I dig out the recipe and read the first line – “Scald the milk and let cool to room temp” – and I instantly feel a fluttery anxiety. Flashbacks. “Hey Mom, my sweetrolls didn’t do that initial first bubbly rise thing.” “Ahhh…you must have killed the yeast. Was your milk too hot?” Gah!! I have that written three times on my recipe, but it still threatens to botch up the batch. That first rise is always a nailbiter. Further down…
-
Alzheimer’s Disease is an ongoing exercise in grieving. Every loss along the course of decline forces us to release and let go. An image, a name, a memory, a task, a sense of self…
-
Read at Mom’s Celebration of Life Memorial in Tucson, Sept. 29, 2015 I’m Ellen O’Connor Sauer. I’m married to Barb and Dick’s son Joel, AKA #5, so Barbara has been my mother-in-law for the…
-
Written March 28, 2013 My brother-in-law, Lee, is an artist, a caricaturist, a writer, a handyman, a father, and the Recyclone in days gone by. He’s also a poet. On Monday he realized that…
-
My brother-in-law, Lee, is an artist, a caricaturist, a writer, a handyman, a father, and the Recyclone in days gone by. He’s also a poet. On Monday he realized that he had missed his…
-
Written September 26, 2011 Recently I was given the opportunity to witness a tremendous gift of loving honesty. It happened unexpectedly at a family weekend when my husband’s family was together at our home…
-
Written September 12, 2011 I know. At first glance the title of this post is a bit oxymoronic. After all, every single one of us has been touched in some way by the sadness…