A Mini Mystery

            

I am a street walker. Ha – bet I got your attention with that! I mean to say, I walk quite a bit along the streets of my neighborhood. I walk my dogs almost every day, and then, because I have a very old dog who cannot walk too far, I walk myself. I like to vary my route, walking some days on the east/west running streets and other days on the north/south running streets. Some days I get really crazy and combine the two. I often walk down streets I’ve never walked before. It is fun to check out others’ homes and gardens and front door color choices.

            

There is a very curious thing that I have seen on every walk I have taken for the three plus years I have lived here. On random streets throughout my neighborhood I see small empty plastic liquor bottles; the little ones you would get on a commercial airline. At first I thought nothing of it; perhaps it was just something that spilled from someone’s household trash. But I began to notice that as soon as the old bottles were flattened by someone’s car tire new bottles show up. And not just one bottle occasionally. I see several bottles scattered along different streets every day.

The brands and types of liquor vary also. I have seen vanilla vodka, Captain Morgan, tequila, Bacardi rum, bourbon, and various flavors of schnapps, just to name a few. I am stymied by this. Who is driving or walking through my neighborhood taking shots of alcohol from teeny tiny bottles? Is it a bored housewife? (I swear it isn’t me!) A teenager? Someone’s housekeeper walking to and from the bus stop? A businessman or woman on his/her way to work every morning? One of the many dog walkers in the neighborhood? The mail carrier?

Perhaps I should begin documenting where I find the bottles and map it out. I could enlist the other neighborhood street walkers, I mean walkers, to help me unravel the mystery. I can see it now. A bunch of middle aged women in trench coats with binoculars and walkie-talkies tailing suspicious looking characters (aka the school crossing guards, the teachers from the elementary school, etc.).

I’ll report back if this mystery is ever solved. In the meantime I should probably get a life.

Post Birthday Blog

            I did it. I survived the fifty-seventh year. That may not sound like much, but for me it was a big deal. Fifty-seven was sort of a curse that I tried my best to turn around. I think I succeeded. I also think my mother would be proud of me, and that’s an important part of the success. Mom didn’t get her fifty-seventh year, so I tried to live mine in the best way I could as a tribute to her.

            I had twelve big goals. I hit most of them, got close on a few, and will continue working on others. It dawned on me about three months in that I had started something that is unending. Once you make a vow to intentionally live your best year, how can you stop? It’s not like I don’t want my fifty-eighth year to be just as good, or better. I can’t just say, “Yep, fifty-seven was awesome. Now I’ll have a mediocre year.”

            It has been fun congratulating myself on my success. It has been even more fun to have friends and family congratulate me on my success. But really – didn’t I just do what should be done? Have we become so complacent as to think doing one’s best is out of the ordinary?

            The past year proved to be more than just living my best life. It was a year-long therapy session. I became extremely introspective and somewhat withdrawn. I noticed that in order to make the changes I wanted to make I had to spend quite a bit of time with me; serious time. I learned a lot. I hope I will remember it always.

            Now I’m living my fifty-eighth year. It will be even better than fifty-seven. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Can’t believe I didn’t know that. Or, maybe I knew and just forgot. 

Forage

for·age

fôrij,ˈfärij

verb

1.

(of a person or animal) search widely for food or provisions.

"gulls are equipped by nature to forage for food"

noun

1.

bulky food such as grass or hay for horses and cattle; fodder.

2.

a wide search over an area in order to obtain something, especially food or provisions.

"the nightly forage produces things that can be sold"

The most important words in today’s blog are: forage, pecan pie, and Scott.

This is why:

Forage – Newton had his apple and I had a pecan. The pecan didn’t literally fall on my head, but close. A pecan fell near me as I was on my morning walk a couple of weeks ago and I had my own eureka moment. There are millions, or maybe almost one hundred pecan trees in my neighborhood. Everyday I step on and over pecans. Why not gather them (forage)?

Pecan Pie – This traditional Thanksgiving dessert is a staple on my table come the fourth Thursday in November. I make it from my mother’s recipe. Why not use pecans foraged from my neighborhood?

Scott: My daughter’s partner whom I love dearly. His favorite pie is pecan, not Key Lime. (Which is a much easier pie to make, just sayin’.)

How to Forage for Pecans

As I have begun picking up pecans on my morning walks I have come up with some rules, or suggestions for foraging.

1. Know your trees. Oak trees drop acorns. Pecan trees drop pecans. There is a big difference. My dogs will eat acorns, but they will eat anything. I have never heard of an acorn pie. Now surely someone will comment that acorn pies are considered a delicacy in some parts of the world (Appalachia?).
2. Limit your foraging to the pecans which have fallen in the street or other public area. Do not pick pecans from lawns of private homes. That would be trespassing and stealing.
3. Wear pants or a jacket with deep pockets.  
4. The best pecans come from the trees located in the greenest lawns. The people who tend their lawns also tend their trees, ergo better pecans.
5. It is okay to shell and eat the pecans as you gather them. I do not recommend this to anyone with a manicure.
6. Opt for groups of multiple pecans versus the solo nut. This limits the number of times you have to bend over. You will thank me for this in the morning.
7. Avoid the houses with multiple cats in the front yard. They like that pecan leaf litter next to the curb for a reason.
8. If squirrels start following you, run like hell.

Good luck on your pecan hunting.

Oh crap, I forgot that the next task is to shell them.