Sharon Sala

It’s officially summer here in Oklahoma. Kids are sporting sunburns and zinc oxide on the bridge of their noses and Moms and Dads are running around in tees, shorts, and flip-flops. Even the ones who shouldn’t. LOL When I was a kid, we didn’t have a pool to swim in. We swam in the pond. With the ducks and the snakes and the fish and turtles and the occasional cow that would wander down to wade in and get a drink. Didn’t have the good sense to be scared. It was too hot and the water felt too good to get out. Someone asked me today what was one of my favorite summer memories and I immediately thought back to when we made homemade ice cream with the old crank ice cream bucket. It was a great big production. Daddy had to go into town to the ice plant and buy a great big chunk of ice…usually a thirty pounder. Brought it home wrapped up in burlap, driving as fast as he could. By the time he got there, Mother would have had the ice cream mix made and in the can it went. Then the can went in the bucket. Daddy clamped that handle across the top of the bucket, then we began filling the space around the can with chips of ice sprinkled with salt. If you didn’t have the salt to make the ice melt, it wouldn’t get cold enough. My job was to sit on the crank so it wouldn’t pop off when Daddy turned the handle. They either folded up some old burlap feed sacks, or a couple of mother’s old towels as a pad for me to sit on, but it didn’t change the fact that I was sitting on ice. So freaking cold. I couldn’t wait for the ice cream to freeze so we could eat it. I think my favorite was when the peaches would get ripe and Mother would make fresh peach ice cream. Lord. I can still remember how sweet and cold and creamy that was in my mouth, sitting in the grass beneath a big old shade tree. Temperature about 95 degrees in the shade and that wonderful cold treat in our bowl, melting almost faster than we could eat it. I miss those times. I miss those people. Everyone who was a part of that life is gone now except for my Mother, who doesn’t remember much of anything. But memories are a funny thing. Even though I can get ice cream now any time of day, any time of year, in almost any flavor, without having to sit on the crank and freeze my behind numb, the ice cream we eat now isn’t quite as good. Maybe it’s because Daddy’s big laugh is missing, and my little sister isn’t sneaking pieces of ice from the bucket, licking off the salt before popping them in her mouth. Maybe it was the ambiance that came with making it that made it taste better. At any rate, it’s hot outside and although I’m not sitting on a bucket of ice, I’m still yearning for that first bite of homemade peach ice cream, and the sound of my Mother’s voice, asking everyone if it tasted all right. Good memories. Good ice cream. Good times.

It’s been a while since I posted. Lots going on at the house. My Mother has had some more health issues that took precedence, sooooo………. Anyway, I’m baaaccck, and with news. I have a brand new trilogy coming out in back to back releases. The first book, BLOWN AWAY, is in stores now. The second book, TORN APART, will be released at the end of June, and the last book, SWEPT ASIDE, will be released at the end of July so you’ll have a new book each month to read by the pool…or in my case, inside where it’s cool and air-conditioned. As fair as I am, I can not be a sun-worshiper. LOL
So check out the books. Let me know how you like them and have a great summer.

It’s been very cold here in Oklahoma this winter. Colder and much snowier than normal. We’re already past 20 inches when in a normal year, 2 inches would have been unusual. We’re the home of ice. Wind and ice. I have to say I much prefer snow. At least the power doesn’t go out as readily. But it’s the cold that brings me to my post. As usual, I picked Daniel up from school yesterday, and on the way home he informed me that since Ash, his step-Dad, would be in class that night, he and Mama were going to walk down the street (about 4 or 5 blocks) to eat dinner out, then walk home. I asked him where they were going to eat. He said Sweet Basil, one of his favorites. Sweet Basil is a small, intimate little bistro serving Indian foods…curries, etc. He loves that stuff. I remarked that sounded like lots of fun, but that I’d never eaten there. Even before all the words were out of my mouth, I began to see the wheels turning in his head. Hey Grammy! You could come to dinner with us tonight. I said that was sweet and that I’d have to talk to Mama first. He said, Oh she won’t care and besides, if you go, we won’t have to walk. You can drive us. LOL I wasn’t the least bit insulted. I am well aware of how much I am loved. Daniel was only being practical, which is actually a trait I admire. So after a brief discussion with my daughter who quickly echoed Daniel’s invitation, I wound up at Sweet Basil for dinner. I’ve never eaten a lot of Indian food. I’m not a fan of curry or anything too hot, but after some help from Daniel and Kathy, I settled on some Spring Rolls, which were all vegetable wrapped in rice paper, (absolutely delicious), and some Shrimp Pad Thai. Yum. So when we were ordering, I asked Daniel what he was having. Evil Jungle Curry, he announced. I always get that. It’s hot but I like it. I smiled, but hid my shudder. Evil Jungle Curry? Yikes. By golly, when it came out, he plopped a serving of rice on his plate, spooned out a big pile of that hot curry and lit into it like it was chicken nuggets and tater tots. For an 8 year old, the boy has a very sophisticated palate. He also likes Sushi, lots of different Asian foods, and almost anything I cook except tomatoes. Neither he or his Mother like tomatoes. Weird. They can down Evil Jungle Curry but turn their noses up at a small red tomato. LOL Anyway… it was an unexpected treat to mark the end of a very ordinary day. And even better, Daniel and Mama had their ride home.

