Lessons from Grandma: or Aging Well

Lately, I've been thinking about aging. Just over a month ago, I started my first middle-aged medication (for high blood pressure). It felt like my body betrayed me, especially when I asked if there were any changes I could make. "Well," said my family doctor (who delivered me and still sees my parents), "cutting back on salt or alcohol may help, but you already do everything else. I guess there is something to be said for genetics". My dad started b.p. meds in his 30s and my grandfather had his first stroke in his 40s. Why couldn't I have inherited my mom's healthy blood pressure instead?

At the same time, my father has been going through some mobility issues, needing cast, crutches or a wheely cart to get around. Unfortunately, to enter my parent's house, you have the choice of either a steep hill or precarious stairs. He's been dealing with it and there will soon be a bit of a reprieve, as a longtime family friend is installing a safer set of stairs and a railing (along with some other helpful modifications). In the long-term though, the house would be nearly impossible to make accessible (without lifting on stilts). Hopefully it won't be a problem for decades...

My model of graceful aging is my grandmother. Grandma is in her mid-80s, but you'd never know it. She works from home, tends a garden and is the linchpin of the bell choir at my aunt and uncle's church. She rarely sits still. Up until about five years ago, she cooked the entire Christmas and Thanksgiving spread every year. When the family finally convinced her to accept help, she still cooked everything she always did - we just had more food. On the way home from my aunt's annual New Year's Day dinner, I remarked to one of the other guests, a nurse in her early 60s, "I hope I have the kind of energy my grandma has when I'm her age".

"Heck," she responded, "I wish I had that kind of energy now.

I just finished reading What Makes Olga Run by Bruce Grierson, about a 93 year old track star. "Trent, do you think Grandma would ever do something like that?"

"Probably not". But she could if she wanted to.

Lessons from Grandma:

1. Keep moving with both organized and lifestyle exercises. Not only does Grandma rarely sit still for longer than a few minutes at a time, she's kept up an exercise routine for decades. She does Jack LaLanne exercises (and sometimes does sit-ups even as the cat jumps on her stomach). Gardening is a way of life for her.
2. Eat your veggies - and fruits! While Grandma does have flowers and shrubs, the largest portion of the yard is taken up by berries, beans, corn, tomatoes, zucchini, peas, carrots and more - not to mention the pear and apple trees along the border of the yard that fill a second refrigerator with their bounty in the autumn months.
3. Cook your own food. Grandma enjoys the occasional meal out at Ivar's, but for the most part, she is the chef, enjoying steak and roasted turkey breast. No microwave meals or shortcuts for her.
4. Limit your salt. Grandma just doesn't cook with salt. That probably started to help Grandpa's blood pressure, but it has likely helped her as well.
5. Limit alcohol. Grandma doesn't drink. Period.
6. Work at something related to what you love. While I'm sure that Grandma does not love every moment of her work-life (and the family is convinced that her boss takes advantage of her), her work is linked to her knowledge of plants and gardens. I'm certain she's not just in it for the money.
7. Take up a hobby. Grandma didn't start playing the bells until she was in her 70s. Now she won't miss it for anything.
8. Stay connected. That bell choir also gets her out of the house, meeting new people and spending additional time with my aunt and uncle.
9. Exercise your brain. We all know not to call Grandma between 7:30 and 8 when Jeopardy is on. I haven't watched it with her recently, but I suspect she could give me and Trent a run for our money.
10. Enjoy nature. In addition to gardening, Grandma has extensive indoor plants and enjoys watching the birds at her feeder.
11. Know thyself. Grandma does not like to travel - so she doesn't, other than the occasional trip to Colorado to visit her siblings. When her boss says she should join him in Florida for a visit, she declines, mentioning to us, "I don't want to go someplace with alligators". While I can't imagine a full life that does not include travel, that doesn't mean she needs to go anywhere.

What lessons have you learned from your elders?

Recipe for a Relaxed Brunch

I've always longed to have a welcoming house - the type of place where friends and family feel comfortable to rummage around in my refrigerator when a sudden craving arrives, where "mi casa is su casa" and entertaining feels effortless.

