Two Noras

 I've started a new blog for my 2021 project. 

I'm transcribing Grandma Nora's daily journal and adding my own thoughts. 

You can find it here: https://twonoras.blogspot.com

Athbhliain faoi mhaise daoibh

Go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo arís ~ May we be alive at this time next year. 

I decided that 2021 should be welcomed with as much luck as can be found, so I've been reading about Irish New Year traditions in an effort to help ring in the new year in style. 

Flinging Bread Against the Door. 

This tradition seems especially apt this year. To banish the greatly feared dangers of hunger, a piece of cake or bread is dashed against the door by the man or woman of the house, while reciting a verse that translates to: We call on famine, out as far as the land of the Turk, from tonight, to a year from tonight, and from this very night, be gone. 

I baked a loaf of soda bread this evening. I'll be flinging some, while saving enough for a nice midnight snack. I didn't have any buttermilk, so I curdled milk with vinegar. I'm anxious to sample it. If it's not good, I'll fling it all in to the backyard for the squirrels. 

Clean, clean, clean. 

Quite frankly, I tried to ignore this one, but it kept popping up. The idea is that a clean house represents a clean slate. 

I spent the day cleaning and I'll admit that it is nice to look around and see some order to the madness - although my table-turned-work-area still needs some work. 

Mistletoe, Ivy, and Holly

People who are alone on New Year's Eve are encouraged to put a spring of holly, mistletoe, or ivy under their pillow - the tradition says that you will dream of the one you are to marry. 

I snipped a sprig of holly from by beloved holly bush this evening. I'll keep you posted! 

Out with the Old and In with the New. 

This one seems to have two versions - one is to open your back door before midnight to let the old year out and to open the front door at midnight to welcome the new year in. The other version calls for entering your front door at the stroke of midnight and walking out the back. I'm planning on both, just to be safe. 

Honoring the Dead. 

This is the most famous tradition. On New Year's night households across Ireland set a place at the table for those lost the year before and door off the latch. 

I've really been thinking about my friend Lana, who died in March. We last worked together at the Red Key three years ago this evening. I'm so sorry that I didn't push her for a photo of us together - she was busy arraigning and rearranging and making everyone feel welcome. 

I've started several posts about Lana and haven't been able to properly capture her spirit - I'll make sure that I do that soon....https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/indystar/obituary.aspx?n=lana-june-seacott&pid=195941953

Tomorrow I'll put a plate out for her and the others that have died this year. 

In the meantime: 

Misfortune Be Gone, And Happiness Come In, From Tonight To A Year From Tonight, In The Name Of The Father, And The Son, And The Holy Spirit, 

Amen. 

Another Gouda Day

I opened my Advent cheese this morning, since it it worked out so well for lunch yesterday. 

The Mustard Gouda paired nicely with the ham, although I shouldn't have tried to grate it - it was way too soft. I didn't have any salad dressing and it didn't miss it at all. 

I've been tried to shave WW points here and there to make up for the crazy eating that I've been doing at work. 

So much candy! I'd lost nine pounds since March and have gained three of it back in the last six weeks. What the heck is wrong with me? 

Tomorrow is the start of a new Weight Watchers week - my goal is to track, track, track - and ignore those delicious Reece's trees. 

 

It's a Red Leicester Day

 

I peeked at today's Advent cheese early this morning. It was a new one to me. A little nibble showed that it was crumbly and yummy. I grated it into my lunch salad. 

It's amazing how fluffy half an ounce of Red Leicester cheese clouds into. 

It paired really well with the arugula (some from my container patch), cucumber, Brussels sprouts, my last garden tomato, and slice of ham. 

Maybe before the month is over I'll get classy and pair the cheese with wine or something...

It's a Gouda Day

Today was a good day. 

I'm a cheese purist at heart. I ate this beautiful slice of gouda as is. 

 

Onion and chive cheddar-icky

 

I suppose it was inevitable - I met a cheese I don't like. Today's Advent cheese was laced with onion and chive - aren't those the same thing? 

I'm in the small camp that believes that onions aren't food. 

I tried to balance it out with slices of my last garden tomato and the peppery arugula that it still growing in it's covered container. 