The Saturday before Christmas when all through the house…the only one who was stirring was me… in the kitchen…making stuff.  What kind of stuff?  Good stuff.  I thought my stuff was already good.  This stuff is better.  Lord.  Better stuff?  We’re dating…

Yes, I have officially lost my mind.  I blame it on reality TV and the idiots who participate.  I don’t want to see anymore people with a jillion kids, or crazy people who’ll jump off a mountain if someone will watch.  I just want my old TV shows back.  The ones with good drama.  Sometimes funny.  Sometimes sad.  But fiction, for God’s sake.   Isn’t there anyone left in the entertainment industry who has some creative imagination? 

Ok.  So I’m on a rant.  It’s sugar overload, I think.  I haven’t eaten real candy in over a year.  I’m making Christmas goodies and sampling them against Weight Watcher advise, I might add.   Don’t worry.  I haven’t lost complete control.  I’m just celebrating the Saturday before Christmas. 

Later

I’ve been Christmas shopping off and on for about a week, trying to get all the presents purchased before everything gets too picked over. I don’t like to shop unless I know exactly what I’m buying people. You know… that browsing through stores looking at “stuff” and just picking it out for someone because it’s pretty isn’t my thing. I like presents that either mean something special, or that they really really need/want. Then it’s fun. I LOVE what I have for my three granddaughters. They are SO going to freak. Bought it at Victoria’s Secret. No, it’s not any of their racy stuff, but at my granddaughters ages, anything with that dog logo or the color pink with a VS label is the bomb. I know because they told me. LOL Grandsons are easy. One wants anything Star Wars. The other wants anything Bakugon… Yes, I know I didn’t spell that right, but whatever. It’s some big transformer looking critter that he’s ALL about these days. Anyway, the kids are still so much fun to surprise. I’m still trying to figure out what I’m going to give my Mom. It has to be special – something that “takes her back” to her youth because that’s where her head is usually at these days. I’m not sure what it will be, but when I see it, I will know it.

Been having a lot of crazy dreams, which are giving me headaches. For those of you who don’t know, I dream my books, and dream dreams that make no sense, and dream dreams that scare the bejesus out of me. I don’t know why. It’s just the way my head works. The weird thing is that the dreams are of different places and different people, but the “theme” that stays the same between them is that I’m being judged for something and I’m hoping to win. Probably me buying one too many lottery tickets. LOL

I can’t wait to start holiday baking. It’s my favorite thing to do. Pretty cookies, fancy breads, yummy candies, all homemade. Makes the house smell heavenly. Downside is that I will want to taste it… all of it… and I can promise you, none of it is Weight Watcher friendly. So, pooh I say. Pooh on Weight Watchers when it’s time to bake. I will redeem myself later.

So, tonight before I go to bed, I plan on having a cup of hot Chai tea, look through a couple of cookbooks, and hope that my dreams change to something a little more interesting, or that I finally win the lottery, although you know…if I had my druthers…which one I would chose.

