Well, that's not true. I used to not cook.
Here's the story.
When I met my boyfriend a while back I told him I didn't cook. It was true. Fortunately it wasn't a deal breaker. But he asked "Did you ever cook?"
Did I ever cook?
For several decades I cooked daily. I made large inexpensive meals, enough to serve ten people because I didn't know exactly who would be there for dinner. I, literally, knew by heart 25 ways to prepare chicken and ground beef. Some of my family's favorite dinners were
Knockwurst, sauerkraut and mashed potatoes
Porkchops and rice (a casserole with the porkchops on top dripping all of the pork fat into the rice and other ingredients)
Corned beef hash baked with eggs (10) nestled in little valleys.
And always lots of fruits and veggies. Whatever was on sale.
After these nightly dinners there were left overs that were carefully covered and refrigerated. But most times, when I awaken early the next morning they were gone.
I bought bananas each week. The speckled brown ones were put in the freezer where they turned black but were just perfect for making loaves of banana bread.
Six Week Bran Muffins were a semi liquid concoction kept in the frig for making bran muffins in a hurry. Three or two dozen.
On laundry day I baked bread. We let it rise on the warm dryer.
By the time my # 1 daughter was eight years old she was writing out the menus for dinner parties.
A friend of mine told me one day that her mother had quit cooking. I remember not really comprehending how that would be possible.
But then, about eight years ago my life was so stressful that I knew something had to give.
I QUIT COOKING.
And the world did not come to an end. Adjustments were made.
And now things have changed. Tonight my boyfriend and I are having a little dinner party.
I'm cooking.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
I Though We Could Save the World
When I was a young adult the country was ready to burst. Voices were shouting. Women, African Americans, war protesters, the hungry and homeless were demanding to be heard.
My Real Husband and I thought we could save the world.
Not only that but we decided we would start a whole new family - a new nation. We would be Sarah and Abraham.
We thought we could save the world.
And in some small ways we did. But mostly we were the ones who were saved.
Today I'm just trying to keep my little place at the table clean.
My Real Husband and I thought we could save the world.
Not only that but we decided we would start a whole new family - a new nation. We would be Sarah and Abraham.
We thought we could save the world.
And in some small ways we did. But mostly we were the ones who were saved.
Today I'm just trying to keep my little place at the table clean.
No Sweat
I don't perspire. This is a good thing because I can work out at the gym and not have to take a shower.
On the other hand, I live in the sub tropics and I have no internal means of cooling off.
The worst thing is that people don't believe me.
When I was growing up my aunt finally quit making me pick vegetables in the hot sun because she got tired of the fainting.
After I was diagnosed and tried to explain the problem the usual reply was "Everybody sweats."
The fact is, there are people who have very few or no sweat glands.
Two weeks ago I was reading a history of my Boyfriend's parents who were missionaries in Malaya. I was amazed to read the following:
"For a while she ( my Boyfriend's mom) had to stop teaching because she ran a fever constantly. A Scottish doctor declared she couldn't get acclimated to the humid, tropical heat because she DIDN'T PERSPIRE. (Perspiring was the natural method for keeping comfortable, as electric fans were scarce.)"
At least I have A/C. So I'm henceforth going to try to put a positive spin on the situation.
This problem, combined with hot flashes, makes me the hottest babe in town!
On the other hand, I live in the sub tropics and I have no internal means of cooling off.
The worst thing is that people don't believe me.
When I was growing up my aunt finally quit making me pick vegetables in the hot sun because she got tired of the fainting.
After I was diagnosed and tried to explain the problem the usual reply was "Everybody sweats."
The fact is, there are people who have very few or no sweat glands.
Two weeks ago I was reading a history of my Boyfriend's parents who were missionaries in Malaya. I was amazed to read the following:
"For a while she ( my Boyfriend's mom) had to stop teaching because she ran a fever constantly. A Scottish doctor declared she couldn't get acclimated to the humid, tropical heat because she DIDN'T PERSPIRE. (Perspiring was the natural method for keeping comfortable, as electric fans were scarce.)"
At least I have A/C. So I'm henceforth going to try to put a positive spin on the situation.
This problem, combined with hot flashes, makes me the hottest babe in town!
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
My Best Work
I had four babies - and I had them early on.
Lots of other things were happening in the country and the world - things that I felt passionately about.
I used to think "When I get rid of these kids I'm going to excel in important writing, work and causes."
And I did.
