bring new problems — on the one hand, property values could rise to the point where the careless landlords will sell to people who will care for the property. But those same increased values will make it not quite as an attractive place to retire.

Hence, the strategic planning committee. The mayor and the council are already looking into the possibility of senior housing. (My concerns aren’t with housing or economic development so much as safety — making sure it’s safe to walk, making sure the crosswalks are accessible, and making sure that the less-than-law-abiding folk are kept in check.)

I don’t know whether my presence at these meetings is needed, but it’s been a good experience. At least, if the growth does come, especially if it comes in a way that doesn’t benefit me, I will have had my say.

***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

 

Life’s Little Mysteries

[image error]I’ve often pondered mysteries, such as the truth of conspiracy theories, if there are aliens, are there secret government agencies we know nothing about and if there are, what are they doing to us. Those mysteries formed the backbone of my first books.

My teenage angst centered around the meaning of life, and especially the meaning of my life, and though I never really found an answer, I came to an accommodation with the questions until after Jeff died. Then questions — oh, so many questions — haunted me. Who are we? Why are here? Is this all there is? Why are there still ties of love even though are loved ones are gone? Where did our loved ones go? Will we see them again? What is the meaning of life, and probably most haunting of all, what is the meaning of death? What happens to love when it is no longer needed?

The mysteries confounding me now are of a more prosaic nature. For example, in recent months, I bought white cotton pillow cases that collect dark lint. Nothing else in the house collects lint of that nature, so I have no idea where it comes from. It can’t come from the air. Because of sinus issues, I have to sleep propped on a stack of pillows, so it seems almost impossible for lint to collect between the pillows. And during the day, the pillows are propped against the headboard, so again, it seems impossible for them to collect lint.

I finally got frustrated, so I washed the pillow cases in a load by themselves, and threw a dryer sheet in the dryer when I dried them (though that is something I do not like doing). There was a smidgeon on lint in the lint trap, but most remained on the pillows.

Finally, I got out a roll of tape, and used the tape to remove the lint. This morning when I woke up, there wasn’t much lint on the pillow cases, but there was some. Are the pillow cases generating their own lint? But if so, why is it dark gray and not black?

Another thing that perplexes me is Tuesday. Why do so many things happen on Tuesday? Today, I had three different meetings to go to, plus I was supposed to play train dominoes with some friends. I went to one and a half meetings, passed on the game, and am preparing for the third meeting later on this evening.

See? Prosaic mysteries. Not exactly in the same category as the questions of life, death, and love.

Luckily, tomorrow is Wednesday, I have nothing scheduled, and I have plenty of tape to clean the pillowcases if necessary.

That will leave me open for more questions— vital or not — to pop into my head and baffle me.

***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Suits Me To a Tea

[image error]My next-door neighbor came over for afternoon tea yesterday. It was lovely and seemed such a small-town thing to do — heartwarming and congenial and a bit old fashioned. It was especially nice because I was able to show off my tea bag collection and use my author mugs. I still had a few mugs left from years ago, but when I recently broke a mug and needed to get new mugs of some sort, I unexpectedly discovered that my original mug order was still posted on the website, so all I had to do was reorder.

The mugs added to the general feeling of a small-town visit, probably because they don’t seem like blatant self-promoting, but a rather pleasant and personal touch.

I’m now sitting here at the computer with a cup tea, having just returned from a visit to the library a few blocks away. Another seemingly old-fashioned touch, this walk to the library, and a large part of my small-town experience.

Although some people around here make me leery (drug dealers, people who hang out in the alley behind my house, and a smattering of small time thieves), life in a small town suits me to a tea.

Admittedly, that’s not the way to write “to a T,” buy my spelling seems more in tune with the cozy “teatime” way I felt yesterday.

“To a T” does not, in fact, have anything to do with tea or golf tees or T-shirts or T-squares, but is a very old term, first used in 1693. To the best anyone can figure, the phrase came from a much older phrase, “to a tittle.” A tittle now means a speck, a tiny amount, or a small part of something but originally a tittle was a small part of a letter, like a dot or a stroke or a diacritical mark. So if something suits you to a T, it suits you to the smallest detail.

So technically, small town living does not suit me to a T since there’s the leery factor I mentioned above.

But it comes close — it’s only off by a tittle.

