Chocolate Sorrow

Monday morning's aren't so bad.

Not after having a lovely four day weekend spending quality time with family.

Not after having a relaxing Sunday evening at home because no evening church services means no nursery obligations.

Not after having a chance to get an extra half hour of sleep because the girlies are out of school.

Yep, although the day began with gray clouds and the drive to work included equal parts of rainy mist and spitting snowflakes, I was having a good morning.

The hair ... the make up ... the wardrobe ... everything seemed to come together this morning.

I had time for my tea and for my breakfast before heading (not rushing) out the door. Traffic flowed well and the music playing was good.

I was ready to face the day.

I knew it would be busy. It always is when we have had the office closed for more than a weekend. I was ready.

I was ready for 96 questions about how was my weekend, my Thanksgiving, etc.

I was ready for 96 exclamations over the new onslaught of cold and was I responsible questions. (For those who may not remember, I am evidently responsible for the weather that afflicts our residents.)

I was ready to find out that our boiler system had been out for two days, with no hot water available to over half our residents and the subsequent calls asking if we knew and the stories of frigid showers and baths and "during the war we would go six weeks without bathing".

I was ready to deal with the fact that it is first of the month and therefore, of course the accounting system must take itself offline with an error posting.

I was ready for the need to multitask several situations at one time - between phone, window and simply regular office tasks.

I was, however, NOT ready to find out that a particular resident had passed away during the wee hours of Thanksgiving morning.

Now, I've been doing this job for ten years and it's not the first resident death I've experienced, nor will it be the last. When you work with seniors, death is simply a part of life. There is always a tinge of sadness and, normally, I take a moment, say a prayer and then move on.

While I am not close to all my residents, there are some few who have wound themselves a bit tighter in my heart than others. Some that, I confess, I enjoy seeing, greeting and sharing an occasional moment with more than others. All my residents receive my courtesy and respect for their person, but there are some residents who, by their very nature, win my trust and care.

Ms. M was one of these.

Already a resident when I began working, Ms. M made an impression on me from the very start. She was one of those ladies that rolled with the punches life dealt and relied on her faith to keep her going. A strong woman in a fragile body, she would ride her scooter down to the lobby each day to enjoy a view other than that out her patio, to enjoy the sun. During the winter she particularly enjoyed sitting by the the fireplace in the living room, a change of scenery for a few minutes or a couple of hours.

Fiercely independent, Ms. M took care of all her affairs on her own. She would travel the city either for doctor appointments or shopping or simply going to see a movie via the Lift Bus through the city bus transportation.

Intensely private, her life - her comings and goings - were her own. Often found in the midst of group conversations, Ms. M would be the one to listen quietly and comment infrequently, rarely sharing personal experience, feelings, or thoughts.

Strong in her convictions, Ms. M was never one to "let it slide". She expected to be treated fairly and she treated others the same way. She didn't ask for extra favors, simply expected what was due - whether work by a housekeeper, or public transportation, etc.

Ms. M was on of those people whom I would on occasion make the comment more than once that I wanted "to be just like when I grew up."

Through the years Ms. M and I forged a friendship. Brief moments shared between us - a smiled greeting as she would pass my window, a pat on her back as I moved through the hallways - she was respectful of my time ... knowing I was busy ... simply enjoying the times when I could sit in the lobby for a moment and chat, yet never asking me to do so. She wouldn't ask, but she always appreciated. Ms. M trusted that I would keep her privacy and I trusted she would keep mine. Over the years Ms. M and I shared a few stories, light or serious, enjoying a few occasional moments in each other's company talking about family, health, and life in general.

Today has been a difficult Monday. But then ... the day of the week doesn't matter in this case. Although I rejoice that Ms. M is no longer in pain, no longer suffering, that she is happy and at peace in Heaven, my earthly heart is mourning the loss of the quiet presence of a kind woman.

Two quick stories I'd like to share about my Ms. M:

1) When I returned from my vacation, that first day, Ms. M. came past my window and greeted me with a true, heartfelt delight. She is the only resident with whom I shared some of my journey, and it was Ms. M. who, when I showed her my pictures of myself with Jensen & Jared, exclaimed that she knew them, that she watched Supernatural ... it was one of her favorite shows! She was happy that I had had the opportunity to go and to meet them, and happy that I had safely returned.

