Motion Potion

Remnants of the past linger. Tucked away on a shelf, stashed for safekeeping in a box. A t-shirt, a photo, a poem. Not that we would be any different if these physical artifacts were to disappear. At least, for some, like an unused muscle, the memory is encrypted. Like a computer chip, no matter how many times you try to delete something, the bytes of our past remain intact.

Forever the same, no matter how distant. But they remain. Some bring a smile, some a tear. Sometimes both.

And so I try to clean out the closets of time. To make room for what’s to come. And so often, these objects move from the discard pile right back into the keeper pile. Like a vine clinging to a tree—what’s the harm if it can exist symbiotically – if not symbolically?

Would it make a difference if it all disappeared? No. In my brain, in my heart, I will always remember. And hopefully, smile.

Why I haven’t baked Zucchini Bread since 1994…or, don’t ever leave the house with the oven on

Yesterday I was reading a friend’s blog, including fabulous pictures of the most wonderful looking zucchini bread I’ve seen in a long time….*sigh*. It caused me to reminisce about zucchini breads I’ve baked and loved.

So the local power company was ‘upgrading’ infrastructure. Meaning: for 9 months (yes, I could have given birth…) they dug and drilled (from 10 PM till 4 AM I must add) – right outside my window. I often went downstairs at about 2 AM and offered them a cup of coffee.

Not to digress….a few stormy days in the middle of this adventure, and the hole they left uncovered collected rainwater, which in retrospect, I should have bailed out and used to wash my hair, haha.

So I’ve got a lovely zucchini bread baking in the oven, and decide to run down to the basement, for 30 seconds to dump some garbage. Yeah, right. I get in the elevator and the moment the elevator door closes and it starts its descent – lights flash and go out, full stop. I’m stuck.

It was dark. Very dark. But I managed to hit the emergency button (a pure stroke of genius, don’t you think?). Lean on it till the leftover juice runs out. But as luck would have it, my neighbor comes out, and I hear her calling my name. I call back. Where are you she says. In the elevator I answer. Crap.

Good neighbor walks down 6 flights in pitch black to get super, who walks up 6 flights to ask if I’m ok. Yes, I squeak. 911 is called and while we wait for some of NY’s finest to come & help rescue me, we chatter. Yes, I’m really ok, I say. But can you do me a favor? Anything they respond.

Now I have to admit I’ve got something in the oven. I know, I know – didn’t your mother ever tell you always to check that the oven is off before you go out?

Deep breath, then I say, could you turn my oven off – and take the zucchini bread out? Silence. I tell them I don’t want to burn the house down, on top of being stuck in the elevator. So they walk down again to get my spare key, and yes, up again.

All’s well that ends well, an hour later I’m free and we celebrate my release with a feast of warm zucchini bread. It was delish, I have to confess.

But I learned a couple of valuable things that day. I’m not afraid to get stuck in an elevator (as long as I’m alone & don’t have to calm anyone else down but myself). And don’t ever leave the house before turning off the oven.

And I know – someday – I’ll be ready to bake zucchini bread again.