***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Getting Back Into Dancing

Now that much of the chaos of the past year is gone — buying a house, moving, settling in to a new town, meeting people, fixing things that need to be fixed — I’m gradually getting back into exercise. There is still much to do around the house, such as having a garage build and a bit of landscaping done, but on the days when no one is here working, there is certainly no reason for me not to exercise. Except laziness, of course, but that’s not a reason, just an excuse.

Nor is having all the stuff that was once in my garage piled into the back room (aka enclosed porch, aka exercise room) a reason. It finally dawned on me if I removed the folding table and chairs from my dining area, I have a perfectly acceptable workout space. Even better, it’s warmer than the back room.

So, having run out of excuses, I’ve had no other option than to exercise.

It’s appalling how quickly one loses flexibility when one has not been exercising or even stretching. (“One” meaning me, of course.) Yikes. I can still get down on the floor, so it won’t be long before I get some flexibility back. Meantime, I’ve been having fun practicing belly dance steps.

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From the first time I took a belly dance class, I thought it would be a perfect way for me to get in shape because it seems more intuitive — more natural — than other dances. (Ballet, for example, is known for going against nature, and it certainly went against my nature, though I did work to the best of my ability.) Although I loved the belly dance class, I became disenchanted because so much of the class time was taken up with performance talk and costume planning. What was left of the hour went to learning and practicing a routine, so there was not much time dedicated to basics.

Since I can now schedule my own “class,” I am focusing on basics. I’m curious to see if a concerted effort at this sort of exercise will have the benefits I hope for, but if not, well . . . dancing. Dancing in itself is a benefit. Every step I take, every move I make is a blessing, and I am grateful to still be ambulatory, still breathing on my own, still fairly active. (I was going to say “spry,” but I’m not old enough yet to be spry.)

I do miss the energy of choreographed dancing with a group — it always seemed I could do more than when I was by myself, but I don’t miss performing.

I did my first belly dance performance with the group only a few months after I starting taking classes, and though I was no slimmer then than I am now, I was okay with it — I had a fabulous costume, a flattering wig, and a great attitude: “This is who I am. Deal with it.” As time went on, I lost that attitude, and so performing became more of a chore and less of a joy, though I did retain the love of dancing for dancing’s sake.

Of all dance forms, belly dance seems to lend itself to solo dancing, to pulling energy from the soul rather than the spirit of a group, to being one with one’s body. It helps that I’m not dancing in front of a mirror — I can feel young and beautiful and graceful without the unpalatable truth glaring at me.

Once the garage is built and my back room available to me once more, I will be able to do some barre work, maybe some tap or jazz, and perhaps even Hawaiian. Until then, there’s me, a veil, an open floor, and belly dance.

***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Happy Lunar New Year

[image error]In honor of the Lunar New Year (Chinese New Year), I looked up my Chinese horoscope, and oh, my! People who cast star horoscopes generally try to put a good light on their predictions, but apparently, the same is not true of Chinese horoscopes. Mine for this Lunar New Year is: “Your horoscope is not very good at all. Your career development will be hindered. Your financial fortunes are not optimistic. You need to consider carefully to weigh gains and losses before making decisions. Your health luck is not ideal. Do not drink alcohols too much. But don’t be too worried, otherwise your situation will only get worse and worse.”

Really? Sheesh. I might as well go to bed and stay there until the next Lunar New Year.

There is the gentler star sign horoscope, however, to balance this rather dismal prediction, though looking closer, both horoscopes say the same thing.

Instead of: “Your horoscope is not very good at all,” the stars say: “All your daydreams could come crashing down. You won’t want to face the realities that slowly creep in. You’re tougher than you seem, though, so having to face the music can be a blessing in disguise.” Sure sounds as if I’m in for a rocky time.

Instead of: “Your career development will be hindered,” the stars say: “This can be a time for working on a project in advance of a launch date. You may be in a processing or hatching stage with a venture.” In other words, my career is going nowhere. To be honest, that’s to be expected. Although a publisher accepted my latest manuscript, I don’t have a publication date and I don’t expect one until the latter part of the year. And, although I have a book stewing in my brain pan, I have yet to write a single word.

Instead of: “Your financial fortunes are not optimistic,” the stars say: “You need to set aside enough money to meet unexpected expenses.” Well, so much for my financial fortunes this year!