Alas, that is not the case. I've become the adult keeping a watchful eye on the crystal and china anytime a toddler visits. And I once had a terrible fight with my brother when he tried to bring an extra couple over for dinner (in my defense, I talked to him after already buying ingredients and before listening to his phone message where he said he was bringing extra appetizers and desserts). I anxiously eye the pork tenderloin, hoping to cook it enough to avoid giving trichinosis to my guests without giving them meat dry as sawdust. In short, fun Mary-me disappears when I'm entertaining and fussy Martha-me appears in a sort of Jekyll and Hyde switch.

But today was different. I invited my parents over for Easter lunch, hoping to pick a meal where I could just relax. At first the worry kicked in - can I make something relatively healthy that both of my parents with polar opposite tastes can enjoy that will not negatively impact my father's blood sugar - but then I lighted on the perfect solution: lentil soup. How can you go wrong with a Caesar salad, a loaf of sourdough bread and a pot of the dish that Esau sold his birthright for? (Wow, two biblical references in one blog post - but it is Easter). So I bought ingredients and started some vegetable broth from my freezer bag of veggie scraps before heading out to 8:30 a.m. choir rehearsal. Returning home at 11:30, I still had time to chop veggies and sausage (Hempler's Andouille), toss a salad and share a Mighty O apple fritter and Zoka mocha with Trent (quite a treat, as we normally frequent doughnut happy hour, when doughnuts are half price and the fritters are long since sold out).

My parents were 15 minutes late - stuck in traffic - but who cares when you've got soup, which only tastes better the longer the flavors meld. We sat, told stories and laughed for 45 minutes before sitting down to dine. Afterwards, we talked until my dad looked as though he was about to fall asleep on the couch. And while I still served them beverages, I like to think that they would have felt comfortable enough to get their own.

No-stress Lentil Soup

Dutch oven full of vegetable broth

1 lb. lentils

2 carrots, chopped

3 celery spears, chopped

one onion, diced

3 Yukon gold potatoes, diced

3 sausages, chopped

pinch of thyme

pinch of marjoram

salt to taste

Fill Dutch oven with vegetable scraps.  Carrot peelings, onion tops and skins or leek tops and celery ends are good. Add one bay leaf and a half dozen peppercorns. Cover with water. Bring to a boil. Turn down heat and simmer for at least a half hour. Let cool enough so you don't get steam burns and strain vegetables.

Saute sausage in a no-stick pan. Add vegetables and continue to cook until onions are translucent. Add broth. Pick over lentils (okay, I actually don't spend very much time doing this, as I have never once found a stone in the bag) and add to soup. Add thyme and marjoram. Bring to boil, then reduce to a simmer for about an hour or until potatoes and lentils are soft. Salt to taste (which for me isn't much, because of the flavor from the sausage and my tendency towards high blood pressure). This soup will thicken into more of a stew. I suppose you could add more broth or water, but why would you want to?

Serve with crusty french bread, fresh ground pepper if you want to be fancy, an honest smile and a sigh of relief.

Serves four, with lots and lots of leftovers to take to work throughout the week. It will develop an even more complex flavor as time goes by.

What is your favorite low-stress recipe?

Return to Kingston

Pure bliss - that is how I still feel after arriving home from our sail yesterday.  Sun, wind, warm-enough clothes (including fast-drying pants, necessary on wavy days when you forget to put on your foulies before going out).

Trent and I left the house around noon. Destination: Edmonds for lunch. When we originally dreamed about our weekend, we contemplated doing an overnight, but it was more convenient to leave without packing cushions, sheets, sleeping bag, blanket, toiletries, a change of clothes and everything else but the kitchen sink.

As we made our way to Shilshole, the clouds fled, leaving space in the sky for the glorious sun! The wind was from the north 10-15 (hovering around 14 for most of the journey). Jib up, we avoided the Puget Sound Spring Regatta, leaving the two groupings of big boats behind. Surprisingly few other cruisers were about, given the rare combination of sun and wind.

Trent and I both wore our new Rock Lobster shirts, but still needed warm jackets for the upwind journey (the high was 61, but that is definitely not warm enough for summer clothes).

Oh, what exhilaration! To be heeled at a not-too-scary degree in my perfect sailing weather. The sound of Rock Lobster whooshing through the water. The wind vibrating the backstay. The random birds flap-flap-flapping across waves. Bliss, flow, pure happiness.

About two hours in, we realized that we were both hungry and that it would be just a little bit faster to go to Kingston, so we changed destinations. I was a little worried about disappointing my three loyal blog readers by repeating a destination, but c'est la vie.