2) I cannot remember the first time, it's been years ago that she started stopping briefly at my window and quietly handing me a Hershey bar. She knew I love chocolate and seemed to have fun sporadically popping by and gifting me with the sweet treat. There was no regularity involved, yet she seemed to know when I could use that chocolatey sweetness the most. I would perhaps get a couple a week, sometimes a couple of weeks would pass without one. Nothing obvious ... just a simple clearing of the throat and a tap tap at my counter to get my attention, and then she would lay it down and head on down the hall or across the lobby. No conversation was needed. Of course, she knew by my lightning smile the pleasure it brought. She probably also caught on when I would dash out my door and wrap her in a hug that she had made me very happy.

I am going to miss my friend, Ms. M. Probably more than I can imagine at this time.

I'll miss her smile, her strength, her perserverence.

I'll miss her chocolate.

Life As I Know It Is Over

Did you feel the shift in the balance today?

I certainly did.

Life changed today.

It will never be the same.

Today two girlies turned thirteen.

Today I officially have three teenagers in my life.

Today, The Bickersons have joined their older sister in that transition period of life from child to young adult.

Today, instead of one package of raging adolescent hormones, I have three.

Three girlies that stand tall and beautiful, with intelligence and talent, that will - with the flip of an inner switch that no one can see, no one can control - without warning, mutate before my very eyes into a raging, weeping, screeching, foot stomping, chest heaving creature of warped defiance.

Then, just as suddenly, the mutation resolves and the transformation back into the sweet and lovely girlies that have been the light of my life and delight of my soul.

Yep ... It's happened. Life has marched on and now I am living in the danger zone. I have increased my whiplash insurance and purchased stock in my favorite haircolor . I have purchased mass quantities of migraine relief and stocked up the first aid kit with antiseptic and gauze, not to mention bandaids. I have also stocked up on various assortments of chocolates, including various types of brownies and ice cream, and made the aquaintace of a friendly bail bondsman.

Other than continual praying for an increase in my patience level, I don't know of anything else I can actually add to my survival kit.

I'd like to believe that weathering the coming years will be a breeze, however I have this fear that niggles in the back of my mind.

I keep hearing my mother's voice.

"I hope you have a teenage girl JUST LIKE YOU!"

The voice vibrates in triplicate.

Could someone please pass the paper bag? I feel the need to hyperventilate.

Decadence or Depravity?

I love chocolate. Anyone who has met me - in real life or virtually - knows this. It's not a hidden fact. Whether it's a bag of M&Ms, a Hershey bar, a slice of pie, a bag of Oreos, a box of Russell Stovers, a homemade brownie, a bon-bon from Godiva or simply, in a moment of desperation for help with a chocolate jonesing - a handful of chocolate chips straight from the bag, I love it. I enjoy it. I savor it. I can make it last. I have a way to make a large 1lb bag of M&Ms last a week - I eat one color a day.



White chocolate is good. It doesn't create the craving that regular chocolate does and it doesn't completely satisfy the way regular chocolate does, however it's good. I like it. I enjoy it. More to the point, I don't turn it down when offered.

Dark chocolate is ... in my opinion ... heaven. When they made dark chocolate M&Ms, I felt I had actually gone to heaven. I know that dark chocolate is all the craze now, what with it's lower fat counts and antioxidants, but ask my mom - I was sneaking chocolate chips since I was my girlies age. Dove chocolate was one of the first to package bite size pieces individually. I decided they were my heroes. There's something about dark chocolate that cannot be described, rich and appealing as it's silky smoothness melts in your mouth.


Excuse me, I need to take a moment and have a chocolate break.


One of my favorite movies is "Chocolat" but the reasons for that are a whole different blog and no, it's not just because it includes Johnny Depp. (Although that doesn't hurt.) In the movie, the chocolatier uses a special chili pepper in preparing her chocolate treats. I've always wanted to sample some of them - they look and sound delightful.


Now, in honesty, I must admit I am not a big chocolate ice cream eater. Through the years, my steady favorite has always been a double dip cone - bottom scoop regular chocolate chip and the top scoop mint chocolate chip. Regular, full-on chocolate ice cream just isn't my cup of tea. Unless it's a particularly intense night of Supernatural, and then, I will admit that nothing helps better than Ben & Jerry's Double Chocolate Fudge ice cream. Seriously.


I also tend to have an issue with chocolate pudding. I like it. I do. I will make it and enjoy it. However, again, in all honesty, if it comes to ready made pudding - vanilla is better. It's true. Still, chocolate pudding is something I indulge in from time to time.


Chocolate is a comfort food, a tasty treat, a moment of sinful decadence. It has been and will continue to be something I truly enjoy. In moments of low cash flow, I am content with my M&Ms. When I have saved and can splurge a bit, it will always contain a form of chocolate.


