As an adult, I’ve always had just a little swallowing difficulty.  It isn’t enough to warrant a medical evaluation, just enough to scare the living daylights out of me about twice a week.

               For example, after drinking a milkshake or eating thick soup for many bites, I will suddenly be unable to swallow easily.  The thickish stuff gets kind of stuck in my throat.  I don’t choke, but there’s a paralyzing second or two when I think I’m going to do just that. I can’t get the food back up and I can’t get my throat to swallow.  Then, I realize I can still breathe, and the lump goes down the hatch.

               Sometimes, I have to jump out of my chair to get that to happen.  It used to alarm my husband a bit, but I think he’s used to it by now.  (I did tell him to watch for the international sign for choking just in case my worst nightmare comes true some day).

               Anyway, so it’s not just soup or milkshakes, sometimes it’s a bit of chicken, or a piece of green bean, or even a sip of water.  But, I just go on about my life, not thinking about it consciously because it’s not a daily event by any means.

               The only exception to that is…pills . It’s so difficult for me to consider swallowing a pill whole that I go out of my way not to take medication.  When I have to take it, I try to find the smallest and/or most slippery capsule I can.

               Every day, I take a vitamin D (very small, slippery pill) and a vitamin C capsule. These have been recommended by my doctor based on blood work, so obviously I can’t skip those.  The vitamin C is a biggish capsule, but very slippery. 

               I prepare myself for these mentally, and thus far, have not had a problem. 

               Because of my osteoarthritis, I also take a pill for my joints and a magnesium tablet.  These are both fairly small, too, so twice a day I manage to get them down.  Once in a while, the magnesium causes a little cough because it’s rough, but usually it’s okay.

               Sadly, I recently have had to reintroduce glucosamine into my regime.  This is a concern on two levels.  The first is that my arthritis is worsening and I need the additional support to be able to walk with relatively little (or no!) pain.  The second is that glucosamine comes in two forms:  huge and horse-pill size.

               Now, every day, we have three little cups from our china set that we put out on the breakfast table.  I believe the intended purpose of these adorable ceramic dishes is for food such as poached egg or custard.  But we use them for pills.  My husband has one for his, the dog has one, and I have one.

               This morning, I added the glucosamine pill to my cup.  It sat there, large and intimidating, on the top of all the others. In fact, it totally masked all the others, it’s so big. 

               We ate breakfast and removed the dishes to the counter.  I went back to the table to take my pills with my water and the cup was gone!

               I asked my husband what he had done with it, and he told me the last he saw it, the cup was still on the table next to my coffee.  But only my coffee cup was there.

               We looked all over the kitchen counter and even in the dog dish.  My pills were nowhere to be found.

               Finally, I looked in the cupboard and I had – in a moment of pure Freudian mindset – placed the little cup, still full of pills, back into the place it belongs!

               Apparently, even my subconscious does not want to take that pill.  (Never fear, I have a pill splitter and am not afraid to use it!)

               Two years ago, in January, we moved from our master bedroom on the second floor to the guest room on our first floor.  We were having a new shower installed in our bathroom upstairs, and thought that sleeping downstairs, next to another bathroom, would be smart during the work.

               We also have a third bathroom off our family room.  It is also downstairs and the furthest possible point inside our home from the upstairs bathroom.

               So, two years ago, we moved to the downstairs bathroom for a week or so. The actual work took two full months, because the shower stall didn’t fit the first time, then the installer broke a pipe under the sink, and eventually, the drain came unseeded or unhinged or whatever…so anyway, a lot of work got done in that upstairs bathroom.

               Meanwhile, we gradually moved many of our clothes downstairs.  We found out that we could easily share a small closet and use one dresser drawer each.  Of course, the close-down/lock-in of the pandemic helped, in that we didn’t have to go to work or dress up for anything.  I think I wore one of three outfits on any given day for about a year.

               But I digress.  During that same time, the toilet in the bathroom next to our new master bedroom started to leak. So we could go upstairs, or if in a hurry, race to the family room, but we gradually started not using the bathroom off the spare room.  Also, we got the brilliant idea to renovate (all those home remodeling shows we binged on!) both downstairs bathrooms.

               So, in May, 2021, we contracted with a renovator.  He said he would be able to start the first bathroom before Christmas.

               When Christmas arrived and he hadn’t, we realized he hadn’t said which Christmas, exactly.  In January, my husband and all-around problem solver contacted him and he said there had been material shipping delays and he’d start in February.  We totally understood about delays, and prepared to have a bathroom and the spare room torn up.

               We were moving upstairs!  So, we had to clear out both bathrooms, the downstairs bedroom, and the linen closet and utility rooms that are attached to one of the bathrooms.  I began to sift through cupboards and drawers and dressers and closets, filling trash cans, recycling bins, and donation boxes.

               For an organized person, the state of my bathrooms was pretty awful.  I mean, we’ve been in a pandemic for nearly two years now, and apparently, I have been stockpiling and/or not cleaning for way longer than that!

               Among the masses of things I found included seven (7!) tubes of antibiotic cream. (Let me digress again to say that these are things I can’t seem to find when I actually need them!)  There were three tubes in the downstairs bathroom, all three of which were hidden in various containers of other things – like bandaids and q-tips.  One was current, but two had expirations dates of 2019 and 2020. The other four were upstairs.  One was hidden behind an open, half-empty container of Tums.  It had an expiration date of 2018.  The second was behind another open, and also half-empty container of Tums.  It expired in 2017.  The third was okay, but was smooshed inside a container that held some loose Tums (clearly a makeshift travel package).

               I also discovered eight hairbrushes, six combs, and an Afro-pick.  There are only two heads in this house and neither of us has curly hair (okay, I had a perm that required the pick – but that was 30 years ago). 

