Author Archives: Gert

Flood Zone

08 Monday Jun 2015

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Weather stories about the fierce thunderstorms and rampant flooding that have plagued towns and cities across the U.S. have filled the news lately. The rising waters have swept houses off their foundations, and floated automobiles along like hapless toys. After hearing about so much sadness and destruction, it was nice to be on a road trip with nothing but sunshine and clear skies all around. On this particularly beautiful day, the possibility of becoming a part of one of those stories was the farthest thing from my mind.
Water view on a beautiful day

We were cruising along, marveling at the amazing views and speculating that based on the current water levels we were witnessing, this area had certainly been affected by the heavy rains and flooding.
Scenic Bay view

Without warning, we popped over a hill and ran into this…
Water flooding the highway

It was one of those moments when you have to make some big decisions while your brain is still trying to process the data it’s receiving. Traffic was moving forward and there wasn’t anywhere to pull over, turn around, or otherwise avoid getting wet. Or honked at. So, we continued on – in spite of all the warnings from one meteorologist after another, admonishing drivers against this very thing.
Truck cruising through flood area

I quickly assessed the car in front of us and decided that we should drop back a bit more and see what happened to them. Not in a sacrificial sort of way, just cautionary. Our cars were of similar size and distance from the ground, so I figured if they could make it through without stalling, we should be able to do the same.
IMG_0639

Besides, if I could still see the lines on the pavement the water couldn’t be very deep. And the guy sitting in the highway safety truck on the side of the road wasn’t trying to stop us, it had to be OK to proceed. Right?

I didn’t factor in the wake from the big, super-duty trucks traveling in the opposite direction in the next lane. That made for a few breath-holding moments.
IMG_0640

And then I saw this.
They appeared to be in exactly the situation I was hoping to avoid.
Cars sitting in flood waters

Now, this wasn’t exactly like crossing the Red Sea, but prayers were answered and we made it safely across, with the engine in my little HHR still chugging along. As we were exiting the waterway, I noticed these travelers about to enter the bay waters and wanted very much to warn them, “Don’t do it!” But, I didn’t. And I couldn’t stop to watch their progress. I hope they made it.
Bikers navigating flood waters

Oh, and the little town we were passing through…
Runaway Bay

Apropos.

Welcome Mats and False Hope

22 Friday May 2015

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Welcome

My daughter thinks it’s strange that I have this welcome mat placed outside the door leading to my laundry room rather than the traditional location on either side of the door leading into my home. I tried to convince her, over the course of several visits, that this location is perfectly normal.

There’s just something about a welcome mat that implies an openness to social interaction. This mat was purchased during a time when I thought I would make a sincere effort to be more social. It was a season of fresh starts and I had recently moved into my new space. I imagined that I would actually invite visitors in, announced or unannounced, providing them a safe harbor to wipe the dust from their feet prior to crossing the threshold into the inner sanctum. The effort was short-lived.

I’m one of those people who, unless I’m expecting company, is quite likely to ignore the tap-tap-tapping on my door. On those occasions when I have responded, I noticed that people had a tendency to look down and see the mat stationed just inside the doorway, with W-e-l-c-o-m-e spelled out in huge letters. And then they would look up with hope and the expectation that an invitation to enter my sanctuary was forthcoming. It wasn’t.

I started to feel a teensy bit bad for giving these people false hope, so I moved the mat to its current position outside the laundry room. It’s perfectly functional there – a snare for dryer lint and adventurous dust bunnies that attempt to hitch a ride to other parts of my home, and not a single shred of false hope.

On a recent visit (my children are always welcome and don’t need a mat to tell them so), my daughter questioned the placement of the mat again. I decided it was time to come clean. I explained to her that the mat had been strategically placed to prevent the escape of dryer lint, and to avoid giving false hope. She gave me a quizzical look that said, “I love you Mom, but do you have any idea how crazy that sounds when you say it out loud?”

I Ignored it, because she has given me that look before, and went on to explain that anybody who managed to get far enough inside to actually see the mat there, with its bold declaration, must be truly WELCOME. And then she understood. Because she knows me – and loves me anyway.