Later,
Sharon

Today is weird…sort of off-center, but I can’t put my finger on why it feels this way. Last night was Halloween, only the kids trick or treated the night before due to living in a college town and Saturday night was homecoming and a home game. So…nothing out of the ordinary. OU won their football game, but I’m not a sports fan, so it wasn’t the ups and downs of the game that unsettled me. Took Mother out to eat at noon. Had a good time. She is back to being happy with me which is good. My grandson spent a couple of hours here with me. We watched ICE AGE-Dawn of the Dinosaur movie. Laughed in all the right places and enjoy his company SO much. When I took him home, my daughter had a present for me. The cutest turquoise reversible jacket. So everything is good, you know? But something feels off. I’m not able to concentrate on writing, although I manage to get some work done each day. I think that it’s the uncertainty of each day – never knowing which cog is going to slip in Mother’s mind next – never knowing if she’s going to wake up from her nap and be in pain…or mad…or both. I have been preparing myself for the continuation of a deteriorating mental condition. It’s not like I didn’t know what was coming. But seeing the progression of this horrible disease from such an upfront and personal standpoint is heartwrenching. Maybe I just need to be thankful for the good days when they come and prepared for the others, just in case. I don’t know any other way to get through this with her. Keep us in your prayers.

I’m sad today. If you’ve read my blogs from the beginning, you know my Mother has Alzheimer’s. Sometimes her days are worse than others. Today is turning out to be one of my bad days, and it’s because of her condition. For whatever reason when I woke up this morning and looked in on her to ask how she’d slept, she was mad. I could tell, but let it slide. I know to let a bit of time pass and hope she’ll forget why she “thought” she was mad. God knows I didn’t do anything, but that’s not how the disease works. Sufferers “think” things have happened that haven’t. They imagine slights and mistreatments that never occurred. She’s come home accusing doctors and nurses of being mean to her when I was sitting right in the examining room with her and they were nothing but kind. I hate this disease. It destroys the people you love most and there’s nothing to do but watch it unfold with as much patience and grace as you can muster. So today I am in trouble with my Mother and don’t know why. When I asked her what was wrong, she teared up and said she didn’t want to talk about it. But the accusing glare on her face was all I needed to see. Whatever was wrong with her, I’m the one at fault. I’d laugh, but I’m afraid I would start crying instead. It’s heart-wrenching, and at the same time, it’s not her fault. She would be horrified if she knew what she sometimes said and did. I face each day with optimism. Today is just a little harder. Hopefully, tomorrow she’ll be all sunshine and chatter. One never knows. I just hope she’s forgotten whatever it is she thinks I’ve done. I might be all grown up, but it still hurts to be less in your parents eyes than you want to be.

I am congested. As if you couldn’t tell by the title of this post. According to the weatherman, everything that can mold, pollinate, shed and fluff is doing it and on high. I’m miserable. I’ve been sneezing and coughing for days. Can’t remember when my allergies were this bad. Yea, me! On a good note, I bought a new mattress. Been needing one for ages. At least if I ever get off to sleep, it’s in comfort. See, I CAN find the silver lining in a rain cloud. And speaking of rain clouds, it looks like it wants to rain. Now that Grandparents Day is over at Daniel’s school, (today) I don’t care what the weather does.

I had so much fun at his school and he was such a little “host”, serving me my snack before their little slide show program, directing me to the food lines in the cafeteria, then cleaning up my plate for me afterward. His Mother has done a bang up job teaching him some serious manners. Grammy was very proud.

My Mother has been in the hospital again. Spent Labor Day weekend there with chest pains and sky-high blood pressure. Always sends me into panic mode, but I can’t let her know. Turns out no heart attack this time, but her blood thinners had quit working. Blood was way too thick to pump properly. Adjusted meds and hope we’re on the right track again.

I’m working on the third book in a trilogy that comes out next year. Looking forward to the release. I think it’s supposed to be back to back releases in June, July, and August. The trilogy is called Storm Front. The first book is BLOWN AWAY, second is TORN APART, third is SWEPT ASIDE. It’s three separate stories happening in “same time” when a hurrican spawned tornado hits inland in Louisiana. Looking forward to the release.

This weekend is the County fair. Reminds me of my years growing up in 4-H Club. Always had exhibits for the County Fair.

So… I’m heading off to either take a nap or work on my book… or both… or neither.

It’s just one of those days, so it’s hard to know.

Later,
Sharon

A couple of days ago I drove north to the city where my son and his family live. He and his wife have three daughters, and the oldest, Chelsea, just graduated high school. It is, for me, a most bittersweet time, as I’m sure it is for Mom and Dad.

When Chelsea was little, they came home to visit almost every weekend. I couldn’t wait for them to arrive because I knew that, while I would be giving them a much needed break from parenting, Chelsea would be filling my heart with irreplacable memories. She was always as happy to see me as I was to see her. I was the first person to take her to see a movie – ever. We went to see The Lion King at a theater. She was enthralled. Two days after her high school graduation, I took my whole family, all ten of us, to see a traveling performance straight off Broadway of The Lion King on stage. Talk about a full circle moment. I caught glimpses of her face during the performance that reminded me so much of that time we spent together at the movies. Time so well spent and so fleeting.

