With winter comes hot cocoa with marshmallows and every since my youth my favorite way of making it is with whole chocolate milk with a touch of vanilla. Even though I occasionally make it from scratch with Hershey's cocoa or buy the kind that comes in individual envelopes like Swiss Miss, Land O Lakes or Frederik's, it's still my favorite way to enjoy hot chocolate. I learned to make it that way from a high school home economics teacher, the mother of my best friend growing up. I went to a baby shower recently where they made it that way in a coffee urn and they had a bar with choices for topping like whipped cream or marshmallows, sprinkles, candy canes or peppermint bark, caramel sauce, cinnamon sticks and liqueurs of all likes. If they served those things with the cocoa at the ski lodges of my twenties, I don’t remember it but I guess they do it now, at least here in Michigan.
I've been trying my darn-est to cut calories and increase my physical activities these past few weeks so I am now making my nightly hot chocolate in a six ounce cup with one marshmallow instead of in a ten ounce cup with two or three marshmallows. I've even tried drinking brewed tea in the evenings but I don’t like the stains on my teeth from drinking too much tea so it's not a go-to favorite of mine. My mom was avid tea drinker (and my oldest niece, too) and I keep a ceramic pot in my kitchen in her honor. I wish she'd lived long enough to experience Starbuck's summer teas. It always makes me feel luxurious when I can order one of their Iced Peach Green Tea Lemonades.
Growing up my parents weren’t rich be any stretch of the imagination but they were hard working and provided my brother and me with a stability neither one of them had in their childhoods. We had three meals a day, clothes aplenty, a nice middle-class neighborhood to live in, a summer cottage where we grew treasured memories. And we had love. Not the said-out-loud kind of love but my brother and I knew we had it even if as kids we didn't recognize what a blessing that was. The closest I ever came to poverty and poor people growing up was hearing the stories my folks told of their childhoods and seeing my mom slip tens and twenties to some of our less fortunate relatives.
Then I entered the work force I made enough money to support myself and to squirrel away a little for a rainy day but I didn’t have health insurance. Things were going good until I broke my foot and had to be on crutches for twelve weeks, I couldn’t do my job and I had a hard time paying my bills. The classic statement---before Obamacare came along---that we are all only a heartbeat away from a major financial crisis in our lives due to a medical emergency became real to me. My bank account and my sense of security recovered quickly after that summer but it was a lesson learned and that lesson gave me greater empathy later on in life after my husband’s stroke.
Don had good insurance so that part of the stress a major medical crisis brings to the Table of Life was not one of our problems. Downsizing was, though, and we had more than most people to dispose of…two houses, various trucks, three front end loaders, a street sweeper and a huge poll building full of commercial and personal stuff. It was the hardest period in my life. Downsizing was/is hard emotional work.
Yesterday my youngest niece asked me if I'd ever heard of the Swedish Death Cleaning and panic set in. We were communicating by text so I couldn’t decide at first if: A) she thought I should get rid of everything except the bare essentials of living out my days, B) she thought her husband should do one because they've been stressed all year over a re-occurring medical issue, or C) it was just an off-handed question because she'd just heard about the Swedish Death Cleanings at a Christmas party. She's had a house cleaning service most of her adult life so I'm pretty sure---now---she asked out of professional curiosity.
Still, I told her after Don's stroke I tried to get him to sell some stuff he wasn't ready to let go of, like his classic Corvette and hunting gear, and even though I knew he'd never recovery enough to get his old life back, I had to back off on selling certain Memory Makers because it was like I was taking his hope for a full recovery away. Sitting around in a house stripped of everything but the bare necessities (the goal of Swedish Death Cleanings) might sound altruistic when you're middle-aged and looking at seniors near the end of their lives but it sounds ghoulish when you're the senior. Remember when we had blogger friends who did the Swedish Death Cleaning? I felt ghoulish back then and it still does. If the idea comes from within, that's one thing but someone nagging another into the process is quite a different can of worms.
Still... I do have a small project in my den that will involve some downsizing/purging and project Make-my-Den-Function-Better is at the top of my New Year's Resolutions List.
Until Next Wednesday. ©