I couldn't do it. I took a nibble to say that I tried it. The onionness was too much. 

Cheers to tomorrow's cheese! 

Another Gouda Day

Today's Advent cheese surprise was Mediterranean Gouda. It had little flecks of um, Mediterranean stuff. I wound up just nibbling at it while baking cookies. 

I worked a little later this evening. I try not to grouse too much about going to work in the dark and coming home in the dark, but it's hard to stay motivated. 

My goal for this evening was to do some inside holiday decorating. 

I didn't manage to do a lick of decorating. Or cleaning. 

I did bake another batch of Snickerdoodles and popped them in the freezer. That counts for something, right? 

I'm working at Second Helpings early tomorrow morning and the Red Key tomorrow evening. Tomorrow's at-home chore list is small - eat cheese! 

Gouda Evening!

Happy December 3rd...or Black Pepper Gouda Day. 

My intention was to melt whatever the cheese of the day was on to a serving of turkey chili for my dinner, but somehow black pepper cheese on chili didn't sound appetizing. 

I'm really struggling with my weight. I'd stayed at my Weight Watchers goal weight for three years and let it go to hell two years ago. Somehow I've managed to lose six pounds during the pandemic and just need to lose four more to get back to my goal weight. 

I've really been buckling down on counting points and trying not to blow the progress I've made, but it's been a struggle the last two months. We have so much candy floating around Second Helpings and I've been baking.

 I tried to make this meal last....the next struggle is not to sample the Snickerdoodles I'm baking....I wouldn't take any bets on my willpower. 

Hello Cheese!

The pandemic has caused me question some of the things I held close to my heart. 

As much as I'm a collector of things....I'm lookin' at you PEZ...I've never been one to stockpile food or paper goods or cleaning supplies. My mantra is was, "I live in the 17th largest city in the country, there is no need to buy ahead." 

Boy was I wrong. 

I quickly regretted my habit of not buying another package of toilet paper before I was down to one roll, which led to me being grateful of my habit of keeping a box of tissues in every room. 

And I didn't want to be in the stores more than necessary so stopping at the market just to pick up one or two things felt crazy, even dangerous. I now have a running grocery list and after work on Wednesdays has become my shopping day. The fact that the new fun stuff in Aldi's "aisle of surprises" shows up on Wednesday is a bonus. 

Having food in the cupboard and freezer has led to me cooking more than my standby meals. This summer I was obsessed with rhubarb. I even planted some this fall, hoping for a next summer harvest. 

It's the season for my obsession for cranberries and have gone a little nuts buying bags of the tart fruit. Last week I made Grandma Leona's cranberry salad and experimented with baking cranberry-lemon bars. 

I still have three bags of cranberries in the fridge and two in the freezer. 

This morning I cooked down a bag of cranberries with the zest of one lemon and a tablespoon of sugar and a bit of water. Delicious! 

This evening it was the perfect topping to today's Advent cheese. 

*I just realized that my fingers are the same color as the ham. Ewww! 

Countdown to Christmas....or one day closer to 2020 being over?

I'll totally admit that my was attitude this morning - we were one day closer to the end of this crazy year. 

On the way to work all I could think about was getting back home to my cheese Advent calendar. Wouldn't you? And I'd shown great restraint in last the two weeks that it had been peering back at me in the refrigerator. 

On the way to the promise of Edam it turned out to be a great day - a real slice of the great things that happen at Second Helpings each day. 

It's Giving Tuesday so there were the happy sounds of thank you calls to Second Helpings donors happening around me. We may have set a new record for pounds of food rescued in one day. Volunteers and my co-workers made thousands of meals that will be distributed at no cost to the community. 

I am constantly blown away of the support the community shows to Second Helpings. I got to field a phone call for a generous financial donation, coordinate a pasta donation, and marvel at all of the beautiful food that is donated. That's a lot of use of the word "donate" in one sentence - but we seriously couldn't do it without the donors. 

Happy December First. May your countdown to Christmas be full of light and cheese. 

 

birthday.

I've been a little melancholy about turning 59 today.

Being in your 50s is one thing, but 59 is barreling straight toward being in your 60s. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it just doesn't seem like it could be true.

