These little earthquakes

I’m sorry I’ve been so MIA lately. Sometimes I open the page here to write, and nothing comes out. This post was from yesterday. It’s just been sitting here in my drafts, mostly because I thought it sounded lame (and somewhat sad).

Spring has arrived, however. And that’s always good.

 

We knew our friend, Warren, was very sick. He’d been battling cancer for years and was in remission for many of them. But when he came to see us on March 11, we both knew that it would be the last time for all of us to be together. We were surprised that he passed away just three weeks later. The days have been difficult lately – going through the massive collection of photographs and negatives that I have and seeing how young and beautiful and full of hope we all were – it’s very bittersweet.

And putting aside the ones I’ve found of my husband, just in case. Then I made myself stop doing that because it was too heartbreaking.

And somewhere between doing what’s right and doing what’s right for you, we decided to stay home and not go to the funeral service for our friend. Getting to Biloxi, MS would have been a great hardship for us.

 

So imagine my surprise when I asked my husband today if he would like to drive to Chesapeake City, and get lunch to go, and have a picnic by the water, and actually hearing him say, “yes”.

Mind you, this is something we rarely do. So this was a treat to me.

 

I called to order crab cake sandwiches from the Bayard House Restaurant in Chesapeake City and we sat by the water in the warmth of the car while we ate our most delicious lunch.

The sun was shining, but it sure was cold.

And, of course, George came along for the ride.

 

Historic Chesapeake City used to be sort of our home town, back when we lived at the horse farm. It lies along the 14-mile C&D (Chesapeake & Delaware) Canal, the waterway  that connects the Chesapeake Bay at its northernmost point to the Delaware River.

 

I used to cross this bridge every single day while driving to work at the school.

It’s very high.

 

My husband wanted to take a drive after our luncch, so we stopped for coffee at Starbucks in Middletown, DE and traveled through Odessa, then down Rte. 9 on this sunny day, and got out to take a little walk.

I hadn’t brought the proper cold-weather gear, so it was a short walk.

 

Beautiful sky.

 

And then we came home and sat outside on the patio and watched the birds and remembered our friend. When he was here a few weeks ago, the birds were out and about and we identified them for him as we sat outside and talked. Warren was my husband’s best friend, and my best guy friend. It was Warren who introduced me to my husband when we were all 19 years old.

They called each other George. I don’t know why . . . it started 25 or so years ago. My husband named our dog after the pet name they had for each other, telling me at the time that it had to be a name he would remember.

 

Sometimes it’s really difficult talking to my husband. But I’m not here to complain about it. His words are sometimes wrong and it’s often a guessing game as to what he’s actually trying to say. (You know that football player I was friends with and he got the cancer and he lived in Pennsylvania?) It wasn’t until several hours later that I realized he was talking about Joe Conwell who played for the Philadelphia Eagles, and we first heard that Warren had cancer. We lived on a horse farm in Pennsylvania.

I tell myself that it’s not his fault (because it’s not). But that doesn’t make it any easier. Sometimes I pretend to understand, but he’s not stupid. He can tell when I’m faking it.

* snort *

I just made myself smile.

It’s just after 5 PM and I have {this chicken} in the oven (found it on Pinterest) and a small dish of my go-to {macaroni & cheese}. This has become my favorite mac & cheese recipe, and for good old-fashioned comfort food, it can’t be beat. It’s going to smell divine soon in this house. All I need to do now is steam the carrots.

Thanks for stopping by, my friends.