This year, a sun with ironic freckles (can suns get sun-damage?) let me know I'm okay.

For those of you have been along for the ride for awhile, you might remember that I had a couple of surgeries for cervical cancer starting in 2009. The first wasn't effective and I had a hysterectomy right before Christmas in 2010. Each year since, I've held my breath waiting to see if there would be another recurrence. A couple of years ago, my old GYN (the one who did my surgeries) retired and I saw her replacement. I wasn't wild about her and that was doubly true when she did what turned out to be an unnecessary (and insanely painful) biopsy. Thankfully, it was negative, but it made me delay going back. Last month I went to see someone new and just loved her. She is frank and funny and I felt instantly comfortable. Her office sends out these postcards, that are blank on the back except for my name and address, to give the all-clear. The silly smiling sun instantly lifted my spirits - seven years with no sign of malignancy. I'll take it.

Foodie Post

Well, one result of cutting way back on restaurants is that I spend more time in the kitchen. Since I am committed to avoiding processed foods, it can be a little labor intensive. Good thing I like cooking!

On one afternoon, I spent a good bit of time chopping vegetables, roasting tomatoes, onions, and garlic, and making up a big batch of spaghetti sauce. I divided them into one-meal sized bags and stashed them in the freezer. Any time I make a sauce or soup, I try to make enough to freeze at least a couple of meals worth.

When I met a friend for dinner last month, I had a delicious chickpea salad. The menu listed mixed greens, lemon herb marinated chickpeas, cotija cheese, pickled red onion, radish, grilled zucchini, citrus vinaigrette. I thought, "I could make that." The first thing I had to do was find a quick pickled onion recipe, which turned out to be much easier than I thought. I made those the day ahead and also marinated the chickpeas in lemon and herbs. The next day I roasted the chickpeas, potatoes, and beets (which I subbed in for radishes) and assembled the salad. Easy and every bit as good as the one the restaurant offered.

A week or so ago, my son and his girlfriend were over for dinner. I had a Persian jeweled rice recipe I'd wanted to try and found a recipe for golden turmeric tilapia. I checked at the grocery store and couldn't find the mango chutney it called for and again thought, "I bet I could make that." Turns out it is easy. And so good - I could just eat it by the spoonful. We liked the turmeric fish recipe so much that I made another batch of chutney and my husband made the fish with sweet potatoes and broccoli for another dinner.

I'm back to making whole wheat sourdough bread more regularly, too. The last loaf I made with turmeric. It gave it a faint gold color and just a hint of the flavor.

I put poppy seeds on top but next time I think I'll mix them into the dough on the second kneading.

And then came Valentine's Day. We had already agreed not to buy unnecessary items, but groceries are exempt from the ban. I had the day off and put some of my time into prepping ingredients for dinner. I know I've said it before but it's just truth - I make a mean seafood risotto. There is something so peaceful about stirring the wine and broth a little at a time into the arborio rice and watching it absorb. I made it this time with crab meant and two kinds of shrimp, and add in caramelized onions, peppers and garlic, sautéed zucchini, and chopped greens.

It's heaven on a plate. We had some of the bread and a salad with field greens, cucumber, strawberries, feta and almonds.  I also made dark chocolate-covered strawberries for dessert and we cracked open a bottle of chardonnay we'd brought back from a winery we visited in Tuscany on our honeymoon. I'm realizing I'm happily able to forgo gifts for good food.

I meant to post about the project I was working on during my blog hiatus.

Knowing that blogs have a curious habit of evaporating, I wanted some way other than my posts to remember our trips. Last fall I got a deal on photo books for $5 plus shipping. I ordered five and had until the first of the year to use the vouchers. I did two on our first trip together to Ireland, and one each for Italy/Switzerland, Cuba and Argentina.

I loved that the cover photo could be wrapped around the book and inserts included. On the Ireland books I added Gaelic road signs on the back and the Italy Honeymoon book, an insert of our wedding photo.

Each book is 40 pages and there is a fair amount of flexibility on text and photo size. I like how compact they are so they fit nicely with the small bookcase that houses the only books we hang onto. In some ways, it's an anti-minimalist move on my part because I know they will interest no one but myself and my husband. But if travel is an experience that brings joy, so is re-living the memories.

How about a book review?

I love the gentle art of Swedish death cleaning. The idea of it, that is. Not so much the book, though. Thankfully, I won this book in a giveaway and didn't waste my own money on it. As a public service, I will save you the the cost of the book with a quick summary. I'd say that I'm also saving you time, but this book took literally 40 minutes to read - and that included my husband interrupting me to come to the study and proofread something for him!