I have wonderful friends, my parents and siblings are all healthy and we all love each other, I have terrific and rewarding job/s, I have a lovely home, and I (mostly) like myself.

Still, 59! What the hell?

One of goals for this last year of my 50s is to get in better shape. I met my weight goal three years ago (thanks to WW) and held steady for two years and then whoosh! 

I could blame last year's broken ankle, the cake recipe I was testing for the State Fair, slowing metabolism, work....any number of things. My disappoint in my self if that I know what to do.

I decided to kick off my new year by starting to do something about it. I walk/jogged the Mini-Marathon this morning. All 13.1 miles in my small house, pajamas, and bare feet. 

I took today off and my plan was to walk through the neighborhoods to downtown and back. But it was raining. My back ached. I was hungry. Where were my ear buds? I could tell that I was losing steam and was ready scrap the idea.  

I launched out of bed and went for it. I came in first (of the people in my house, anyway)!

I did take time to set up my own finish line.

hunker down projects

On social media I see so many friends tackling big projects while they're sheltering at home. Making quilts, painting furniture, landscaping, homeschooling, cleaning out their garages.....doing big stuff.

Even though I'm still working full-time at Second Helpings, I'm not working Saturday nights at the Red Key or the occasional Sunday at Marigold. I don't have any writing deadlines, I can go to Mass on my own schedule, and any concerts or parties have been cancelled.

Since I have an abundance of energy in regular times, you'd think I'd channel it and all of my free time into painting the house or starting a novel or scanning the boxes of photographs in my closet or writing letters or organizing my Christmas ornaments or cataloging the PEZ collection....or even keeping up with Words With Friends and birthdays greetings on Facebook.

Nope.

I spent the first few weeks overwhelmed and tired. Second Helpings is doing amazing things and we were working seven days a week in a combination of onsite and at-home shifts and conference calls and planning.

Leaving the house and coming home felt exhausting. I leave my shoes and anything that I was bringing home on the porch, take my clothes off inside the door, run to wash my hands, sanitize the door knob and my keys, toss my clothes down the laundry chute, shower, sanitize my watch and jewelry and glasses, start laundry, sanitize my purse and lunch bag on the porch and fall into bed.

Not that I was sleeping well. I was waking up several times a night in a panic - taking my temperature and realizing that I was hot because the cat was laying on my head or was shivering because the blankets had fallen away. Worrying about COVID-19 symptoms messes with you dang head.

I've certainly settled down. Work has evened out. It's a true testament to how nimble Second Helpings is that we pivoted overnight in how we deliver meals to the community. Not to mention doubling the number of people that we're serving.

I'm sleeping (mostly) through the night and I no longer obsessively take my temperature (now just before I leave the house).

I was feeling guilty that I didn't have a good answer to the question that invariably comes up in Zoom meetings, "what are you doing to keep yourself busy?" Answering "laundry and keeping the cat alive" doesn't seem ambitious enough.

I finally realized that getting through this is a big enough accomplishment in itself. In order to quit feeling like an underachiever I've given myself a list of small things that I can do to feel like I've accomplished something.

This evening I separated a jar of coins from the buttons, pocket lint, and safety pins that had collected there. I went as far as rolling the pennies and separating the Euros from the Canadian coins.

Look at me go!

happy saint patrick's day

Back in February - that seems so long ago - when I gave up booze for Lent and gave myself a Saint Patrick's Day dispensation, I assumed that I'd be drinking Irish whiskey in a crowd and toasting with friends today.

Boy was I wrong! We're in the midst of social distancing and staying home to attempt to curb the devastation of COVID-19 

I worked from home today. I got a great deal done and am close to cleaning out my email queue. I took a big walk after work - keeping at least six feet from people. It was great to soak in some sunshine and see other folks, even if I didn't talk to anyone.

I decided to have my own Saint Patrick's Day celebration. My dinner consisted of an Irish banger, steamed carrots with a pat of Kerrygold butter, potato salad, and pea shoots served on a Belleek plate. I put the mustard in a little pot from an Irish pottery company. Guinness and a wee pinch of Tullamore Dew rounded out the meal.

