Spiders, Betty Crocker, and why things can’t be counted on to work as they once did
I didn’t mean to paint over the spider so it’s no use calling the Endangered Spider Society but the unexpected addition of the eight-legged creature did give my picture a nice three-dimensional textured look.
My still life must have been more realistic than I had imagined because I didn’t see the small black spider resting under the bowl of apples and oranges when I stroked across it with a brushful of very sticky cerulean blue. I didn’t catch sight of my visitor until too late. He was stuck to the canvas. The effect was so good that I entered the spider painting in an exhibit. Spider with Fruit, it was called, or maybe Fruit with Spider. It was very popular, but the tiny spider immediately dried up and blew off the canvas. Finally, I spray painted the spider gold and stuck it in place, and the painting sold for a very encouraging price.
Of course, that was some years ago. It turned out I couldn’t make a living painting and I had to learn something else, but it is an indication of how important it is to adapt to new circumstances. I don’t think the spider found it as encouraging as I did.
Doctors tell us that learning something new and challenging is a good step for memory retention. The new language that many seniors are choosing to learn is the language of computers. People 65 and older are the fastest growing group learning to use the internet.
I have even become a certified Zoom presenter, but I don’t learn very fast. Yesterday, as I prepared to preside over a virtual program, the sound wouldn’t work. I tried every trick known to the Zoom world and became nervous as the crowd was in the waiting room. Finally Gina, the producer asked, “Did you check to see that the computer sound is turned on?” I’ve got to admit I was pretty snitty (that’s an “n”). “How dumb do you think I am?” A dangerous question at any time because I had turned the sound off to kill a commercial — and forgotten.
Something will always go wrong. Don’t be surprised. Just keep learning.
It seems that none of the things we depend on can be counted on to work as they once did. Take Betty Crocker, for instance. She sent me an email only last week with a recipe she said I would love. She was mistaken. It lies at the bottom of the crock pot, gelatinous and tasting of motor oil. I’d throw it away but it seems to be alive.
Of course I know Betty Crocker isn’t a real person, but she’s been a big part of my life anyway. Betty and I have been companions since I was a little girl when her picture was unaccountably on the wall of the General Store. Red dress, white collar, looking very competent. Nobody wore a dress in Warland, Montana, and if there was cooking going on, I never saw it, certainly not at our house.
My Mom was hardly out of her teens. In the winter she was outdoors skiing, since it wasn’t much colder outdoors than in. In summer she liked to climb to the top of the railroad water tower for a good look around.
It was terribly hard to cook on the balky wood stove anyway. Once she did try to bake a birthday cake for her cousin, Eddie. It emerged from the oven paving stone hard. No baking powder, I guess. She ran out of the house crying and threw the paving stone cake into the Kootenai River.
But Betty Crocker’s pictures were still in the General Store. The message was clear. Mothers skied and climbed; Betty Crocker cooked. In eighth-grade home economics class, Betty’s was the face I looked up to, framed on the classroom wall, sort of like the picture of the Pope in Catholic schools. I certainly thought she was real.
By the time I got married, I could cook two dishes — scalloped potatoes, and not scalloped potatoes. If I had a can opener, I could do Campbell’s soups. And Spam.
This week marks a full year since I’ve welcomed friends and even family members into the house. I’ve had my first vaccination. “Masks all the time, Mom. Promise!” says my daughter, the nurse.
Being alone gives me time to try new things. I don’t paint as much as I did. Arthritis gets in the way. Still Degas created his most brilliant paintings when he was losing his sight. I’ll try something different. The spiders are pretty safe though. I’m just not as fast as they are.
Where to find Dorothy
9 a.m. March 8 and 22: Zoom Coffee Chat and Change the World. A fast hour of resources, ideas and fun. Register at https://mygenerationgap.com. Email questions to Dorothy@mygenerationgap.com
Also, catch Dorothy’s podcast, Swimming Upstream radio show, at https://itsnevertoolate.com.
Contact Dorothy at 800-548-9264 or Dorothy@itsnevertoolate.com.
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