“Legs Inn”…An American institution…Authentic Polish Cuisine. We arrive in Cross Village at 12:00 noon: opening time. The roadway parking and lot are already jamming. It is a stunning fall day. Too late to be seated lakeside to view the gardens and Lake Michigan: we are just happy to get a seat…any seat. Looking at the menu: I, of course can’t pronounce any of the entrée’s. It excites me to taste dishes that surround my family history. We are not disappointed. We could not leave without takeout bags filled with goodies.
We are surprised to see that the “Tunnel of Trees” are not showing their stunning fall color. Later we learn that our evening destination further south, would be no different. Everything is two weeks late.
Mom turned 85 on September 21st. so we stop in Maple City to share birthday cheer and of course the Polish goodies from “Legs”. Arriving just in time for happy hour; we share our tradition of “Papa John’s”… one shot for each leg; of course.
Time for our good-bye’s come quickly. Darkness is in the air and we need to settle Clo’set for the night. We drive down Lin/Sher/Dave Lane and pull her in parallel to the Lime Lake shoreline on the lot that Mom and Dad gave to us. For the past 15 years we have worked diligently here: “creating what could be.” The property was designated 100% low land. Endlessly we worked with the DEQ finally being granted approval to transform an area 50′ from the water’s edge into high land. Later we worked with the SLLW Association to build a community septic now used by all on LSD Ln. Most memorable
are the hours spent with Mom and Dad; clearing the land with us; encouraging us as they helped us take a dense woods and transform it into what we see today.
The experience of living 8 days in a 90sf closet so comfortably has actually been liberating. Thank you Clo’set…we will be seeing you again.
Maddee turns 10.
every other Tuesday she leads me out of my comfort zone into Beaumont Hospital where she non-judgmentally comforts all of those around her. She travels through a family waiting room with dignified caring eyes and hugs that could fill an ocean. She, if for only for a moment takes a family’s concerning thoughts away from the loved one they are there for. I find myself out of my comfort zone often when we visit. Each morning before we arrive I call to learn about what patients have asked us for a visit on that day. We never know where our travels will take us. We go everywhere we are asked: ICU, Psych , Hospice, Cancer, Children. I see so much that I do not want to see. Maddee pulls me through. This past Tuesday we visited an individual for the second time in ICU. Two week ago she was on a ventilator; only her eyes could move. There were so many tubes and machines around her, I did not know how we could be of any help. So Maddee put her front paws as close as I could get them next to her hand where was inserted a tube. I took her hand and gently rubbed it against Maddee’s beautiful coat. There was little to no response. Before I left, I taped the below picture on one of the feeding bags hanging in front of her. I told her that the little one, “Miss Sophie”, was in training to do the same as her big sister someday. I left her room in silence. This Tuesday when I called for our assignments, she was still there. I searched through my photography collection and pulled a number of prints: sunsets, birds, squirrels; anything that I thought could make her day a better day. We arrive; her ventilator was now gone. Maddee said her hello and I pulled out my dozen or so pictures. One by one in silence, we traveled through a world that she had not seen in quite some time; the outdoors. I could sense she felt something. Then came a faint movement. Her lips moved; she smiled. With that I knew that Maddee and I did what we came to do. As we left that day out of her room, out of the ICU unit and on our way to our next assignment, I got on my knees and hugged this precious bundle. Without her beside me, never could I have done what I did on this day.
Happy Birthday Sweetheart
I admit it …I do not iron. Never have…never will. Having confessed that… to look into my closet it would suggest my profession as “Undertaker”. A woman of black and white. My “uniform” includes crisp white starched shirts or maybe I should call them blouses. The definition of blouse vs. shirt at the dry cleaners is serious change. Blouses $6-$7.00 vs. Shirts $2-$3.00 . I take strong issue with this.
To the right are what I will call two white units that I just picked up from the cleaners. The unit on the left I paid $6.00 to have ironed and the unit on the right I paid $2.00 to have pressed. They both are the same size, fitted men’s shirts that I have shortened in length.
For the past 8 years my dry-cleaners called the unit on the left a men’s shirt but somehow it became a women’s blouse during the past week. They explained that the length was now too short and it had to be hand ironed not machine pressed as all men’s shirts are. So 10 of my men’s shirts instantly became women’s blouses…A $65.00 hit that should have been $25.00. This did not sit well…
So last Saturday I completed a “sasc” re-creation on 10 men’s trim-fit shirts adding 2 inches to get to the longer length that defines this unit as a men’s shirt not a women’s blouse. A savings of $4.00 a blouse..I mean shirt….no I mean blouse…no now I guess it is a shirt.
You know what I mean.