Oddly, I'm having a hard time finishing the beer and whiskey. Probably just as well. Tomorrow is a new day of work that is sure to bring even new challenges. I'm proud of the way that Second Helpings is reacting to the crisis. You can read more about that by clicking here: https://www.secondhelpings.org/4-days-ago

In the meantime, take care of yourself and wash your damn hands!

Sláinte mhaith!

Happy Pancake Tuesday!

Today I was contemplating how to celebrate Shrove Tuesday - or Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras - all names for Ash Wednesday Eve.

As kids we took full advantage of getting in one last shot at whatever you pledged to give up for Lent. It was the time for one last chance to pinch your sister or roll your eyes at your brother or to savor a coveted chocolate bar. Mom would make a special meal that included dessert and we would whoop it up, Boone County farm kid style.

I still take Lent very seriously, not only giving something up (usually booze) but trying to do something extra (typically pledging to write notes to folks to let them know how much I appreciate them).

This evening, I considered my stand-by walking to the Red Key for a Jameson whiskey or driving to a fast food joint for French fries and a diet soda. I'm giving up the drink this year - both booze* and diet soda.

I remembered reading that the Irish celebrate by eating pancakes. According to lore, the tradition started because you needed to use up your eggs and sugar - things that were not allowed to be consumed during Lent. I really enjoyed this explanation. 

As luck would have it, I had all of the ingredients at home. In the spirit of using things up, I added lime zest to the batter and made lime syrup.

I poured my diet Pepsi in an Apollo glass in honor of Katherine Johnson, who died yesterday. I used my Lord's Prayer glass for my carefully-measured ounce of Irish whiskey.

I think it was a pretty decent way to celebrate Shrove Tuesday. Although I'd totally pinch my one of my sisters if I happened to see one of them in the next hour and a half. 

Wonder how many pancakes are being consumed in Ireland today? Here is the surprisingly precise number: 
https://www.irishtimes.com/news/offbeat/pancake-tuesday-irish-people-love-to-go-on-the-batter-1.2989835

*I'm reserving the right for a Saint Patrick's Day dispensation.

surprise visitors and new year's resolutions

My 2019 resolutions included refinancing Chez Pez to a shorter term mortgage, getting back to my WW goal weight, firing up the blog again, keeping a houseplant alive, and making a will.

I seem to have discovered my green thumb and the plants are flourishing, as are the cuttings I've grown from them. The house is starting to look like it's occupied by a plant hoarder.

I signed my new mortgage (knocking almost 10 years off), just under the wire, on December 20. Last week, after a whiskey (mine not hers), I mentioned the will to the attorney that will make it happen, so that sort-of counts.

Getting back to my WW goal ain't gonna happen in the next two hours, so here we are, at the 11th hour, updating the blog.

I wouldn't be sharing any of this with you, if not for a visit from the Morrows and a promise to Cliff that I would update the blog before the year was over.

I'd been feeling a little blue this fall...nothing specific, just in a funk.

In October I was lucky enough to be invited to the twins 11th birthday celebration - visiting the haunted house at the Children's Museum. I was looking forward to it - hanging with Tammy and kiddos in costumes and I'd never been to the haunted house.

Even though we had timed tickets the line wrapped up a ramp and into a room and then another room. I was in a panic - I was clearly going to be late for work - did I bail or were we almost to the main event? Ultimately I stayed in line, but I was feeling the stress of being late but not wanting to ruin the party.

I wound up being an hour late to work. I'm not known for my timeliness, but this was an all time record. I hoped off the bus and raced into the front door of the Red Key making apologies as I went. As I was trotting towards the back of the tavern to hang up my jacket I whooshed by a table and and mumbled "hey Cliff." By the time I took two more steps it dawned on me....Cliff and Marilyn were sitting at the Red Key - and they live in Nebraska!

I hadn't seen them since Blogstock in 2008.

They were kind enough to route their vacation through Indianapolis on a Saturday night to visit me at the Red Key! I was gobsmacked at their generosity!

And I swear that I've been in a better mood ever since then. Their thoughtfulness in planning their trip to include a surprise visit flipped a switch in my brain. It has reminded me of the power of face-to-face visits and friendship.

I've been making an effort to have more visiting time recently and all visitors are welcome here...except maybe for the possum currently residing on my porch - that's a post for another time.