               Good news!  Our house is clean and organized and ready for remodeling.  February has arrived, and the contractor has not.  But then again, he didn’t say which February….

My mother-in-law was a beautiful, smart, and strong woman.  She had a big and assured personality, which I admired very much.  I would call it dominating (never “bossy”!), but even now I’m reluctant to say that out loud.  Let me just say that for many years before and after my marriage to her youngest son, I was a tad bit intimidated by her.

               There were a few signs that I had gained her approval over the years, and in fact, we became close friends.  One of my favorite adventures with Mom was our annual Christmas shopping day.  As a public employee, I had Veterans’ Day off while most folks didn’t – they went to work and/or school, leaving stores and malls free.

               So we chose that day for an annual tradition that I loved.  We started with coffee and a visit to the cemetery to honor those who gave their lives in service to their country.

               Then it was off to shop and have a delicious lunch.  We did take the malls in bad weather, but our favorite thing was to pick a small town and shop in local businesses.  Over the years, we visited Covington, West Milton, Tipp City, Troy, Urbana, Piqua, Xenia, and Yellow Springs to name a few.  Mom knew of all the really cool fashion boutiques and often I got to help select the Christmas sweater that she would give to her daughter, daughters-in-law, and grandchildren. 

               One such location was Singer’s in Xenia.  Mom took me there one year because she believed that I needed a new winter coat.  Now, when Mom said, “I believe you need a new winter coat,” what that meant was, “You are getting a new winter coat.”

               It was a year I didn’t really have a good coat in the budget, especially not at Christmas-time. But at Singer’s! Oh, my, I found two coats that I just adored.  One was forest green and the other was royal purple.  They were both material, not leather or vinyl, and both beautiful and warm. The green was knee-length and the purple was ankle-length. I felt like a queen in both, but could afford neither one.  I was attempting to dissuade the whole “get a winter coat” idea, when Mom plucked up the purple one and took it to the counter, paying for it and handing it to me with a wave and a “merry Christmas!”

               It was over twenty years ago, and I still have the coat.  I also still wear it, because it’s not just pretty, it’s really warm. Many a day when I had to go to work in the single digit temperatures, that coat was a dream for me.  Singer’s closed their doors, sadly, a few years after Mom had purchased the purple coat for me.  And Mom passed away just under eleven years ago.

               I have kept the tradition of Christmas shopping on Veteran’s Day, although I don’t lunch by myself. I just pick a small town and go shopping, knowing that Mom would want me to enjoy those special “finds” only small businesses can give.

               About eight years ago, I was poking around a vintage clothing store in Dayton and found a teal-colored spring coat with the Singer’s label in it.  I tried it on, and it was a little tight.  Something just nudged me  – it might have been Mom – and I bought it.

               I put it in the back of the closet, and pretty much forgot about it.  During the last two years of the pandemic, I worked a plan to improve my health and in the process have lost about 25 – 30 pounds.  So this week, when I was cleaning closets and found the teal coat, I slipped it on.  Voila!  The coat fits perfectly. 

               I could almost hear Mom saying, “I believe you needed a new spring coat.” 

Many years ago, when my husband (and then boyfriend) and I were dating, I lived with a friend, who I’ll call “Deb.”  Deb is my longest-standing friend at this time, and we have shared a thousand funny and poignant moments.  One that I’ll always remember – and in fact, my husband and I still chuckle over – involves the movie The Big Chill.

               The movie came out the summer Deb and I were dating our future husbands.  We often double-dated, in fact.  Deb had been talking about The Big Chill for weeks.  She mentioned it nearly every day at least once, telling anyone who would listen that it was a great movie, people really liked it, and we should go see it.  She really wanted to see that movie.

               So one night, the four of us had been out to dinner and as we were leaving the restaurant, one of us suggested taking in a movie.  When we naturally posed the question, “what should we see?” Deb quickly and innocently stated, “Someone said The Big Chill was good.”

               This comment was met with hoots and guffaws from all of us.  She looked entirely puzzled until I finally caught my breath and said, “You said that, Deb!” To her credit, she did laugh, too – and we went to see The Big Chill.

               During that same time, my boyfriend and future husband used a number of funny expressions.  One of these was “No way, moosebreath.” I never did have any idea from where he adopted that one, but it always made me smile.

               Over the years, this expression (fortunately!) was lost among the many adventures we had.  But last night, we were sitting around watching television and I asked him if he wanted to watch a Hallmark movie.  He laughed and replied, “No way,” to which I naturally responded, “Moosebreath.”

               All big eyes and innocence, he laughed and said, “Moosebreath?  Who said that?”  To which I replied, “YOU did, for heavens’ sake!”

               He had the grace to look a bit embarrassed, but only a bit.

               Then he had to remind me that I had the most embarrassing “who said that?” story of all time.  About a decade ago, the movie “The King’s Speech” was released.  We went to see it with good friends, and had a great time.  It is, in fact, one of my all-time favorite movies.  So you might assume that I would remember in great detail the first time I saw it. (Let me digress to say that we purchased the DVD and I’ve watched it at least a dozen times since then).

               But just a few weeks after going to the theatre together, we were again out with those friends, talking about movies.  I asked them “Have you seen The King’s Speech?” and they were dumbfounded.  Finally, one of them said, “Yes, with you!”   I was a bit embarrassed, but they were good-natured about it.

               It was not such a smooth conversation when, about six months later, I actually purchased the DVD.  The next time we were out with those friends, I was telling them about buying it and ended with “Have you seen it?”

               Well, duh.  Yes, moosebreath, we’ve seen it.  And someone said it was good.