At brunch at the home of good friends, I knocked over a wine glass filled with orange juice. Fortunately, the glass did not break, and the juice missed a plate of pastries. I was embarrassed by my clumsiness. 

These things happen, I comforted myself. 

Moments later, I knocked it over again.  This time, there was very little juice spilled, but much more embarrassment.

Later that day, the hostess texted me a picture of herself sweeping up fragments of a similar glass that she had dropped while drying it.

I laughed out loud at the coincidence, but it inspired me to read about proprioception.

Also called kinesthesia, proprioception, is the body’s ability to sense its location, movements, and actions.  It’s also what’s the cops test when you have alcohol on your breath and are caught driving erratically.

So if you are dropping or knocking over more things, get used to it. And be ready to explain to any witnesses what proprioception is.

The only stores I shop in these days sell groceries.  So, when I am tired of my at-home-wardrobe, I sometimes order online. 

In early December, I ordered a gray long-sleeved shirt. Because of the US-wide shipping nightmare, I wasn’t surprised that it didn’t make it by Christmas. 

On January 24^th, it arrived.  Pictured above is the “gray shirt” I ordered. It was an obvious error because the inside receipt was for the right item. Customer service told me they would pay for my shipping it back, but the item is no longer in stock.  (My point that the person who ordered the dress must have my top, and it could be sent to me when it was returned was more than she could deal with.)

Just one more reason to prefer a pandemic-less life.

I have used my Cambridge bank for about thirty years.  One of my favorite things about it was its approach to customers.  When I called the bank, an actual person answered. 

When I call now, I get the following recorded message: “This is Judy (no relation) in customer service and we’ll be with you in a minute.”

Last week, I got an email from the bank saying my income tax report for my savings account was available online. (In the past, the bank mailed these reports.)   I logged in to my account, clicked on Documents as instructed, and got a message saying that page was not available.  I tried again a week later, and got the same message.  So I called customer service to report this, and after “This is Judy…”  I stayed on hold for a few moments before I accepted the option of having the Bank call me when someone is available to talk. No surprise, nobody called me back.

The electronic age has streamlined a lot of processes. Customer service is not one of them.

Those (like me) who devour the food sections of newspapers and subscribe to cooking newsletters, can’t miss the trend toward sheet-pan-cooking.  For those unfamiliar with that term, it means that protein, starch and vegetable(s) are baked on one sheet pan formerly exclusively used to bake a batch of cookies. 

Gone can be the days of scrubbing three-pans after dinner.

However, now that I am cooking for one most days, I have gone a step further.  I often cook my whole meal in a seven-inch cast iron skillet on one stove-top burner. Perfect for fish or chicken for-one, a sauteed green vegetable and rice reheated from a big pot previously frozen in single portions.  I start with a big splash of olive oil, often add some garlic and then whatever takes the longest to cook, etc

Try it.  You’ll thank me.

There were ten items in my mailbox yesterday. 

A copy of The Economist magazine, two letters from U.S. Social Security, an advertisement for daycare addressed to our son Seth who doesn’t live here and doesn’t have any children and six fundraising solicitations, four of them from organizations that I donated to last month.

It’s a shame that these non-profit organizations waste paper and postage to solicit contributions as frequently as they do.  It is rare for me to give to an organization more than once a year.

For the most part, non-profit organizations solicit for worthy causes.  However, it’s a good idea to check websites such as Charity Navigator or Guidestar.org to learn what percentage of your contribution goes to administration and fundraising before you donate.

The work these organizations do is vital.  But it sure would be nice to find a hand-written letter from a long-lost friend in my mailbox.

https://youtu.be/56qZblncQrs  It's short and wonderfully conducted by Leonard Bernstein.

My husband Peter often kidded me about putting words to classical music in preparation for music literature class exams.  It’s true—I cannot listen to some of the old “war horses” without those words singing in my head.

On Sadie Hawkins Day in 1968, after dating for almost three years, I asked Peter to marry me.  His reply, “I’ll do the asking when I’m ready.”

What has this to do with classical music, you ask?  Well, Peter and I often passed by a Mr. Gusil’s jewelry studio.  We always paused at the window to look at his beautiful work.  And I kept hoping a Mr. Gusils-made engagement ring was in my future.

One day, Peter, making fun of me, sang these words to the opening theme of the fourth movement of Haydn’s 88^th Symphony :  “I am going to Mr. Gusil’s.”  Repeat, over and over.

Eventually, he did go, and both my engagement and wedding rings were made by Mr. Gusil’s.  Peter secretly arranged an inscription on my wedding band, a musical staff containing the opening notes of the fourth movement of Haydn’s 88^th Symphony.

Yesterday, Boston’s classical radio station played a recording of that symphony. The first notes of the fourth movement brought tears to my eyes.

Although I hadn't thought about it in years, I have a vivid memory of my father complaining upon getting up in the morning that he “ached all over”. 

Lately, I wake up every morning hurting somewhere. Back, hip, leg, anywhere. Amazingly, it disappears once I’m out of bed and have taken a few steps. It doesn’t reappear again until the next morning.

I planned to call my older brother to find out if he too aches all over.  But I didn’t have to because when a close friend and I were walking yesterday, she happened to mention that she wakes up with various aches that go away when she is out of bed.

My whole day brightened. 

As an eighty-something who is grateful to be functioning reasonably well, I am vigilant about looking for signs of my “losing it”.  They appear to be happening more frequently now-a-days. 

Several months ago, (I may have reported this) I started the coffee maker without putting the carafe in its place, left the kitchen, and then spent way too much time cleaning up the mess from eight cups of coffee on my counters, the floor and in some of my cabinets.

A few days ago, I prepared a sauce for some salmon. When the oven reached 400 degrees, I threw the pan of salmon into the oven and continued with whatever else I had been doing.  Suddenly I realized that I had never put the sauce on the salmon.  Fortunately, it had enough sauced time to be quite delicious.

On Monday morning, it was very cold on my three-mile walk with a friend. So as soon as I got home, I eagerly hopped into a hot shower.  Something felt odd, and when I looked down, I saw that I was still wearing one very wet sock.

Can you top that?

It’s been a long time since I studied Latin with Miss Klinginsmith, but I understood Queen Elizabeth’s calling 1992 an “annus horribilis”.  That year had been a scandalous one for the royal family.

Although my family had no scandals this year (that I know of), I am happy to turn the calendar on 2021.  The anxiety and pain of another year of loss from Covid coupled with losing the love of my life after fifty-six years made 2021 a challenge I’d not want to repeat.

Fortunately, there were also happy moments.  I saw more of our children than in most years.  I watched our grandchildren become their own people—still loving brothers, just different from one another.  I made some new friends and learned a lot from my courses.  Because of my History of Boston Sports class, I watched every moment of a New England Patriot’s game all by myself. I learned a lot about pronouns in my gender class. I plan to learn more this year.

I wish an “annus mirabilis” 2022 for all.