Big thanks to Cliff and Marilyn for coming to Indianapolis. I can't begin to tell you how much it meant to me.

Here's to a great 2020 and another resolution crossed off the list - with almost two hours to spare!

Cheers!

big chill

 I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. This is #11

Some people get geeked out over classic cars - I'm all about vintage appliances...and the things that go with them.This stove is what started my obsession. It is a Frigidaire made by General Motors. 

My kitchen is too narrow to get a good photograph of the behemoth. It has two ovens, a warming drawer, three burners, and a crockpot-like thingie. Everything works but the clock.
.

This beauty is the newest resident of Chez Pez. It's a 1949 Crosley Shelvador and I've only had it for about a month.

 

Do you know why it's called a "shelvador?" It has shelves in the door! Quite a revolution at the time. 

Before you all start in on the energy efficiency thing, refrigerators from this era were built when electricity was more precious so they were made to be as efficient as possible. They are smaller than modern ones and they don't have automatic defrost so they're not constantly running to keep up. 

I actually enjoy the defrosting process - and hanging laundry to dry and hand-washing my dishes. It is a chance to slow down and enjoy my cozy house.

This General Electric fridge was my first vintage refrigerator and we had seven good years together. After it gave up the ghost I thought I wanted something newer. 

I got this lovely turquoise refrigerator after that, but we never really bonded. It ran ALL of the time and never stayed at the right temperature - stupid defrost feature. It was perfect for craft beer root vegetables. Our relationship didn't last that long. I loved the way it looked, but it just wasn't practical worrying about food safety and all. 

Having the new /old has made me excited about eating healthy again and using my Pyrex refrigerator dishes.

insomnia

I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. Here is #10...

I've spent a lot of time in the last 20 years not sleeping. 

At first it was because there was so much music to hear and books to read and people to meet. 

For eight of the years that I've lived at Chez Pez I worked in a coffeehouse and bakery. I would get there around 5:30 in the morning and work at the counter until noon-ish, do paperwork, ordering, banking, and scheduling for a few hours then go home for a nap or laundry or whatever.

On evenings that we had music I would go back to work around 6:00 pm and work until it was over. Most nights I was going out to see music after that. 

I used to joke that my life was a series of naps. 

And it was fine. I've never needed a lot of sleep. I was the kid reading under the covers with a flashlight when I was young. 

I was always a good sleeper - it never takes me too long to conk out and I can sleep just about anywhere. 

Then one night I just woke up. Wide awake. For no reason. 

It happened again and again and again, night after night after night. 

In those days, um, nights - I'm guessing it was about 15 years ago - I would get dressed and head out the door to walk through the neighborhood. In retrospect it wasn't the safest thing to do, but I was never worried. 

I had my little route, I'd zigzag through about a six block area always having in mind who's porch I'd run onto if I felt afraid. 

One early morning I as I was looking at posters in the window of LUNA music I saw a guy sitting on the bench on the corner. I sort of recognized him and we struck up a conversation. As it turned out his wife was part of my extended circle of friends. Tom and I had a nice chat at 3:00 AM. That's how all friendships start, right? 

Now I'm a little wiser about my middle of the night adventures. After reading this article I started embracing the idea of a "second sleep." I will get up and do dishes or read or make my lunch for the next day. I might get as far as my backyard, but no more wandering the neighborhood. 

Sleep tight, my friends. 

best job ever!

I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. Here is #9....

This ranks as the Number One Great Thing that has happened since I've lived in my house.

I became an aunt. 

Best gig ever. 

Before I held my sweet niece for the first time 16.5 years ago I seriously didn't know that I could love anyone that much. 

That same wave of love crashed over me when my nephew was born two and a half years later. 

The above photo was taken when the Cubs won the National League pennant in Chicago last month. How grown up they are! 

I worry that I don't spend enough time with them. No excuses - between my jobs and other obligations and their sports schedules and school and social lives and the fact that they don't need babysitting any more we need to work on time together. 

Which I'm pledging to do now. 

I could spend all night posting photographs of these smart, kind, amazing people....I'm also aware that they might not want a ton of pictures of their young selves for all of the world to see. 

I made myself hone it down to a few of my favorites....

Molly's First Communion - I'm lucky enough to be her godmother. 

