Fortunately

I was born in love with Chinese food. My mother tells this story about a fall I took as a toddler. She and Auntie Dora couldn’t run down the flight of stairs as fast as I could tumble, and when I got to the bottom and they finally caught up with me, I had one thing to say for myself: I want Chinese food!

I don’t have it very often because I like taking for granted that my pants will zip. Fortune cookies are boring food, no salt, no sauce, no spice. But those little slips of paper keep me cracking them open. If I could write my own little slip of paper, though, and not have to ingest ungodly amounts of orange chicken and pork fried rice, (hold the egg, please) I think I would start like this:

• Be appropriately extravagant just for one day.
• Allow your inner over-achiever to lead you.
• Resist all tendencies to hide your head in your sphincter.

Nana

Accidents with bodily fluids were dissolving the dignity - the elegance she was born to and tried to pass on to my mother and me. I took her to the doctor because I wanted him to see the urgency of her condition. Her balance is off; her speech is halted in some labyrinth between her brain and her tongue. She tried to sauté her sneakers; for God’s sake, help me protect her.

Please, put her in the hospital so she doesn’t fall - or worse - when I’m at work. Give me some breathing room to find her a decent nursing home. I can’t piece together enough reliable help to watch her, dress her, toilet her, bathe her, feed her and enjoy what’s left of her.

I don’t know what he saw, but he asked her if she thought she needed a nursing home. Idiot! It took her a full minute to process the question and push out a “No!” Then, a pleading but trusting look at me.

“Nana, I just need to keep you safe. I don’t think I can do that in the house much longer.” Then Dr. Idiot mumbled something about the difficult decisions ahead of me. He said she looked good and that he looked forward to seeing us again.

And she smiled. I don’t know how or why, but she’s still gorgeous. He left us alone in his cramped examining room and it all hit me at once. I can’t take care of all of it, can’t put out all the fires, and there are so many fires, and all I‘ve got is tears.

I helped her out of the chair and set her up with the walker. As I rummaged for my keys, the tears and accompanying snot gave way, and I couldn’t count on advanced dementia to hide my full-on convulsive sobbing from one of the first people to ever dry my tears.

Ask anyone: I’m ugly when I cry. As the song goes, I still break just like a little girl – and at that time - last summer - with about the same frequency. But it had to stop, and not wanting her to see any more of it, I tried to hide it with a hug. But she stood there in my arms, my tiny, 91 year-old Nana, and she rocked me.

Part 2: The inexhaustible wisdom and power of the throwaway dessert

According to my fortune cookie:

Where there is will, there is way;
I should struggle as hard as I can for what I believe in;
If I only speak well of others, I need never whisper.

According to my fortune cookie:

I am welcome in any gathering;
I have inexhaustible wisdom and power;
I will spend old age in comfort and material wealth;
God will help me overcome any hardship.

According to my fortune cookie:

Serious trouble will bypass me;
Happiness always accompanies me;
Where there is will, there is way.

According to my fortune cookie,
It tastes sweet.

Reading My Messages

When the universe sends us messages of encouragement, the least we can do is take notes and share them with loved ones. With love and appreciation to my "Cinco Peeps," who all know who they are:

According to my fortune cookie:

• I should be able to make money and hold on to it;
• The days I work are the best days;
• Working hard will make me live a happy life.

According to my fortune cookie:
• When I hurry, I cannot walk with dignity;
• If I am afraid to shake the dice, I will never roll a six;
• I have a yearning for perfection.

According to my fortune cookie:
• I should take calculated risks,
which is quite different from being rash;
• There is a true and sincere friendship between us both;
• There is an airplane in my future.

According to my fortune cookie, I am the crispy noodle
in the vegetarian salad of life.

Lissa "Crispy Noodle" Hanson

Along the Edge

As predicted, it snowed this morning in Northern Virginia. Not a threatening, nuisance kind of snow – just clusters of flakes gathering on the forsythia for a moment, then gone in a blink. I had to laugh though, because just yesterday, my snowmen went down for their long summer’s nap.

That was this morning.

This afternoon, despite (ok, because of) the local news coverage of sunshine, yet disappointingly low temperatures on Cherry Blossom Festival weekend, Hubsy and I drove up the Potomac for a walk around the tidal basin. Maybe our tourist behavior is our way of savoring the local flavor while we’re still locals. Anyway, the crowds were small and well-behaved – far fewer sprigs broken off and tucked behind the ears of stylish young ladies. Plenty of winter accessories, though: I actually saw a little girl with a leopard-spotted faux fur hand muff.

Sometimes, it’s what you don’t see that makes an afternoon a little more special. In my case that would be slow moving pedestrians absent-mindedly uh-huhing into their cell phones while their children dangle over the murky drink. There was a fortunate absence of that today. Forgive me, I’ve spent the past week immersed in as much Jane Austen as time would allow.

Back to the Tidal Basin: There were plenty of tripods scattered about, so many photo opportunities for young families. We did that too, as Sonny and Chica were growing up. Really, who can resist? Clichés be damned! It’s Cherry Blossom season after all, and Cherry Blossoms make us all look a little more beautiful, fresh-faced – innocent, even.

Welcome, spring. Welcome back, pathologically optimistic aspect of my nature.

Packing up the Boys

The snowman collection comes out every Thanksgiving when we decorate the house for Christmas. For the past fifteen Christmas mornings, Hubsy, Sonny, or Chica has presented me with the newest addition to my fluffy, goofy little army. I don’t know who decided I should collect something, but I still don’t think it was my idea, not that I object. When your husband and small children decide you collect snowmen and build a Christmas shopping ritual around your next one, you definitely collect snowmen and you love every minute of it. And when your husband and grown children continue to build the collection, well, you amass some seriously adorable pieces.

When we take down the lights, tree and other decorations, the snowmen stay out. As a teacher who enjoys a good blizzard, I think of them as inspiration for the best kind of inclement weather for my profession. Seriously, for an educated woman, I have my superstitions, so the snow guys never get put away before the first of March. This year, it didn’t happen until today. Since we’ve probably had our last Christmas season in this house, I thought I’d capture the moment.

Anyway, here they are on display in Alexandria for the last time. They’ll come out again on November 24, at a location to be determined.

Going Dark

In one of my earliest posts, I promised to keep the writing in this forum - among other things - positive. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Really did.