Monday, April 6, 2009
I have just learned that I will become a great-grand-aunt for the eighth time come October. Carl Sandburg said, “A baby is God’s opinion that the world should go on.”
Ohboyohboyohboyohboy!
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Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Mom used to make Spanish Rice with pork links baked on top of the rice. It was really good. This afternoon I decided to do something similar. “Betty, this is my mom. Mom, this is Betty Crocker.”
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Monday, March 30, 2009
It looks like I’m still playing catch up with the month of March. I have added a couple more cooking bits, one about pot roast and hash; the other about the making of some mushroom soup.
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Friday, March 27, 2009
Happy birthday, Barbara — the other one of us! You’re one step closer to Medicare!
Since I was on the other end of town from where I live, and not very far from the Ukrainian Gift Shop, I made a stop there to purchase egg decorating supplies – dyes. It is past time for me to get at that task. Yikes! I have a demonstration to do next weekend.
Tonight was when things got interesting at my house. I liketa dyed!
I was going to dye some eggs in preparation for the decorating and had decided to make a large jar of dye, making it possible to dye several eggs at one time. To that end, I fetched a couple of one-quart canning jars. I put one package of dye in the jar and stirred in the boiling water. I added the vinegar and the rest of the water and was stirring it when blue dye suddenly spewed from the bottom of the jar and made a big puddle on my kitchen floor. A piece of glass about the size of a quarter had popped from the jar and the river ran blue!
I picked up the jar and moved it quickly to the sink then hollered for Rob to come help. I needed him to get rags from the basement, muy pronto. I wet some of them and started wiping up the dye. He started wiping the dye. It was freakin’ everywhere, including on my pants, stockinged feet, and the woodwork! I could only think to dilute it and get it up as fast as I could. I think using wet cloths first was a good idea. It took about 20 minutes before we got it cleaned up. I’m thinking that we were lucky it didn’t get on any painted surfaces. As I was finishing the clean up, I realized that I had used only one packet of the dye powder and twice the amount of water — the solution was not as strong as it might have been!
I ran the cloths through a couple of clear water cycles in the washer and then through a regular wash cycle with detergent. Viola! It appears to have washed out of everything! Saints preserve us! It could have been a disaster and instead was just a nuisance.
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Sunday, March 22, 2009
Happy Birthday, Sandra! I love you!
Yesterday afternoon I said a final good-bye to a dear woman I’ve know for 45 years. It was a bittersweet time for me. I took with me a painting she made thinking her children might like to display it with other examples of her arts and was pleased that they were pleased to do that. Rob helped me get the plates of cookies and nut bread safely into the car. It was a beautiful day and I took my time on the 30-mile drive from our home to the church where her service was held, some hymns on my iPod accompanying me. I love church hymns—music is what I missed most about church during those many years I didn’t go. And I really like that the hymns in the Lutheran church vary from week to week. Not so much in the Orthodox churches I grew up in.
My car’s navigation system was spot on in its estimate of how long it would take for me to drive to the church and I arrived with about 20 minutes to spare. Carefully balancing the cookies and quick bread and managing the tote bag that contained one of Mrs. B’s paintings, I made it without incident to the church door where I was greeted by Mrs. B’s family. Her son quickly took the plates from me for a moment and then her granddaughter and I took them to the church kitchen. The Church Basement Ladies thought it was pretty nice that I’d made a couple of Mrs. B’s recipes to share at her dead spread after the service. Mrs. B’s kids thought so, too. If I could nail her Divinity recipe, I’d be gold!
I didn’t have much opportunity to chat with Mrs. B’s children (friends from my high school years). Her son lives on the east coast and her daughter lives about an hour and a half from me and, while that is not an impossible distance to travel for a visit, it is far enough away to make frequent contact into infrequent contact. In the last four years I have seen her four times and three of them were at family funerals. Not good. My relationship with her is one that I want to keep in good repair; she is witty and of good humor and one of the smartest people I know; I have always appreciated her insights and analyses of anything we might discuss when we are together.
There were perhaps 25 people who came to pay their respects to her family – and I think most of them are family. I wonder how many have seen each other since the last funeral. We slide into routines that often don’t leave much time for departures from the schedule. Then someone dies and we somehow make the time to attend a funeral event. We attend a service, see friends and family not seen for years and say to each other, “Why does it have to take a funeral to get us together?” Why, indeed? Her daughter played the organ that day and it was a lovely service — we sang all the verses of four hymns and her son-in-law sang a solo.
I sat at table with Mrs. B’s grandchildren — what nice people they are! I told stories of my teen-age years’ involvement with their dad and aunt – her daughter was able to explain how it was that I rode in their school’s homecoming parade one year; I had forgotten how it happened. We had a good laugh over it.