Quick-draw John showing how it's done at the O-K Pez Corral. 

. 

election day.

I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. Here is #8. 

I love Election Day! I always pick out a special voting outfit - this year it is a Statue of Liberty skirt, black top, boots, and my favorite accessory: the "I Like Everyone" pin. 

I know that I have voted in every single presidential and general election since I was eligible to vote. 

The first presidential election I voted in was in 1980 and I was a freshman at Purdue. I can't swear that the polling place was in my dorm, but it very may well have been. It went off road that year and voted for John Anderson. I liked Jimmy Carter okay, but he didn't seem too exciting and I couldn't wrap my head around Ronald Reagan. Why I found Anderson exciting I don't know. In my defense I was 19 years old. 



This year I even accessorized the house - red, white, and blue lights across the house and red, white, and blue paper lanterns on the porch. 

I try to make sure that I'm as well informed as I can be. I've never been a straight ticket voter, I do my best to vote for the person that I think can do the best job. 

In the last 20 years either the presidential elections have gotten more exciting or I'm paying better attention. 

Today was my fifth time voting in a national election since I've lived at Chez Pez. Toss in the national primaries and "off year" elections and primaries, I've voted in basement of the church down the street with the red door than I have anywhere else. 

The church is only five blocks away and I swear each time that I'm going to walk to vote. I've only managed to do that four times in the last 20 years. I'm usually cutting it too close to when I need to be on the road for work so I drive. 

This morning I arrived at 7:15 which was perfect timing. The long line from the 6:00 am folks was over and I breezed right in. The great thing about living in one place so long is that everyone knows your name. Don't worry - I still had to show my identification. 

Last week when Tammy asked if I could watch the twins on Election Night my knee-jerk reaction was "no way!" There were results to watch, whiskey to drink, and possibly champagne to pop. 

Then I realized that the company of two eight-year olds would be the best company for the evening. Not to get all sappy and stuff but I'm counting on that generation for a lot of things. 

Eight years ago I'd been to a watch party in the neighborhood where the hosts cleverly had maps and crayons so we could color in the states as they declared who won each state. By the way, I totally stole Kirsten's idea this year...anyway.....

2008's map

I met up with Tammy at the Red Key on my way home. She was coming back to the neighborhood after being with the twins at the NICU  As Tammy and I watched the returns on the slightly fuzzy television at the bar where talking politics is frowned upon she told me how excited she was that her kids would grow up in a time where having an African-American president was a reality. 

I wondered if we'd ever see a woman on the ballot in our lifetime. Tammy was confident that we would and she was right. 

2016 map. 

I brought maps and crayons and candy for the kids thinking we'd color in the states and watch the returns. Art, geography, math, and civics all with one page and two crayons. 

Exciting, right? 

I quickly realized I was out of touch with the eight year-old citizens of my district.  

I couldn't compete with Madeline and games. But that was okay. We did talk about the electoral college and who was winning and what the governor and senators do and such. 

As I type we're still not sure who will be the next president. I do know that no matter who wins, hearing the news with a stinky pair of little feet on my lap and a snoring kiddo attached to them gives me hope. 

p.s. - I said this four years ago and I still believe it. 

matt.

I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. Here is #7. 

I was chatting with my neighbor Kipp last night about recounting the memories of the last twenty years in the house. I was telling him that I was feeling sad thinking about friends and relatives that have died and disappointed in myself that I haven't done more to the house or in life or whatever. He pointed out that I'm "feeling all of the feels." 

Part of the issue is that I'm not an introspective person by nature. I seem to have a decent ability to keep moving along. I wake up each day in a good mood no matter how I was feeling when I went to bed (or cried myself to sleep or whatever the case may be). 

If you've ever taken the StrenghsFinder assessment you won't be surprised to learn that my #1 strength is Positivity. Being positive all of the time is mostly a great thing. I don't spend a lot of time worrying about what might go wrong. 

Being constantly positive also has it drawbacks. I'm never sure when to let anything go, whether it be a relationship, job, lawn mower - I just know that I can make it right! It also means that I tend to remember the pleasant events more than the sad ones. 

Tonight, I'm going to share my memories of Matt Elliott. He's been in my mind a lot lately. His birthday and the five year anniversary of this death were last month. And his beloved Cubs won the World Series this week! 