Dust Bunnies

16 Saturday May 2015

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Cleaning Supplies

I’m not a slob, but cleaning has never been on my top-ten list of fun things to do. If I could afford it, I would gladly pay someone who enjoys such tasks to come in and have a ball on a regular basis. I generally clean out of necessity, and because I have a strong desire to avoid embarrassment should one of my neighbors be so bold as to stop by in search of a cup of sugar.

I do enjoy occupying a clean space, but it’s still hard to explain this strange phenomenon when, every now and then, I wake up with an uncontrollable urge to clean. I’m not talking about that routine surface cleaning where you just clean what you typically see, those open areas with the exposed surfaces that aren’t covered by a large piece of furniture or a throw rug, I’m talking about that deep, move the sofa and chase the dust bunnies clean. I’m talking about that get on your hands and knees and scrub the baseboards clean. That kind of cleaning that reminds you what color the ceiling fan blades and window blinds really are.

I woke up this morning with that urge, and now, hours later, I feel refreshed and happy enough to actually answer the door should someone dare to knock. There isn’t anything quite like relaxing in a freshly cleaned space that practically sparkles.

I seem to get these urges periodically throughout the year, and they aren’t linked to any particular reason or season. At least none that I know of. I do find these sessions to be quite cathartic, and I use the time to just let my brain do its thing, whatever that “thing” happens to be. I was in the middle of cleaning a light fixture when I found myself laughing out loud. A memory of a previous urge being played out many years ago had popped into my head.

My daughter was around five or so, and we had been living in our new home for just a few months. By the time she came downstairs for her breakfast that morning I was already well into my spree. I was focused on that inconvenient space between the toilet and the bathtub when I heard her tiny voice calling to me from the doorway, “Mom.”

I looked up to see her standing there with her hands on her hips and a huge frown on her face, “What’s wrong Sweetie?”

I’m sure a million thoughts flashed through my mind in the split second before she answered, “Are we moving?”

“What? No. Why would you think we’re moving?” That wasn’t one of the million thoughts.

“Because you’re cleaning.”

Sometimes kids say the darndest things. I was speechless for a moment, and then I laughed and reassured her that we were going to stay put. For a while at least. We were a military family at the time, and in her short life she had already experienced three moves in three years. And it occurred to me that although she saw me cleaning on a fairly regular basis, my urges to deep clean had tended to precede a move back then. No wonder the child was worried.

To my daughter, if you happen to read this, no, I’m not moving – I just woke up this morning with an urge to chase dust bunnies.

Cinnamon Toast

10 Sunday May 2015

Posted by in Kitchen Creations

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Cinnamon Toast

Today is Mother’s Day. As I remember my own mother, I’m feeling just a touch nostalgic. On a day when most people may be thinking of flowers, and jewelry, and a special dinner Mom doesn’t have to prepare, I’m thinking about Cinnamon Toast.
supplies
My mother introduced us to Cinnamon Toast, just as her mother did for her. She had a special way of making it with a little square of butter in each corner of the bread, and one square in the center. It looked like the 5-spot on a domino. Sort of.
sugar
After getting the butter just right, she would sprinkle everything with granulated sugar and a light dusting of cinnamon.
Cinnamon
This was placed under the broiler for a few minutes until the butter was hot and melty, and the bread was toasted to a light golden brown. As it cooked, the sugar and cinnamon would transform into a magical blend of sweet, crunchy goodness. Yum!
Toast
As soon as it was cool enough to touch, she would cut it into triangles and we would dig in. It just doesn’t taste the same if it isn’t cut into triangles.
Cinnamon Toast
I’m sure there must be hundreds of recipes for Cinnamon Toast, but I wanted mine to look and taste the way it did when my mother made it for us back in the day.

I made this special treat for my children on several occasions when they were little, and they loved it. I wonder if they will look back on those memories someday with the same nostalgia I’m feeling. I wonder if they will serve it to their children, and tell them how my mother taught me to make it, just as I taught them. I wonder if the tradition of Cinnamon Toast will continue for generations to come.

I certainly hope so. And meanwhile, I’ll have to call my children and tell them to come over for breakfast, I’m making Cinnamon Toast.