wendyslists.blogspot.com

I've exhumed the blog I killed before I'd even really started it.

www.wendyslists.blogspot.com

Moving On

I'm not going to continue this blog. I'll probably start another at some point; most likely one with a topic.

Yay for That

I'm at the lowest weight I've been in eight years. This is not to be confused with thin- just thinner.  I no longer have to (hushed whisper) go upstairs for clothes at Macy's.


I've lost 35 pounds since my heaviest years, which were around 2009- 2012. I don't have ridiculous notions that a woman of my age and build should be 120 pounds. I'll be happy when I lose another 20 pounds, maybe 25. That will put me somewhere between a size 10 and 12 and I'm fine with that.

Squash Sandwich

People have strange ideas as to what constitutes a suitable main course for a vegetarian. This is not an issue close to my heart. If I want a burger...I'll probably choose a Gardenburger. But anyway. I once heard of someone serving a vegetarian friend minted peas and carrots as an entrée. That was it. Minted peas and carrots. If someone served me mint-flavored peas and carrots, even as a side dish, I would like that person a little bit less. I might even hate them.

 I went to a party in my early 20s where the host though a platter of macaroni salad, potato salad and coleslaw was suitable fare for any possible vegetarians. Actually, throw in some bread and that sounds pretty good right now.

I recently chose a vegetarian boxed lunch over turkey. For some reason turkey tastes like dead bird to me lately.My vegetarian lunch featured a slice of grilled zucchini and a slice of grilled yellow squash on a croissant with some sort of mayonaissey condiment. It was weirdly good, but still...

Tribute to My Father

Read a little of this or read a lot. Just know that Albert J Gilson MD was awesome.

About seventeen years ago, my father and I were driving in a snowstorm from Colorado Springs to Denver. Traffic was inching along, so we had a lot of time to talk. The most memorable thing he said to me that night was “Don’t feel sorry for me when I die, because I’ve done everything I ever wanted to do.” I want him to be remembered that way: A great man who lived his life fully and completely.

 The very last thing my father ever said to me was “I don’t want you to worry…” That was typical of him- to be more concerned about his family than himself. I babbled that of course I was worried because I love him and blah blah blah blah. He handed the phone back to my mother, grumbling. That was kind of typical too.

 

Some things my father loved include history, weather, politics, sailing and navigation, horseback riding, flying, skiing, pastrami sandwiches and cream soda, Julia Child, Prince Harry, and the campfire scene in Blazing Saddles. When my father was in a good mood on car trips, he would sing “The flowers that bloom in the Spring, tra la” in the voice that got him excused from 7^th grade glee club. My father loved world travel, life-long learning, and that song from the 70’s Coke commercial I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing.

 

It was important to my father to show my sister and me the world. When I was 12, he took us with him to a medical convention in Israel. He extended the trip to Rome and Athens so we could learn about the great ancient civilizations. We once spent a day at the New York Museum of Science, and he happy discussed with me my many questions and observations.

 

We spent many wonderful weekends and vacations at Ocean Reef resort in Key Largo, Florida. One starry night, he drove us in a golf cart to the resort’s airstrip. He taught my sister and me all the constellations. He told me about light years, and that some of the stars I was looking at no longer existed. That remains, to this day, my most wondrous learning experience.

 

Even at 84 (84 and three quarters! As he said a few weeks ago), my dad had encyclopedic knowledge. I could ask him anything about history or science and he could answer in amazing detail.

 

My father was brilliant, deeply compassionate, and beyond that, a man of action. I recall several instances of him helping strangers in need. When it came to his own family, my father’s instincts were lightning fast. In 1971, my sister was in a guitar recital, playing Where Have all the flowers gone with two other earnest and untalented young girls.  Something caught fire on the stage. While the audience gasped and waited for someone else to take care of the problem, my father was up and running; putting out the fire within seconds.

 My father used humor to deflect how protective he was. To a friend’s young son: ”Don’t fall. You might hurt my floor.” When my sister and I went swimming off our boat at Elliott Key, he tied ropes around our waists so he could reel us in if we drifted out too far. He later joked that he was using us as bait.

 My father adored animals. When our German Shepard, Betsy, got too old to climb the stairs to where she slept at night, my father carried her. He had great respect for all animals, especially dogs, wolves, eagles and dolphins.

 

For many years I’ve been told, frequently by my father himself, that I’m very much like him. It is comforting to look at my eyes, my face, and the shape of my hands, and see him. It is an honor to be like him in many ways, and I want to live the rest of my life more completely, more fully, in tribute to him. I am so very proud and grateful that he was, and will always be, my father.

 

 

 

It was a hoot

I was standing on the patio last night, looking at the basketball-sized full moon over the water when an owl flew over my head. It was creepy in a good way.

Wildlife Encounter

I love living by water, trees, and woods but someone needs to remove the damn wildlife and take it to a zoo. I just heard an encounter I could describe with a series of protracted vowels ("aaaaaawk!") but I'll let it suffice to say it sounded like a giant frog vs. a duck. Or a coyote strangling something, probably a poodle named Fifi- if anyone names poodles that anymore.