Ever since I read Lee Pennock Huntington's Hill Song, I've asked RH to plant marigolds with the zinnias. She writes of these two old faithfuls still rioting in the late summer garden. And they do.
She writes of her joy in putting small vases of them all around the house. I used to also. Now if I want flowers for the house I ask RH to go clip them because it's more difficult for me to get around on the garden paths since I use a walker to avoid more falls.
"I used to..." How many times do I say that now and think it? Never more so than when it comes to my cooking.
I used to be a good cook.
I used to like this recipe and that recipe. Almost all recipes.
Now I constantly find more recipes to mark off my menu options. After spending hours fixing them, only halfway garnishing them as I used to. Why do things not taste as good as they used to? Like my old favorite Salmon Mousse with Cucumber Dill Dressing. Far too rich.
Did we give it to the cats? Certainly not to BreeBree! Always more my favorite than RH's so the next day we spared Mama Cat and her kittens and dumped it in the trash can. Even the dressing I used to love where I peeled and shredded cucumbers, drained them an hour and added to the creamy dressing. Even that too rich now.
There are many other used to's.
I used to remember what I needed at the grocery store; I used to actually "go" to the grocery store.
I used to be able to start supper at 4 p.m. Now it must be started after breakfast during my most energetic part of the day.
I used to set a pretty table every night, with real cloth napkins. Ironed cloth napkins.They're still ironed, a whole drawer full of them but they rarely leave their drawer.
My kitchen linens still do get changed seasonally. There is that. The blues and reds replaced spring linens and go up from Flag Day through July, and then August's with colors a little closer to Autumn's. And yes, the door could use a little paint, or even cleaning.
After more than a year and a half of not blogging, I have now posted September 1, 2026 blog posts at both my blogs. Because I used to and I still want to, need to. I can do less and less these days but I miss creating a blog post. For myself, no matter how insignificant or boring they might be. No matter how much else I really ought to be doing in the house. Like dusting, something else I used to do faithfully, even with pleasure.
I still spend an hour or more writing on my books while resting with my toes up each day. But they are books that will never be published and that is why blogging was always so rewarding to me.
So here I go again. I don't want to say, "I used to blog."
