Sobremesa, Not Just for Mother's Day

I found a new word today remarkably close to Mother's Day and very reminiscent of my mother, this my second Mother's Day without her.

Sombremesa. It's a Spanish word that literally means "upon the table," however, it's often used to refer to the tradition of staying for a bit after a meal to relax and enjoy conversation.

Towards the end of her life, my mother confessed that she longed to just sit at the table after a meal and relax. She yearned for Sombremesa. But we were all in such a hurry. And being the type who wanted us to read her mind, Mom didn't tell us her wishes. Also, she thought she didn't deserve to have her wishes granted... or even acknowledged.

By the age of 81 she worked up the courage to tell me this one desire, to spend time relaxing at the table after the meal she worked so hard to create and serve.

It angers me that she didn't feel worthy enough to express her desires. It bothers me that we accepted it. It frustrates me that my efforts to free her from her self-imposed self-denial were rebuffed every single time.

As Mother's Day approaches, I think about Sombremesa and focus on the memories from when we did, in fact, relax around the table at the end of a meal. Goofing around swirling our fingertips around the mouth of mom's crystal glasses, listening for the choral sound she promised. Listening to mom's adult "grandkids" admit the shenanigans they pulled off in their youth. Mom acting shocked they would commit such dastardly deeds. Comparing college exploits and pranks from the "old neighborhood" in upstate New York. 

On this Mother's Day, I'm thankful for the beautiful table my mother set, for the mouth-watering food she prepared with so much love and mostly? For the Sombremesa.

Otter Falls, NC

Otter Falls

825 Skyland Dr. Seven Devils, NC

I left my family twenty feet below me in the bottom of a gorge, "rock climbing" (a child's version) at the foot of Otter Falls, perilously climbing from boulder to boulder, the youngest swaying in the crest of a backpack, riding his daddy's back.

It was raining one of those quick mountain downpours that drench you to the bone and abruptly leave while you wipe the drips out of your eyes, wring your hair out and furiously wipe off your phone.

I was focused on the climb out. Watching the kids frolic so close to the edge of death wasn't my thing. I mean, I'm glad they do it, they have to grow up tough and experience nature, but I don't have to watch. 

The hike down is less than a mile, not bad. Great path. The hike back out is steep. One water per person is enough in the spring, maybe two in the heat of Summer. Take a backpack picnic and enjoy the stay. Take a fishing pole if you're so inclined. Take water shoes, wear hiking boots.

Parking is minimum in the parking lot. There is some parking along the road. They say go in the morning to avoid the rush. I say go in the late afternoon to avoid the rush. Go in the rain, even better.

Great family hike.  Within miles of Grandfather Mountain. Grandfather Mountain Travel Ideas

Tulip Farm Near Charlotte NC

The Pops and I went rotating again and ended up in a tulip field in the Carolina Slate Belt of the Piedmont Plateau of North Carolina, just a 40 minute drive northwest of Charlotte.

Patterson Farm Market & Tours

10390 Caldwell Rd.

Mount Ulla, NC

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VisitPattersonFarm.com

It was a cool late-March morning dangerously close to tulip season's end, after the great rains and tornado threats went through when we finally got the chance to get out rotating.

We drove North out of the city of 950,000, crossed Rocky River, took a slight left at Concord, crossed Irish Buffalo Creek just below it's headwaters and inched our way over Kerr Creek, slowing down to take the left into Patterson's. 

Patterson's has a market we browsed with a clerk we knew 30 years ago. We reminisced a bit then drove my 86 year old father closer to the Tulip gardens. 

I paid the $5 entry while the Pops got settled on a bench in the sun. I looped a wicker basket over my arm, twirled the cutters in my fingers and tip-toed through the tulips. You knew I'd have to say that sometime.

As an Anthophile, the tulip is my favorite flower. I know, right? Anthophile! Google it.

My fave would be the Estella Rijnveld tulip because 1. Anna Pavord, in her raging best-seller The Tulip, says it "looks like raspberry ripple ice-cream" which I love, and 2. Online it is described as having a "whirling dervish intensity," which is SO me.  (My X bio includes "artist, vagabond, whirling dervish...")

I consulted the Hortus Bulborium to find that while tulips date back to the 16th century, they Had a magnificent comeback in the Dutch Tulipomania of the 1630s. Tulipomania! I know, right? I'm in Heaven.

One last significant thought. In 1920, brown tulips were in fashion. The Dom Pedro grew in fame due to its coloring. I'd like me a Dom Pedro tulip on account of it reminds me of the steak burrito at Don Pedro's. 

The tulips I planted six years ago bloomed a few years and quit, to my great dismay. But I just learned that I should dig up the bulbs in Summer and store them in a dark cool place, replanting them in late Fall. AND because it's so hot here, I should put the bulbs in the fridge 8 weeks before replanting. They love that! So when you come over for a Fall picnic, be careful what you eat out of my fridge. I'm just sayin'.