But, looking back, nothing, and I mean NOTHING compares to raising my children and launching them into the world.
They will be the legacy.
Lots of other things were happening in the country and the world - things that I felt passionately about.
I used to think "When I get rid of these kids I'm going to excel in important writing, work and causes."
And I did.
But, looking back, nothing, and I mean NOTHING compares to raising my children and launching them into the world.
They will be the legacy.
Dear Abby
My boyfriend plays golf. He started when he was twelve years old.
He remembers the first tee of every golf course he played on his high school golf team. He can describe them.
He played golf in college and for the army.
When I read in his golf club's magazine that he's made four holes in one - at that particular club - I said,
"You must be a good golfer."
He said, "I used to be."
He's playing golf right now.
My question is this: I'm already a widow. If we should marry do I just add the word "Golf?"
He remembers the first tee of every golf course he played on his high school golf team. He can describe them.
He played golf in college and for the army.
When I read in his golf club's magazine that he's made four holes in one - at that particular club - I said,
"You must be a good golfer."
He said, "I used to be."
He's playing golf right now.
My question is this: I'm already a widow. If we should marry do I just add the word "Golf?"
King of the Cowboys
My mother died when she was 34 years old. Prior to that she was in a T.B. sanitarium for several years. My little brother and I visited her once a month. We couldn't touch her. This was just before the widely accepted use of penicillin and other antibiotics. The way patients were routinely treated was to separate them from society.
Every year Roy Rogers came to the sanitarium. He visited with the patients inside the sanitarium. In the afternoon he performed for the families. But more than that he talked with us. He let us pet Trigger.
Even after he became world famous he continued to make his annual visits to the sanitarium.
In the mid 1990s, fifty years after my mother's death, a man came to our home seeking my Real Husband's counsel. This strange man was an entertainer. In fact, he was a successful Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas.
One evening, after their session, I was trying to make small talk with the person who seemed very different from me. I told him about my experience with Roy Rogers.
A few weeks later there was a knock on my door. There he was with a brown envelope in his outstretched hand. As it turns out he had made an arduous trip from Las Vegas to the Roy Rogers ranch in order to bring me a gift. Inside the envelope were pictures of Roy, Trigger and Dale. They were all signed but one in particular warmed me. It was inscribed with my name (an unusual one) and beneath that it said, "Happy Trails to You, Roy."
Now I'm not naive enough to think that Roy Rogers actually signed the photos. He was old and ill by then. But maybe he did!
The remarkable thing to me in this story is that the Elvis Impersonator listened to my story and did a kind thing.
I never saw him again.
But if he's by any chance reading this let me just give him this personal message:
Happy Trails to You, Elvis!
Every year Roy Rogers came to the sanitarium. He visited with the patients inside the sanitarium. In the afternoon he performed for the families. But more than that he talked with us. He let us pet Trigger.
Even after he became world famous he continued to make his annual visits to the sanitarium.
In the mid 1990s, fifty years after my mother's death, a man came to our home seeking my Real Husband's counsel. This strange man was an entertainer. In fact, he was a successful Elvis impersonator in Las Vegas.
One evening, after their session, I was trying to make small talk with the person who seemed very different from me. I told him about my experience with Roy Rogers.
A few weeks later there was a knock on my door. There he was with a brown envelope in his outstretched hand. As it turns out he had made an arduous trip from Las Vegas to the Roy Rogers ranch in order to bring me a gift. Inside the envelope were pictures of Roy, Trigger and Dale. They were all signed but one in particular warmed me. It was inscribed with my name (an unusual one) and beneath that it said, "Happy Trails to You, Roy."
Now I'm not naive enough to think that Roy Rogers actually signed the photos. He was old and ill by then. But maybe he did!
The remarkable thing to me in this story is that the Elvis Impersonator listened to my story and did a kind thing.
I never saw him again.
But if he's by any chance reading this let me just give him this personal message:
Happy Trails to You, Elvis!
The Worst Advice
The worst advice I received from a well meaning person after my husband died was this:
"Don't worry, your friends' husbands' will start to die soon and then you can spend more time together so you won't be lonely."
The thing is my friend's husband did die suddenly a year or so later. He was my friend too.
No matter how I spun it, it didn't feel good.
"Don't worry, your friends' husbands' will start to die soon and then you can spend more time together so you won't be lonely."
The thing is my friend's husband did die suddenly a year or so later. He was my friend too.
No matter how I spun it, it didn't feel good.
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