She learned to walk when she was seven months old. By the time she was nine months old, she was running. And I mean, running, like an older child, with knees churning and her elbows flying. No stiff-legged, side-to-side steps for my baby girl. Nope.

Her mother has a most beautiful voice, so all the girls have been brought up listening to music. They all have really remarkable voices and perfect pitch. When she got a little older, Chelsea and I would dance. She would hear me put on some music, she’d come flying, hold out her hands and step up on my shoes. And that’s how we danced. Holding hands with her feet on top of mine. She would look up at me with an expression of such joy that the memory of her face still hurts my heart. Precious memories. Fleeting time.

So back to the reason for the visit a couple of days ago. Lunch and shopping with the girls. My eighteen-year old Chelsea, my thirteen-year old Logan, and my twelve-year old Leslie. OMG. Did we have fun? Lord, yes.

We shopped for new shoes… and they had to be Tom’s. If you don’t already know, that’s the shoe company that GIVES a new pair of shoes to a child in a needy country for every pair it sells. The girls were insistent that would be the brand, and it made me proud, knowing that even when they were getting treated, they were thinking of others.

After the shoes, we went to lunch. Their Mama works in the same city and met us at the restaurant. Getting to spend that short time with the woman I call my other daughter was the best. Later, after she left us, we hit yet another store, and I stood, watching and listening to the sisters chatter as they sifted through a store full of teen clothing. The best part was listening to their comments to each other, recommending colors that would look best with their sisters hair or skin. No criticisms, no teasing remarks about body shape or sizes. Just sisters, being sisters, and knowing that this very special time they were spending together was soon coming to an end. By fall, Chelsea will be out of the house and in college, and even though she will often visit, it will never be the same.

I’d gone through the same thing with my son, their father, once upon a time, and it was again, a most bittersweet time to be witnessing.

But my full circle moment came when we had finished our time together and we were heading home, Chelsea took me past the house she plans to live in with two of her girlfriends as she attends her local college. I thought the old neighborhood looked familiar, but when she told me the name of the street, for a moment, I couldn’t speak.

Call it fate. Call it kismet. Call it a passing the torch moment – but as fate would have it, she tells me she is going to be living on the same street her father lived on when he was in college there over twenty years earlier, and only six houses up from the very house in which he’d lived.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to relate what I was feeling. All I knew was that I was experiencing a true, full circle moment. It was time for the torch to be passed to the next generation.

I don’t know how long I’m going to be around to witness my granddaughters journeys, but I know that a part of me will live on forever through them and their dreams.

So… my daughter called me last night and told me that Daniel had a new idea for making money. He’s always wanting to earn a dollar for doing something… anything… whatever you can think up for him to do that’s worth a dollar to you, he’ll do it.

He’s all about the can of Armor-All when Mama’s car is getting washed. He sprays down the leather inside her car and polishes like the Energizer Bunny.

Anyway, all the cars that needed to be cleaned had been cleaned, and he was angling for a new job, so he approaches Mama last night with a new idea. Keep in mind, he just finished first grade, so his spelling isn’t the best and he knows it. And… since he wants to put out a new flyer in the neighborhood, he needs Mama’s help. “Mama, you write and I’ll talk,” he says, and so Kathy gets a magic marker and a piece of paper and they get down to business.

“Are you tired on Tuesday nights? Do you forget to take the trash to the curb? For a dollar, I’ll come to your house and roll your trash cans to the curb. Call Daniel to make a plan.” They added his phone number, made copies, and then up and down their block they went – on both sides of the street – stuffing the fliers in the neighbor’s mailboxes.

As of this writing, he has five customers lined up, with hopes of more and he’s already counting his dollars and figuring how much he’ll make in a month.

I had to laugh when I heard the news. Not only does the money man in training have himself a new route… but so does Mama. At seven, he won’t be walking the streets by himself. Nope. Come Tuesday evening, Daniel and Mama will be running the route, although I know who’s going to be collecting the dough and counting the money.

That would be my little money man. I hope he’s into saving, too. Someone’s gonna have to take care of Grammy when she gets too old to write books.

I’m thinking he might be the answer to my prayers.