I first meet Matt when we were both selling beer for a craft beer distributor twenty years ago. I soon realized that Matt was everywhere. At various times since we'd met, we'd played poker together, worked across the street from each other, sat next to each other at boxing matches, attended the same concers and tended for each other’s cats.

We took turns being across from each other at various counters and bars– sometimes me waiting on Matt, sometimes Matt waiting on me – sometimes both in the same day. Most fun were the times we were sitting on the same side of the bar. Those meetings typically weren’t planned, but you always knew that Matt was good for excellent conversation and that you were sure to have at least one belly laugh and leave with a bunch of random Indianatastic facts. If the conversation involved meat or chocolate or newspapers or books or beer, all the more better.

Matt was delightfully curmudgeonly. He was well-versed in the things that caught his fancy and opinionated in things that I didn't know you could have an opinion about. If he dug his heels in the ground, there was no budging him. I finally gave up in asking him to have decaf coffee brewed in the morning at the Newsstand Café. He didn’t let differing opinions get in the way of a good conversation or friendship. In the middle of a debate, he’d throw in a charming wink.

Matt was one of those ‘all in’ guys. He didn’t do anything halfway. We swapped cat feeding chores over the years. I would dutifully feed his cat, fetch the mail and turn on lights while he was out of town and hightail it out of his house to the next thing. 

Matt would camp out at my house while I was out of town; keeping my Felix company, enjoying sleeping on my ancient sofa, exploring my stacks of books, and the adventure of living a few blocks away for the week.

For years we worked across the street from each other at 52nd Street and College Avenue. Atlas Food Market was on the same corner. After the fixtures and contents of the Market were auctioned off, Matt realized that they hadn’t sold the wooden sign from the alley side of the building. Matt plotted rescuing the sign for months, but he felt the time was never quite right – which drove me nuts. Matt was deliberate and thoughtful about projects, a right–tool-for-the-right-job type of guy. I’m a dive in and pound-nails-in-the-wall-with-the-heels-of-my-cowboy-boots sort of woman. 

One evening, after yet another conversation about the sign, I excused myself, drove around the corner, parked next to the building, hopped in the back of my truck, and crowbar’ed the sign down. Ten minutes later I returned to report that the sign was ready to deliver to his house. It is now on the wall of Twenty Tap, across the street from where Atlas used to sit. 

Matt always dressed for the occasion, typically in a suit. This photo is from my 50th birthday party, Matt is in the middle, Chad Mills on the left and John Newton on the right - more great friends I've made since I moved into Chez Pez.

Matt was always among the last to leave my St. Valentine's Day parties. He was great at keeping the conversation going and people entertained. Throughout the years he helped push Tammy's Jeep out of the snow, hauled beer off my porch into the bathtub so it wouldn't freeze, and was all around helpful. 

Matt was a charming escort. And not just because he owned a tuxedo. I dragged him to various fancy fundraisers over the years and he could always make me feel comfortable. I tended to wig out over those events – and convince myself that I don’t belong and I’m not wearing the right dress – you get the picture. By the time Matt and I figured out who’s vehicle could actually hold a passenger (we’re both notorious messy car folks), who’s car was mechanically sound enough to get us downtown, and if we had enough cash to park the car and tip the bartender, I was a mess.   

My very favorite Matt memory comes from one of those nights. I was feeling especially tense. I’d already spent $300 on tickets, purchased a fancy dress, and was missing my Red Key shift so I wasn't making money. I was feeling particularly poor and out of place. 

There was wine on the tables, but I’m not a wine drinker – wine tends to make my face red and my mood morose – not something you want when you’re already feeling weird and out of place. Matt excused himself, walked to the bar across the street and sauntered back to the gala with a glass of my favorite whiskey. A man at the table remarked, “Wow, he must really love you.”

Matt really loved all of his friends and would go out of his way to make sure they were comfortable and had exactly what they needed. Except for decaf coffee, maybe.

I did love and admire Matt. After spending time with him my heart always felt full -- from the gratitude of living in a community that allows you to meet folks like Matt, and the joy of making strong grown-up friendships.  

You are missed my friend.