The premise is that we are all going to die. The older you get, obviously, the sooner that will happen. And when you die, your stuff becomes your heirs' burden. Death cleaning, or döstädning, is about off-loading things that no one will want after you are gone to reduce that burden. So get rid of your crap.

That's it. That's what is of value in this book. The rest of it is random reminiscing about life in Sweden and an odd coyness about the author's age. Seriously, she says several times that she is "between 80 and 100." I found that irritating enough to google it - she's 83. Mystery revealed. I can't imagine saying I'm between 50 and 70. Then again, maybe I should start telling people I'm between 30 and 56.

Other tidbits from the book: She has a "stylish" leopard-print apron she wishes she could wear all the time. She repurposed a metal wok into a hat. She's remarkably snarky about her kids. Like this: "Still, I know families who live in a complete mess (I won't mention the names of my children here, but you know who you are.)" Well. Isn't that lovely. She also kept some of her kids' baby clothes to spur their own procreation. "And when grandchildren failed to arrive, I would take the box down and remind my lazy children of what I wanted. It worked. Now I have 8 grandchildren." Jesus.

Technology notes: She wishes she'd used tape to hold together papers instead of staples because you can't put staples through a shredder. Um, yeah you can. Also, a hook to hang your keys on doesn't actually "cost nothing" unless you steal it. And while she notes that encyclopedias are no longer necessary because of the wonders of the internet, she does hang on to reference books like a dictionary, a thesaurus, and an atlas. Because apparently she doesn't know those answers can also be found online.

In a section on accumulation she says, "We feel like last year's colonial style of dark wood and bamboo has to be exchanged for this year's clean white Nordic minimalism"... "This is wasteful but not a huge problem if we remember to get rid of last year's things before we buy the new ones." Well, I beg to differ, Ms. Magnusson, it is indeed a huge problem. That kind of mindless consumption is killing the planet.

Among the things she's held onto are ladles made from coconut shells (ah, NOW I know what my kitchen is missing!) and a "small tea strainer of plaited bamboo, far too brittle and beautiful for daily use." Okay, forget the whole idea of using what you have. She feels these things will be "easy to place with anyone," but she also tells a story of a beautiful bracelet her father gave her that she sold rather than risk a possible fight over it when she died. She really doesn't seem to like her kids much.

An additional reason to death clean is to rid your house of items others might find upsetting. Like Grandma's collection of dildos. "Save your favorite dildo - but throw away the other fifteen!"  (At this point in the book, I found myself wondering if I had any brain bleach on hand.)

A side note - when I was googling her age, I watched a bit of an interview with the author. In it, she was dusting a packed bookshelf with loads of knick knacks in front of the books. So how much death cleaning is she really doing? Walk the walk, man, especially if you are selling a book about it.

And the book wraps up with "I will feel so content and happy when I have done most of this work.... And if I don't die, I will probably go shopping. Again!" What the actual fuck?  I do believe that for Margareta Magnusson, senility started to creep in somewhere between 80 and 100.

One month into no-shopping challenge 2018.

To keep us on track, I've made a little calendar to keep on the side of the fridge. At the end of every day we abide strictly by our no-shopping challenge, we fill that day in with green. See the bright pink on the days we caved in and shopped? That's right, you don't!

EXPENDITURES
 January       Year to Date      Category                              
      $0                       $0                   Clothing    
      $0                       $0                   Shoes                               
      $0                       $0                   Accessories                                         
      $0                       $0                   Cosmetics           
      $0                       $0                   Kitchen items                   
      $0                       $0                   Gadgets/electronics   
      $0                       $0                   Furnishings 
      $0                       $0                   Books   
      $0                       $0                   Shrubs/trees 
      $0                       $0                   Non-necessary household goods   

I'll be honest, I still have a little bit of a Pavlovian response when I see a UPS or mail truck. And it doesn't help that my neighbors across the street must have a full-on shopping addiction because packages arrive for them just about every day. But now that we've gone a month, I really don't think about it in quite the same way. An example - now that I know I will have absolutely no new clothing items for at least a year, I'm actually wearing more of what's in my closet. And I find myself wondering why I hadn't been appreciating all the nice clothes I already have. Or when I think about a book I'd like to read, I'm grateful for a wonderful library system.

Although we didn't include going out to eat on our no list, we agreed to cut way back and get better about meal planning and making sure we had things prepared to take to work for lunch. I met an old friend one night for dinner, but for the first time was really mindful of what I ordered. And even with a drink and a good tip, my tab was under $20. Tonight, my husband I and went out to eat for the first time this year, to celebrate our successful first no-shopping month. But we did it by going out on half-price sushi night and getting a pot of green tea with it. Under $30 for the two of us. In addition to my calendar, I have a count-down app on my phone. I imagine we'll re-up for some version when the new year gets here. Because this whole re-evaluating our spending thing? We've got this.