Yet, I have to admit I have found a chocolate that actually repulses me. I have no desire to indulge and the idea of it is repugnant to me. Not due to the taste, for I have not tasted it. I don't plan to, even if the opportunity were ever to arise. There are times when even I, in my chocolatey goodness loving, simply cannot find the justification.


Just last week it was announced on the news that a restaurant in New York City has made it into the Guiness Book of World Records for creating and serving the most expensive chocolate dessert. For $25,000.00 you can have your chocolate mousse-like dessert (see above picture), a blend of some of the most expensive chocolates from around the world, in an edible gold bowl, the pedestal encircled with a gold and diamond bracelet and served with a special gold spoon encrusted with diamonds. (For purchasing the dessert, you get to keep the bracelet and the spoon.)


Now ... I'm not dumb. I realize that the $25,000 isn't just for the chocolate that will be eaten, that a good portion of the cost is for the pedestal bracelet and fancy spoon. Without those, I'm pretty sure the dessert's cost is not going to be $25,000. However, that's not the reason for my being repulsed by the thought of this chocolate.


I simply can't wrap my mind around the thought that anyone ... anyone ... could justify in their minds the fact of spending the amount of money it would take to purchase a car, to purchase a small house, to partially put a child through college on a dessert! The cost of this chocolate is more than many, many people make in a year. My mind cannot wrap itself around any type of reasoning that would justify spending that amount of money for a dessert that takes about 15 to 30 minutes to eat, has no nutritional value, and ... well ... let's face it, doesn't stay with you.


That's not decadence. That's depravity.


My prayer is simple. If fortune were ever to befall me, I pray that I have the intelligence to continue to enjoy my M&Ms and use that money for something a bit more worthwhile.

The Day After

I didn't get to go trick or treating last night. I missed it. I really and truly did. With the exception of one time 9 years ago, I haven't missed a year of wandering the streets of our neighborhood with either one, two, or three kids - gathering candy, checking out the other little goblins and ghouls, and simply enjoying the evening.

I missed the costumes and the mad rush to figure out how best to put on the make up.

I missed the scramble for flashlights and the figuring out whether coats would be needed (and if so ... how to get the coat UNDER the costume).

I missed walking the streets, either joined by a friend or simply me and the girlies.

I missed the decorations, the pumpkins, the jack-o-lanterns and the pleasant shared "Hellos!" with the others out wandering.

Over the years, with flashlight in hand, I have had the joy and pleasure of watching Baby Bop or a dalmation puppy or three M&Ms (plain & peanut) or "Duchess" from The Aristocats & twin "Marie"s or ghosts or princesses or witches or vampires knock on doors and cry out the words ... "Trick or Treat!" Whether neighbors we knew or neighbors we didn't, there has always been a festive joy and an evening of fun for those giving and receiving. Listening for and sometimes admonishing to remember to say "Thank you!" and then wandering on to the next house with a porch light lit. Some years we may have carried umbrellas or worn extra clothing to ward off the chill but spirits were always high and at the end of the journey, the last house was always our own.

Then would come the traditional dumping of the candy to check it out, to keep girlies safe and, for me, a tinge of sorrow would shadow the evening briefly. Each year I would remember my own joyous adventures with/without my little brother and the trust that my parents could feel in the goodies we would gather. However, in the world we have come to live in - it is better to be safe than to be sorry. The girlies have always known that the candy must wait until they got home, that it could not be eaten directly from the bucket, bag, or sack that they carried. A sad reality that they never realized was different.

Then laughter would return as dinner was eaten, stories were told, laughter was shouted at the oddness of make up without costume or simply smudged make up or hair gone every which way and, of course, picking out the best candy to eat first. Of course, for me, that was always the chocolate.

Yes, I missed Trick or Treating this year. It's not that I mind being on the "stay at home and pass out candy" side of it, it's just that I miss the pleasure of watching little girls enjoying the innocent excitement of a fun-filled evening.

I love the girls they have grown to become, I miss the girlies that used to be.

Chocolate Thoughts

For Forrest Gump, life was like a box of chocolates.

While I enjoy the occasional chocolate that comes in one of those special boxes, I find that my life is more like a bag of M&Ms.


There are plain, milk chocolate M&Ms for those days that are regular, simply ordinary, the ones where I simply need a little something sweet to help get me through them.

There are peanut M&Ms for those days that are just a bit nuttier than usual, the ones where things are just a bit more stressful and a bit of added protein can go a long way.

There are almond M&Ms for those days that require a bit of juggling to get things done, the ones where I balance a bit of "good fat" fiber with the sugar of the chocolate I'm sure that I require.