Instead of: “You need to consider carefully to weigh gains and losses before making decisions,” the stars say: “You need to refrain from making major decisions in money matters, and you are not to incur any major expenses.” Oops. Too late. A garage isn’t exactly a minor expense.

Instead of: ‘Your health luck is not ideal,” the stars say: “Health issues may come to the fore. There can be some strains on mental and physical health.” That doesn’t sound appealing, but hopefully, being careful and taking care of myself will offset some of this not-so-good health luck.

Instead of: “Do not drink alcohols too much.,” the stars say: “You might often be tempted to escape your everyday responsibilities and challenges, and should avoid reliance on drugs or drinking.” Does that mean I have to forgo my single yearly Bailey’s Irish Cream toast to my mother? But, by any calculation, a single drink can’t be considered either “too much” or a “reliance on drugs or drinking,” so I think I’m safe.

Instead of: “Don’t be too worried, otherwise your situation will only get worse and worse,” the stars say: “The cosmos asks you now to surrender some of your attachments and to surrender to the unknown. Releasing control is necessary. You could feel that you are dealing with endings more than new beginnings in some areas of life during this transit, as you let go of outdated attachments. With self-discipline, you could find more joy and confidence.” So, basically, this is a year of not so good luck for me, but I shouldn’t worry, or it will get worse. Okay, got it.

The stars, at least, offer hope. “This is a time when you are filled with ideas about the future. You are planting seeds, so to speak, aiming to get started on projects that will reap rewards in the future. For the most part, you are likely to take advantage of this period in your life in order to expand your social life and friends base as well as to dream up exciting new paths for the future.” Apparently, if I can’t have good luck this year, there is always next year.

Fortunately, horoscopes have never reflected anything that has ever happened in my life, and despite this rather interesting research project today, I don’t expect these horoscopes to be any different.

So, let’s all have a happy Lunar New Year!

***

[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.

Shocker!

Of all the things I have said during my years, I think the thing that shocked people most was during a recent conversation about how everyone decorated their refrigerators. I said my refrigerator door was bare, and that statement sure brought me the stares!

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When Jeff and I were together, our refrigerator door was used as most people seem to use the door, as a bulletin board for shopping lists, notes, reminders, assorted magnets, and such. The only thing we lacked was children’s refrigerator art.

Before I moved here, I rented a room in a house where I had to share a refrigerator, and the guy I rented from kept his refrigerator door full of his niece’s artwork. I admit, she had talent, but for some reason, it irked me having to look at those same things day after day after day. (I think it wasn’t the art so much as the act — it clearly told us renters that we might live there, but it wasn’t really our home.) Though it wasn’t cause and effect (and least I don’t think it is), I’ve kept the door of my refrigerator door bare. The uncluttered look pleases me. I still jot down things I need to get at the store, but I keep the list in a drawer, which is just as accessible, if not more so, than the refrigerator door.

I don’t even like to keep things on my counter, though I have made a recent (and perhaps temporary) exception.

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A couple months ago, I posted a blog about how, when I was young, I wanted a toy oven, but more than that, I wanted the accessories — small baking pans, child-size utensils, and especially the miniature boxes of cake and muffin mixes. After reading that, my wonderful sister sent me a child’s set of pots and pans. Although they are stainless steel, they say “not for use on stove” so they sit on the counter, charming me with both their presence and the thoughtfulness that brought them to me.

Unlike most people, I don’t even keep appliances on the counter. Since I almost never eat bread, there’s no reason for a toaster, though if I ever find a toaster with narrow slots (rather than slots wide enough for bagels), I might change my mind. I have a blender, but it’s in a cupboard since I don’t use it. (Jeff was the one who used it — he made a protein drink every morning.) And I haven’t yet got caught up in the instant pot or air fryer fad. Which is great — I don’t have to sacrifice utility for clean counters.

It’s this desire for a clean look that helps overcome my natural laziness. Instead of shrugging off a mess with an “I’ll do it tomorrow” attitude, I take the extra few minutes to put everything to rights before I retire for the evening. That way I get to wake up to an inviting kitchen.

So, are you shocked?

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[image error]Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One. “Grief: The Inside Story is perfect and that is not hyperbole! It is exactly what folk who are grieving need to read.” –Leesa Healy, RN, GDAS GDAT, Emotional/Mental Health Therapist & Educator.