A walk in the woods.

Last Sunday was a welcome respite from the cold, and we took advantage of the good weather to drive over to Waterville, North Carolina for a hike in the Smoky Mountains.

I wanted to sneak some of this moss-covered log fencing from the parking lot into our car to take home but, weirdly, it wouldn't fit in the trunk.

It was sunny and warming, but the icicles were hanging on stubbornly.

Our hike took us along Mouse Creek, with frozen puddles in the rock crevices.

The trail followed the creek for two miles.

It was still a little damp from earlier rains, but not too muddy.

We passed Midnight Hole, although we didn't find out until later its name or that it is a popular swimming area in better weather.

I'd like to come back in the summer when it's greener, but I did love the contrast of the fallen brown leaves and all the mosses.

Mouse Creek Falls, our destination. Except we'd read that some people confused another falls with it and stopped before they got to the real waterfall. So we kept going.

We hiked almost another two miles before we asked a couple of backpackers about Mouse Creek Falls. They told us we'd been misinformed. Apparently, it was the tiny bit of water spilling over the rocks at Midnight Hole that mislead people. I honestly don't know why anyone would consider that an actual waterfall.

Turns out, we were long past the end of our trail and now on the Big Creek trail. Which was fine. There is something about watery places - rivers, lakes, oceans - that just restores me.

We decided to head back and find a place for lunch on the return hike.

That big flat rock at the edge of the Big Creek was our picnic spot.

Our lunch-time view. I've traveled to a lot of amazing places in this world but it's nice to be reminded that I also live in an area of great beauty. The Smoky Mountains manage to be gorgeous year-round.

We rejoined the Mouse Creek trail back at the waterfall and walked on to the parking lot. We're going to try to get out hiking on our rare free days whenever the weather permits.

Semi-minimalism.

Over the last many years, I have purged belongings multiple times, as I mentioned when I posted about my no-shopping 2018 challenge (17 days in - yay!). But the other side of the non-acquiring coin remains decluttering. I just finished "Year of No Clutter" (borrowed from the library, NOT purchased, thank you very much) by a woman who has OCD and comes from a family of hoarders. She's a borderline hoarder herself, but worked really hard to get that tendency in check. This book was laugh-out-load funny at times. She still ended up holding on to way more than made sense to me, but it was a reminder that not everyone has the same path and I just need to keep walking mine.

As I have been taking a clear-eyed look at my belongings, I made the decision that there was absolutely no sense in letting my wedding dress just hang in the closet for eternity. I loved that dress and I felt beautiful in it, but it's not like I'll ever wear it again. And my son's girlfriend and older daughter are both significantly taller than me, and the younger daughter will be within months. Even if they wanted my dress, which I doubt, it wouldn't fit. But I also couldn't bear the idea of it hanging on the rack at Goodwill, just waiting to be turned into a zombie bride Halloween costume. I boxed it up and shipped it off to Brides for a Cause, which sells wedding dresses and gives the money to charities that help women. It felt like a win all the way around.

I also had several things I wanted to donate but not locally. Gifts from patients or other people in the area, say. I found another place called Give Back Box that lets you print out postage-paid shipping labels and they distribute the items to charitable organizations. I had two cardboard boxes that hadn't yet gone to recycling so I loaded up the things I wanted to leave town. And then threw in other things because there was still some room. The uncomfortable silver shoes I bought to go with the wedding, dress, for instance. The packed boxes are in my car waiting to go to the post office tomorrow.

Finally, I have three keepsake boxes I put together when I lived at my last house. One for photos, one for papers (cards and letters, my sons' art, school papers, etc), and one for general mementos. I just went through them again, as I do every year or so, to cull. My rule is that I don't keep more photos or souvenirs than I can store in these boxes. Each time I go through them, I find more things I no longer feel a need to keep. Like why, as an example, was I hanging on to my certificate of membership in the Huguenot society? In case I emigrate to Canada and hope that it will improve my chances of being granted citizenship? Or even my honor society certificate? Even when I applied to grad school, I didn't need to prove I was in the honor society. Or, for pete's sake, the boarding school prospectus and the term reports which noted my ineptness at skiing and my unwillingness to devote time to piano practice or speak up in math class? Why would I hold on to anything that says I'm not enough? But still, letters from friends and long-gone relatives, romantic notes from my husband, and hand-drawn cards by my kids stay for now. I guess a super minimalist would ditch it all, but I feel like this is a manageable amount of sentimental-only belongings. I plan to reassess in a couple years because I know that the more I pare down, the lighter I feel.