Someone left a message for me to call back in the short bit of time I was out dropping off the kids.  The context wasn’t good (damn, it’s all context these days); it was a co-worker of a friend I haven’t talked to in a couple of years.

Ever get that sick, sinking feeling in your stomach when you absolutely KNOW with some degree of certainty that comes from somewhere else that this isn’t good news?

I thought of this friend yesterday; I haven’t thought of her in a while now, months.  I don’t know what jogged my brain into thinking about her, but I spent a little time thinking about her and the circumstances under which we’d talked last and how much has changed in my life since then.  I’m at a point in my life where I find I’m saying good-bye to a lot of things and this relationship was one of them.  We’d been very close at one point in time, but working for the same corporation did us no favors.  It affected how we interacted on so many levels; we couldn’t get around the work thing.  There’s so much more texture in this but sharing it doesn’t change that fact that once we were very close -- mind-reading close -- and now we are not.

My husband still called her husband from time to time, whenever he needed a fourth for golf.  Her husband could be counted on for a ready game and strong play, as well as a few good laughs.  But this year there weren’t any phone calls; my husband’s been too busy to play golf.  It only widened the gap between our families and our friendship.

I made the return phone call; I dispensed with the niceties, unthinkingly, reacting only from my gut.  Hello, I’m returning your phone call; how can I help you?  The co-worker on the other end paused, and told me she had some bad news.  I was afraid of that, I said.  My friend’s husband passed away suddenly while out of the country yesterday, she told me.  Ah, no, I was afraid that would be the news; her husband’s family had a history of heart disease about which my friend had fretted for so long.  We chit-chatted a bit about my friend’s condition; she confirmed the cause was suspected to be a heart attack and that arrangements weren’t yet made.  I gave her my email and expressed my thanks.

Looking back now, I must have seemed quite odd to her.  I know I was upset when she told me, but I already knew even before she said a thing.

I’ve been through this before, only four years ago.  A late night call from my husband’s parents one summer evening, unexpectedly breaking up our mid-week routine.  My first thought when my husband said his brother’s name out loud: My sister-in-law is a widow.

She was.  At age thirty-nine, with three little kids under the age of 6, a widow.

God, how we cried for weeks and months.  We still feel this loss, a big hole every holiday, every birthday, every family event, every time my husband could use a friend who is something more than just a buddy.  I still don’t think my sister-in-law is really over it (as if anyone ever really recovers from the loss of their soul mate), even though she has a very committed male friend now.  My husband even had a difficult time Halloween evening this year, choked on the recollection of a Halloween past with his brother.

And now, again, this time a friend, only forty-three years old. Again, the same awful grief, the same horror, the same pain.

No wonder it telegraphs ahead.

1:58:38 PM    comment []

Yeah, they’re here at home under foot again, running around and squealing and generally tormenting each other.  The kids have yet another half-day of school, starting late this morning just in time for lunch.  In the last month they’ve had two half-days for “teachers in-service”, two half-days off because of parent-teacher conferences, an entire day for some unspecified but pre-planned reason (preparing the report cards, maybe?) and two holidays.

Sheesh.  I would have loved this schedule as a kid.

One of my daughter’s teachers has taken advantage of this extra time to ask each child to prepare salt dough at home for a social studies project.  No problem – until one has a kid involved.  What is usually a few swift minutes of work stretches out to a forty-five minute ordeal, in spite of using the food processor.  There’s salt and flour all over the kitchen, a paste of salt and water here, a goopy slosh of flour and water there, utensils all over…and finally, a ball of dough.

I don’t remember ever making this stuff with my mom.  In fact, I don’t remember making this stuff until I was an adult.  Did you ever make salt dough as a kid?  I’ve heard horror stories about kids who tried to eat the stuff, particularly the recipe which uses white glue.  Ick.

Anyhow, I suppose after this morning’s assignment I’ll have to make more for use in Christmas ornaments.  My son feels left out and wants to play in the dough.  Sure, no problem – but I’m making it once the kids leave for school.  Maybe I’ll even get a chance to play with the stuff without anybody looking.  Go ahead, make some for yourself.

Salt Dough

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 cup salt

¾ to 1 cup warm water (may vary)

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Measure and stir together flour and salt in large bowl.  Mix vegetable oil with ½ cup water, then add to flour and salt mixture.  Stir together; if dough is crumbly, slowly add more water by tablespoons and stir/knead until dough pulls together and resembles bread dough.  Dough should not be sticky; if you’ve added too much water, slowly knead in a couple tablespoons of flour.

Do not eat.  For use by children 3 years of age and older.  Form dough into desired shapes and bake in a slow oven, 200F degrees, until dough is dry and firm.  Length of baking time will depend entirely on size of shape.

10:46:43 AM    comment []