I brought home a rose from a flower bouquet and as I’ve walked past it countless times each day, I’ve thought about her and remembered her affection for me. Really, how lucky can a girl be?
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Friday, March 20, 2009
The memorial service for my friend is going to be tomorrow afternoon at a Lutheran church on the other end of the city from where I live. I have decided that I am going to bring something for the reception that will follow the service. I have to show them that I, too, am a church basement lady. When I put Mrs. B’s name into the search window for my recipe software, her name came up three times. I had forgotten about her sugar cookies recipe! Depending on how much energy I have later this evening (Becky and her family are coming tonight for a quick visit), I may make some of those, too. I thought about making her Divinity – for about four seconds – and decided there was no need to make a fool of myself in the midst of a bunch of people I mostly will not know.
Before coming across the sugar cookie recipe I made a recipe of her apricot nut bread. Oh, Mrs. B, please forgive me! I bought those wretched Turkish apricots for the bread. They are utterly devoid of apricot flavor. I am so mad I could spit. I will try to rescue the bread by buttering some of the slices with some butter that has apricot butter mixed with it. Or maybe a cream cheese spread that includes some apricot butter. And I just looked at the recipe again and realize that I left out the salt. Damn! That would be one reason the bread tastes so flat. Dangitall!
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Monday, March 16, 2009
I am so sad. I received an email message this afternoon informing me of the passing of a woman who has held a special place in my heart for 45 years. I wrote this in September, 2005, after my last in-person visit with her:
September 17, 2005
I went up yesterday to visit a very special woman who now lives outside St. Cloud. Her name is Edna, but I would never dare to call her that. It wouldn't be proper. I call her Mrs. B. She lost her husband of more than sixty years in May. They are the parents of two old friends with whom I don't have frequent contact. Oddly, I am more in touch with her son-in-law. He frequently sends me jokes via e-mail and I speak with him via phone maybe once or twice a year. And when I do I always ask how "the folks" are doing. And he tells me that they're doing about as well as one could expect given their ages, 91 and 90. That they are getting forgetful, but manage together. And then I always say that I must get up to see them "before it's too late." I just never got off the dime and made the visit and on May 8, 2005, it became "too late." Mr. B died. His son, in informing me of his dad's passing, said that he had joined the celestial choir. It took me a moment to understand the message—that his dad had died. And then I learned that if he hadn't notified me, his sister had decided to pass on it, not sure if I would want to be notified of such an event. I don't hold it against her, that's for sure. She – they – didn't realize what "the folks" meant to me in spite of my inattentiveness to the relationship. We got clear, though, about such notification when their mom passes (not soon, I hope).
I was really upset to hear the news of his death. I hadn't seen either of them in several years but I was flooded with tender memories as I read the e-mail notification. These wonderful folks loved me for no other reason than that I existed. There were never any strings attached to their affection for me. Mr. B had a warm smile and quiet way about him and he always welcomed me (and later my own family) into the family's home. He was always just so darned cordial!
Mrs. B was magic. She is Irish and her now-grey hair was once red hair that matched, I'm told, her temper. I never saw that side of her but don't question that it was. (Lots of people think I'm a lot nicer than what some see of me.)
She could produce wonderful treats and delicious meals without prior notice. She made a canned pear half on a lettuce leaf into something delicious and pretty besides -- just mix a little of that pear juice with some mayo and drizzle it over the pear on the lettuce leaf. It was fancy. Her freezer harbored cookies and other treats. I remember a dessert that involved crushed Oreo cookies and a filling that required boiling a sugar syrup to a long thread. More than once was I the lucky, lucky recipient of her divine Divinity candy. The recipe says to beat it and just before it dulls, drop it by spoonsful onto waxed paper. Read that again. I think I made it successfully once. She, too, liked a touch of almond extract in it.
She gave me this Apricot Nut Bread recipe maybe forty years ago:
Edna B.'s Apricot Nut Bread
1 cup dried apricots
1 cup sugar
2 tbsp soft butter
1 egg
1/4 cup water
1/2 cup orange juice
2 cups flour
2 tsp baking powder
1/4-1/2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup chopped walnuts
Cover the apricots with hot water and soak 30 minutes. Drain and cut with scissors. Cream butter and sugar; add egg. Add water and orange juice. Sift dry ingredients together and add. Blend in the nuts and apricots. Pour into a greased 9x5x3 pan and let stand 20 minutes. Bake for 55-65 minutes in a preheated 350 degree oven.
Makes 12 slices at least.
Note: I've made a little change: I now chop the aps in the food processor and then cover them with boiling water to stand for 30 minutes.
She was a seamstress who worked magic with fabric and with a needle and thread when she did hardanger needlework. Her children are also clever with their hands – I'll have to ask if that came all from their mom or if their father contributed to their skills and artistry, too. As a senior citizen she took up painting and I treasure a lovely small painting she gave to me. She learned to do the Norwegian rosemaling, too.
