Granny (J2) perpetually blows my mind. Granny, of course, is our supreme Southern Resident orca matriarch. Previously, J2’s birth year was estimated to be 1911, but recent genetic testing shows she is more likely of the same vintage as fellow elder matriarch Ocean Sun (L25), born circa 1928.

Chicken, though pricier that it used to be—what isn’t?—is still about the thriftiest meat you can eat. When I cooked chicken with green beans in curry sauce, extemporizing from what was in the freezer and the vegetable bin, the grandson who came to dinner, kept saying, “Mmm-mm, good!”

Folks, it pains me to rerun an old column, but your smart aleck has been ill this week, and my brain has put up a “closed” sign. While out watering my nasturtiums and hollyhocks today I felt a bug on my arm, and it was an earwig. It reminded me of this column. So, from 2013, I bring you:

Along with a number of other things, the issue of parking and safety along the Vashon Highway came up at the latest Park District commissioners meeting last night. This was not really the main event that all were in attendance for- that special part of the agenda was reserved for the ceremonial bid opening for the latest iteration of that giant sucking noise that is the VES fields project.

There are two important initiatives out there right now that you should know about.  Many of you have signed one or both, but I will try to explain them for those that need more information. The more straightforward one is I 735, which is intended to overturn the Supreme Court “Citizen’s United” decision. 

Everyone understands the importance of cleaning out the refrigerator on a regular basis. Granted, sometimes the motivation is a certain something in the air that turns out to be leftovers from three weeks ago.

Then, it seemed like my parents idea to go to Michigan was born of a desire to be in the best place possible for summers. Every year, for seventeen years, the pilgrimage to Grandma and Grandpa Anderson and Grandad and Grandma Richards was made.

These are our salad days. You don’t have to be vegetarians or vegans to put cold, high protein, salad-based meals on your table.  A white bean salad even looks cool, whether you chill it before serving or not. This one is adapted from an Azerbaidzhani recipe in“Cooking from the Caucasus” by Sonia Uvezian. 

This is the 100th “Road to Resilience” column. I originally began writing it as an outlet for ideas that were surfacing in our Transition Vashon group.  The Transition Network, of which we were a member, began in Great Britain in 2004.

Of course, your best bet is to avoid burns in the first place. I keep hot pads in the kitchen drawer next to the stove, and know from experience to use them.

One of the feelings which is part and parcel of grief but seldom is mentioned is relief.
The relative silence on the subject is perhaps due to the guilt a person might feel admitting that he or she feels relief that someone has died.

I just finished reading The Soil Will Save Us by Kristin Ohlsen.  I highly recommend this book.  Don’t be put off by the schlocky title; it is a well-researched and incisive report on the state of knowledge about soil.  It shows that much of the carbon now in the atmosphere could be locked up in healthy soil.  However, it is the nature of healthy soil that was most enlightening for me.

In responding to the question “How’s it going?”, one could easily be any number of miles from an aquatic environment and still be able to answer “swimmingly” if one were so inclined, and could very well do so whether or not that was indeed the case. In the word association game that one’s brain tends to constantly be playing, the mention of the word “swimmer” almost cannot exist without a picture of something blue, relatively clear and viscous appearing at least somewhere in the corner of the mind’s eye.

Orange construction fencing loosely waved in an effort to remain standing around the parcel of land. A crudely created sign designating an unsafe area inside the fence and warding off potential looky-lous, was stabbed into the earth at one end of the property.

A faithful reader, my daughter Suzanna, plagued with a recurrent sinus infection, asked me to jot down all my home remedies, the secrets to why when everyone else is down with a cold, the flu, sinusitis, arthritis, or any other malady, do I remain basically healthy.

All right, class, we have discussed the non-linear properties of grief. Non-linear means that the stages of grief which Elizabeth Kubler-Ross described for us do not happen in order. You don’t work your way through them like lessons from a textbook. More like they work their way through you, at unexpected times.

At the end, that is all there is, because there is no time for anything else. At the end, most of the time is spent seeking a way for it not to be so, especially when the end comes from nowhere, as if the ticking clock and the calendar on the wall were not clues enough.

The weeks around Mother’s Day, the first one after my mother’s death, bordered on unbearable this year. Distraught and preoccupied were the operative modes. On May 18, I was on a major bummer -- profoundly sad and missing my mother intensely.

It has been good to see a lot more people using their bikes as practical transportation.  I love to see mothers with their kids or cargo in bike trailers.  There always seems to be a bike or two outside the grocery stores.

Jury duty was, as I expected, heck.
The slickest part was taking the bus. You get a bus ticket with your jury summons, so the fare is covered. I parked at my church parking lot, which the county uses as a park and ride, and went out to the side of the highway to wait.

This is a dish I learned to make by peering over the shoulder of my then-young husband’s grandmother, born Jane Macbeath. She was Scotch, not Scottish. She wanted it clearly understood that she was a Highland Scot. “Scottish,” she told us, “are people who live near the English border.

A month from today, as I write this, I am officially retired from 52 years of caring for and teaching other people’s children and parents. Wow! That is a long time to have car seats in the car and be changing poopy diapers.

In recent years, I’ve really gotten tired of the common use of simplistic labels that cause us to bypass our critical faculties to accept judgements about matters that our leaders and pundits would rather not look into too closely.