I miss cooking

I miss cooking. Not the every day type of cooking. Not the "We're home from work and it's late and we're starving and what can we throw together?" type of cooking or even the usual run of the mill every day cooking.
No, I miss the cooking days John and I used to have every so often. There were some Saturdays that we would decide to make soup and it would literally take all day. There was one particular soup that was our favorite - potato soup.
Potato soup started out early in the morning by peeling a mound of potatoes. Then we made what was called Garbage Soup. This was a soup that was simmered for hours by making a soup of the potato peels and lots of garlic and spices. This made a broth to base the potato soup on. Some of it we saved and froze for minestrone on another soup Saturday.
After the garbage soup was just right we made the wonderful potato soup. Its aroma would fill the apartment, making us hungry and impatient. To tempt our taste buds even more, I would bake some bread to dunk in the soup. In the early days I made the bread by hand, kneading it on the kitchen counter top, getting out any frustrations from life in its bulk. Later, when we had more money, we bought a bread maker and just timed everything to be ready together.
Then - then! - that evening we would sit down and feast on our day's work - potato soup and crunchy bread. A feast for a king.
Was it an especially tasty meal? Yes, because - potato soup. What's not to like about potato soup? But there was more to it than that.
Making potato soup is one of my favorite memories about my earth life with John. I go back to it often. And I talk about it to my friends with fondness. Making soup with John was a treasure because we spent happy time together. We laughed. We talked. We played with our fur-babies. We hung out in the kitchen all day together. Nothing else mattered on those days. We lived in our own world surrounded by good smells, good food, and love. Lots of love.
There were other meals that we made that took all day, too - lasagna and fried chicken are two that I remember. Each of them reside in my heart for the same reason - more for the love than the actual food.
Today I eat a lot of frozen dinners, usually in front of the TV. Dinner for one just doesn't have that appeal. I could make the soups and lasagna again but it's not the same. I'd rather just cherish the memory of the days I spent with John.
But I miss the cooking - and I miss him.

Our Church wedding anniversary

John and I eloped in 1981. Years later we decided to have our marriage blessed in our Church. It was a wonderful magical day. 29 years ago!

39 years ago!

John and I became a couple on St. Patrick's Day 39 years ago.

Bunkie Day - 37 years!

John and I moved in together 37 years ago today.
He made us lasagna that night to mark the occasion.
He nicknamed today Bunkie Day and we celebrated it every year. It's still a wonderful day to me.

A rose - another Hello

I know I blog a lot about the ways that John continues to stay in touch with me and I hope people are not rolling their eyes and saying "Not again!". But I have to tell you that even I - no matter how many times it happens - continue to be amazed at how our loved ones can communicate with us across the veil. And it seems they never get tired of it.
And that makes sense. Do we get tired of saying Hello to those we love on this side? Of course not! I'm sure it's the same for them. Probably more so because of the circumstances and the fact that they know we are missing them.
For me, every nugget from John is precious.
Yesterday was a perfect case in point.
As I mentioned in another blog post, my birthday was March 1. I purposely didn't ask John for roses. He has sent them to me in one form or another in the past since he transitioned and I didn't want to be a glutton. I did send flowers - with roses - to myself because I know he would have if he were here and I like flowers. I was content.
So yesterday a dear friend took me out to lunch for my birthday to a restaurant both of us like. Our waitress was very nice and very attentive. Shelley - my friend - told her it was my birthday and she brought a candle over with dessert so I could make a wish.
But then she took it a step further.
Totally unbidden by anything we said or did, she showed up at my table with a beautiful single rose and wished me Happy Birthday again.
Shelley and I were both blown away and we looked at each other and said "John!".
We just knew. It had to have been him.
Even though I didn't ask, he sent me a rose. A single beautiful rose that meant more to me than I can express with mere words. My Love is alive and still loving me. He knew I was in a restaurant in Phoenix celebrating my birthday and he was there with me. How wonderful!
My point is simple. Keep looking for the signs. Never stop. The more we are open to them the more we will see them happening.
It's like any other relationship. If we keep investing in it, it grows. If we don't, we lose touch and the communication stops.
The joy it brings cannot be measured.
No, nothing is the same as having our loved one here with us in this three-dimensional life. But if a rose, or a feather, or a penny is what we have, I'll take it and I know you will, too.
Namaste.

A birthday Hello from John

Yesterday was my birthday. It was a happy day - I had lunch and dinner out with dear friends and I also received an unbelievable amount of birthday wishes on Facebook as well as cards and presents.
I am truly blessed.
And yes, I missed John. Occasions like this always make us wish we could celebrate them with those we love and yesterday was no different. The day would have been perfect - beyond perfect - if John had been here physically with me.
But he wasn't and I know that.
Yet, he managed to get a message through to me several times in ways that I knew it was him - a song, two perfect white doves and a message from Susanne a wonderful medium who is also a very good friend as well.
She wrote me:
"Happy Birthday & Many Blessings! J is sending you something with the clock
I was shown an older looking clock...?"
I couldn't imagine what she meant. All day I kept waiting for something to come through via a clock but the day ended and nothing appeared.
But today I think I have my answer. 
The back story is that many years ago John had built a fireplace for us in our bedroom. He even had planned eventually to use gas when it became available in our area and so had stubbed out a pipe through the wall for that purpose. We loved that fireplace and used it often. But since he has passed I am reluctant to use for fear of fire danger and also the work involved with cleaning it out and making sure the flue was in good working order. But I missed the ambience of the fire. So, a couple of months ago I had decided to convert the wood-burning fireplace to an electric fireplace, using an insert. My handyman told me it was possible.
And today was the big day. Tim admired John's handiwork, saying he could see how meticulous he had been with the brick work. It felt good to hear him say that. Tim also warned me there was going to be a mess and a lot of noise because he was going to have to drill between the bricks to gain access to electricity. When he slid the insert in, it didn't quite fit because of the gas pipe stub so he told me he was going to remove it as well. I left him to his work and went about doing some chores.
A few minutes later Tim came looking for me all excited.

"You're not going to believe what happened," he said. "Come see."

I followed him into the bedroom where he showed me the hole where the pipe had been. He then explained that he had snaked the electrical wire through it to see where it would go. Lo and behold it came out right by the electrical connection on the wall next to the fireplace, the exact spot he needed to tap into. There would be no need to drill anywhere. He couldn't believe his luck. We both felt John had intervened and actually helped him out. Tim looked heavenward and actually said "thank you".
The rest of the work went very smoothly and I now have a beautiful fireplace and can use it any time I want.
And the clock connection that Susanne had told me about?
If you look above the fireplace you will see an antique clock. I had given it to John many years ago as an anniversary present. It is one of his favorites. I feel sure this was what he was trying to show Susanne yesterday.