I remember receiving a beautifully soft green wool skirt one year - I don't remember if I was in high school or if it was after graduation. And it fit. Good eye, Mrs. B! For my high school graduation she gave me a pretty shift dress – it was the style of the time – with blue and turquoise flowers on it. I can see it in my mind's eye as clearly as if it were given me yesterday. I wasn't used to custom-made clothing for the likes of me and I'm sure I didn't adequately express my thanks for their consideration.
She doted on me. That's the only way to describe it. And I basked in her affection. I received birthday cards and Christmas cards for many years from them and at least once Rob and I and our kids visited when their son and his family were in town. Their kindness, generosity, and affection put me so at ease with them.
Mr. B is gone now and she is ninety years old and has Alzheimer's Disease. At his funeral I didn't have much opportunity to visit with her and I'm not sure I would have been able to say much besides; I was too embarrassed by my neglect of these fine, fine people.
Their children assured me that it was "okay" that I hadn't seen them. That didn't help my sadness and guilt much, though.
I've been thinking about visiting Mrs. B ever since mid-May. What's the Nike slogan? "Just do it!" Just do it!
After consultation with their daughter, I gathered some of Becky's scrapbook layouts and the book she made for me – lots of pictures of me and my family. Marce said I would have a lovely visit with her — and she wouldn't remember it after I left because she doesn't make new memories.
I arrived at the nursing home (actually Marcie took me to her room, but didn't visit that day) and knocked lightly on the open door. I could see that she was in a chair reading. Her face lit up when she saw me and I was greeted with her chirpy "Well, isn't this a wonderful surprise!" Just as she would have welcomed me forty years ago. We talked about my family and I proudly showed off pictures of husband, children, and my vnuchka. She was full of compliments, as always. She asked if I was in touch with her children and she was pleased when I said that I was (I fudged that a bit but don't believe it will be held against me). And she wanted to know how it was that I knew her family. And then we looked at some more of the pictures I brought. And she asked if I had much contact with her kids. And how is it again that I know her and her family? And I told her about my ribbons at the Fair and we looked at some more pictures and talked about them. As ever, she was flattering about my kids' and Rob's accomplishments and said that the children surely must take after their mom. (Shh, don't tell Rob, ok?). And do I keep in touch with her kids? And how is it that I'm acquainted with her family? I didn't mind the same questions for every time I answered I was reminded again of the affection we shared.
I wonder if we don't get annoyed by the same repeated questions by our loved ones because we know, somewhere in the depths of our psyches, that that repeat of the same question recently answered is a glaring sign of forgetfulness – and a vivid reminder of one aging, maybe someone whose aging we can hardly bear the thought of because death is at the end of that aging process and how on earth will we get on without them in our life? I wonder.
At her husband's funeral the pastor spoke of their long marriage and used the phrase, "love never dies" several times and that's how it felt today. I'm glad I won't be haunted by "I should have" and "if only."
I might not be done with this – I'm still thinking about it all. And how lucky, how blessed I am to be loved by this woman.
Thanks for looking. I'll post a picture or two of us when I get around to it. (OK, here they are. Isn't she just the cutest?)
"Love you lots, Mrs. B.," I told her. She loves me back. I knew she does.
She was 94 years old on February 12. My heart goes out to her two remaining children. Since May, 2005, they have mourned the deaths of their father, their sister, and now their mom. That’s a lot of loss in not a long time.
I will remember her kindnesses to me and to my family all the rest of my days. Alex rest your soul, Mrs. B., Alex rest your soul.
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Monday, March 16, 2009
If one post on the binary food group led me to making halushky, another on the same group prompted a pot pie for dinner tonight. There’s still some white meat left for yet another meal. That will make three meals from that bird. It served us well.
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Friday, March 13, 2009
A conversation taking place on a binary newsgroup I read spurred me to make halushky for dinner tonight. They were the perfect accompaniment for my short ribs.
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Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I’m still playing catch-up! Here are a couple pictures of my stir-fried vegetables atop some boiled and panfried noodles from one of the Asian markets near us.
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Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Updated Friday, March 6, 2009
Maybe I’ll finish telling of Sam’s visit this time! Babi’s kitchen was a busy place that Saturday a month ago. We started our day with some Raspberry White Chocolate Muffins. This is a recipe I made up, adapting it from something else, I’m sure. After the muffins, we finished decorating our valentine cookies, this time with some frosting and more sprinkles. Later in the day we made chow mein, the Minnesota Mooshy version, yet another of my culinary specialties.
And on Sunday we returned her to her mother’s loving arms.
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Monday, March 2, 2009
Did you remember to say “White rabbit!!” first thing yesterday morning?
I’m still writing about Sam’s visit a month ago. Friday’s adventures are here.
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