We arrived near 4 and took advantage of the free two hours of mooring. Because we pulled in right after the ferry did, there was a short line at our restaurant of choice J'aime les Crepes, where we ordered a special (ham, mushrooms, dijon, spinach) and a chicken supreme (lemon artichoke pesto - mmm) and shared them outside in the sun. My taste buds leapt at the first tang of mustard. Someday maybe, I'll actually order a sweet crepe, but so far the temptations of a savory one outweigh allure of nutella or strawberries and whipped cream.

Seeing as we had brought our ever-present Boggle and Bananagrams, we needed a place to play with a little less wind, so we headed off to Majestic Mountain and were dismayed to find it locked, even though it was not yet 5 and the sign read "open". Knowing we still had more than an hour before our parking "expired", we meandered up to town, past the Kingston Firehouse Theater and the Grub Hut, past the coffee stand with only outdoor seating to a business we had noticed the last time we were in town. The Axe Handle Cafe has a surprisingly charming interior for a restaurant in a strip-mall: old window frames and pictures of historic Kingston decorate the walls. Trent ordered a mocha, which he declared "pretty good", while my chai was perfect - foamy and not too sweet. We shared a cinnamon streusel muffin, crumbly and again, not overly sweet and quite good.

After two rounds of Bananagrams (we each won one), we returned to the marina in the sunshine and flowers, the weather such a contrast to our January visit. Heading out, the wind by Kingston had dropped to only 10 (5 in some spots), but when we got farther out, it picked up to around 17. We flew home with a top speed of 9 knots, the asymmetric spinnaker fighting Trent all the way. Such a lovely contrast - sitting on the high side of the boat, wind streaming on the way out, followed by a flat, warm sail, surfing on the waves with the wind at our backs.

By the time we returned to the dock, we were exhausted and already plotting our next sail. I can't let another three months go by without getting on the water again. Maybe the wind will cooperate today...

Minimalizing: A Journey

I believe I mentioned it in a previous post - I follow minimalist blogs (Be More With Less, Miss Minimalist and Zen Habits) and have read enough books on minimalism that I could practically write a book or teach a workshop on the subject. Only hold onto things that you use regularly or that you find beautiful and give you joy. One in, one out (or more out, depending on what stage of the journey you're on). Etc., etc., etc.

I am an aspiring minimalist - not the type that only owns 100 items or the kind that sleeps on a mattress on the floor or makes you bring your own plates to a dinner party, but one that longs to live lagom - with the just right amount for happiness. I want to feel cozy and comfortable without feeling as though my possessions define me or control me. Occasionally I daydream about what it would be like to live on a boat or in a trailer - to be able to pack up and move on at a moment's notice.

It started before our last move with the memory of the boxes of textbooks from the prior move that I had not opened once in seven years. Textbooks are HEAVY and I didn't want to lug them again, so we parted ways. I realized I was never going to do calculus exercises for fun or re-read Spanish poetry from the 1500s. I went on to give away clothes, wine glasses, candle holders, stickers and the strange things that you have no recollection of acquiring in the first place. The "take a treasure, leave a treasure" stump near my house became my new best friend (though I never once took a treasure).

I could so easily become a hoarder. As a child, I longed to hold things that my parents and grandparents had held as children, knowing there was a special essence or quality about them that new items just could not possess. I feel environmental guilt over any wasted item and try to hold onto things past the point of any logic. And I feel giddy when I find a new use for an old item. When I started writing regularly in the morning, I gave a shout of triumph when I found a couple of college-ruled notebooks and loose-leaf paper that I hadn't used since grad school (12.5 years ago).

So knowing this tendency in myself, I try to avoid bringing new non-consumables in the house. My mother-in-law gives me certificates for trapeze or a spa for gifts. My hobbies don't require too many props. Running requires new shoes every so often. A steady stream of books runs in and out of the house thanks to the library. Pen and paper don't take up too much space. And I have enough outlay of knitting needles and leftover yarn to last years (but only fill a couple of grocery bags in my closet).

The hardest things to give away are things attached to my fantasy self who:

• bakes cheesecakes regularly (and totes them with a cake carrier)
• sews or repurposes clothing
• creates craft projects on a knitting loom (rather than just using my knitting needles)
• wears sexy heels
• needs a special pan to cook paella
• wears makeup more than once a decade
• hosts high tea
• plays guitar in a folk rock band
• reads chapter books to the children in my life

Are you holding onto anything for an old dream?