There are peanutbutter M&Ms for those days when outside forces converge on life with all the appearances of being regular yet hiding a surprise, the ones where I need the comfort of my favorite chocolate and the comfortable surprise of something creamy and smooth.

There are dark chocolate M&Ms for those days filled with secrets and politics, the ones where I need a rich dark secret of my own to enjoy.

There are mini M&Ms for those days that are sublime, filled with laughter and joy, the ones where I simply enjoy feeling like a young girl again.

There are big M&Ms for those days when everything seems to be overwhelming, the ones where I need something more to shore up my personal defenses and keep from being run over by the thing called life.

There are baking bit M&Ms for those days that I need to occupy my mind and keep my hands busy, those days when time spent in the kitchen teaching a young child to cook are a blessing.

and

There are ice cream M&Ms for those days that are gleeful and full of sinful pleasures, those days when something cold and sweet reminds us that happiness can be found in something simple.

Yes, Forrest, life can be like a box of chocolates. But when you're on a budget like mine ... M&Ms will do just fine.

Now ... who wants to hear about how to get through the week with one bag of M&Ms by deciding on one color each day? Oh ... and don't get me started on the "special holiday" bags - shades of pinks & reds for Valentine's Day, pastels for Easter, red/white/blue for patriotic, orange/black/brown for Halloween or the green/red/white for Christmas. Or ... if you prefer ... I can show you where to go to get your own color selection.

Maybe I should stop now.

Anyone want to hear my theories on Hershey Kisses?

Oh, My ... Pie!

(disclaimer: This blog was intended to be posted last night - Supernatural Thursday night. Unfortunately, computer/internet problems occurred that we are not allowed to discuss - please trust me on this - and so it is now being posted on Friday. Pretend it's Supernatural Thursday night and you will understand why. Or don't ... it's up to you. I'm just letting you know where my head was at when I wrote this.)

This morning I woke to rain and thought of All Hell Breaks Loose.

Tonight at dinner I had dessert and thought of All Hell Breaks Loose.

It's been a very Supernatural day for this obsessive.

I've already explained the rain. I won't go there again.

I have spent a very enjoyable day visiting my parents. We have laughed and chatted and had a general good time. My mother and I have been going down memory lane as we go through old family photos. I have more to share on this another time.

Here's the thing, though ... even when I am in the midst of laughing and talking, my mind kept flashing back to the show. Something would trigger a memory or a thought of the episode - just as the rain did when I woke.

Want an example? See this picture?

My mom is looking at this picture and we are talking about my Great-grandmother and she's reminiscing about that vacation mumblemumble years ago. What am I, the Supernatural Obsessive doing? Well, my head is nodding, my mouth is making all the appropriate noises and conversation and my mind? My mind is exploding with the shrieks of "Oh My Gosh! It's an Impala! I'm standing in front of an Impala. It's a four door. Who's was it? Was it black? It's four door! Is it a '67? Did I get to ride in it?" Yep. Calm and cool on the outside ... freaking out like a fangirl supreme on the inside.

Now you understand my mindset for the day.

Let's move to dinner.

My folks and I went out to dinner with some friends. We went to this restaurant that is one of my very favorites here in Branson. While we were waiting for our table to be prepared, I wandered a bit and happened upon the counter where they keep the desserts. I took one look at this chocolate pie and my brain exploded with Dean's voice.

"Hey, see if they've got any pie. Bring me some pie! Love me some pie."

Right then, not having a clue as to what I would eat for dinner, I knew. I was going to be having pie. As I went back to our group, I announced I was having pie. All through dinner, I laughed, I chatted, I made small talk and enjoyed a pleasant evening. And my brain? My brain kept screaming in Dean's voice ... "Bring me some pie!"

The meal was delicious and huge. I deliberately didn't finish. That is what "doggy bags" are for - the obsessive who wants her pie. When the waiter came and began to ask if we wanted dessert, the poor guy didn't even get the words completely out ...

"Yes! I'd like a piece of the chocolate cream pie."

Now, I have no idea if Dean would care for the chocolate cream pie or not. He may be an apple pie kind of guy, or pecan, or peach. However, this pie? This was a chocolate lovers dream and delight. When it was brought to the table, everyone laughed as my eyes grew large as saucers. This wasn't just pie. This wasn't just chocolate pie. This was Chocolate Pie Heaven.

Maybe if Dean could have had a slice of this pie, all hell wouldn't have broken loose.

BTW ... The car? I was four at the time, the car may or may not have been owned by my uncle, may or may not have been a '67 and was most likely a very dark green and I did not go for a ride in it. Drats!