Back to today and my fresh cut tulips from Patterson's. I found out that they will last a lot longer if I do one of the following:  toss a little vodka in the vase, put ice cubes in the vase, OR put a copper (pre 1982) penny in the vase.  And this is just my thought here, if you put a penny in the vase, make a wish as you toss it in.

Best Homemade Cheesebread and Cinnamon Rolls

So I crossed the churning Catawba again after a month of rain to spend some time with the Pops. My sister and brother-in-law were out of town again leaving dad unattended and I thought it was a good time to step in and get into some mischief, as we are prone to do.

After popping in to various classes in the Healing Arts program at Levine Cancer Institute which is a fantastic program, I focused all my attention on dad. A trip to Sam's, Dutch Blitz at my brother's, cleaning dad's house, that sort of thing.

Suddenly, we had the brilliant idea to bake some bread. It was chilly out and the smell of bread rising and baking would be out of this world.

We stuck some cheese in the bread before baking and made cheese bread. Then I had some leftover dough so we made some cinnamon rolls. It all turned out SO good! And just in time for my brother to stop by for lunch.

And you probably guessed it by now..... a surprise visit from Cousin David.

This recipe makes enough dough for both projects.

1/2 c milk

3 Tbsp. butter

3 Tbsp. sugar

2 tsp. salt

2 pkgs yeast

1 1/2 c warm water

5 1/2 c bread flour

Scald milk and butter, then cool in fridge for a few minutes. Add sugar and salt.

In a large bowl, put yeast and warm water, mix well. Then stir in your milk mixture. Add flour. Knead well and let rise until nearly double in size, maybe an hour.

Divide dough in half.

With one half, make the cheesebread:

Roll dough out into a rectangle. Place in a casserole type pan with half the dough hanging over the edge outside the pan. Cover the half that's inside the pan liberally with shredded cheddar cheese (maybe 12 or 16 oz bar of cheddar cheese). Fold other half over cheesy half and seal the edges.

Let rise again for about an hour.  Bake at 400 degrees for 20 minutes. Let it cool a bit before cutting into it or the cheese will melt all over the place.

Cinnamon Rolls

Using the other half of your dough, roll out into a rectangle.  Spread a melted stick of butter over the dough.  Spread sugar and cinnamon to your preference over the butter.  I used a half container of cinnamon and maybe 1 c sugar.

Roll the dough into a log.  Cut into slices. Place slices on a baking sheet or casserole dish. Bake at 350 for 20 - 30 minutes. Check them and remove them when the tops start to brown.

Enjoy!  (Cousin David did)

Work Snacks, Changes and Links to So Many Memories

Being a stay-at-home mom, I never pursued a career as a vocation (“a person's employment or main occupation, especially regarded as particularly worthy and requiring great dedication.”) I ended up working a variety of temporary jobs when the kidswere in school and when we needed a little extra cash.

I loved the mixed experiences of different jobs, however, I am also a creature of routine. I would establish routines at each job, one of which regarded my snack. Looking back, I realize I established a snack at each job that I would consume daily at work and almost never consume any other time or place.  Each snack is now reminiscent of a particular place and time.

Currently, I’m in my Bazooka Joe years at Aiken Standard. That momentary sugary pink bliss that so quickly turns into jaw-exhausting, solid dense rock-like clump. And the comics and fortune in the wrapper!

I’m fond of my Jolly Rancher days at Samaritan’s Purse in Charlotte. It was a seasonal job for a few years and I would have a dish of jolly ranchers on my desk at all times for others to enjoy as well. But secretly I kept all the blue ones for myself. I remember the beautiful, uplifting music playing while we worked and this one co-worker who got all excited every. Single. Time. That Anne Wilson’s “My Jesus” came on. We would all get wound up on that song.

“… He makes a way where there ain't no way
Rises up from an empty grave
Ain't no sinner that He can't save
Let me tell you 'bout my Jesus

I worked for Jackie when she began her law firm, working just until she could find a permanent secretary (Connie) and that was my 3-Musketeers season. There was another lawyer who would visit and eat my Musketeers. So one time I saved my wrapper and filled it with a Pink Pearl eraser then resealed it with glue. Sadly, I wasn’t there the day he chose that Musketeer bar, but I get a lot of joy thinking about him opening it up in his car as he drove away. I'm weird like that.

McDonald’s was my earliest job and they invented the chicken nugget while I was working there. I had McNuggets almost every shift I worked. Also, of course, nibbling on a hot fudge sundae every time I worked the drive-thru.

When I worked for a month in Ireland, Cadbury caramel and Galaxy chocolate bars were my thing. And I toyed around with hot tea, but that was mostly for show.

Rollos were my candy of choice while working in Boone one cold Winter. I have such fond memories of driving up on the parkway for sunrise before work, then hitting it for sunset after work, Rollos tucked in the cup holder of my Jeep.

I could go on,  you know it, but enough about me….

What about the White House? Do they have snack routines that change between Presidents?  I turned to Google and to www.whitehousehistory.org/the-presidential-sweet-tooth to find out everything you need to know.

Probably the most popular is Ronald Reagan’s fascination with Jelly Beans. Many pictures of White House meetings feature a jar of jelly beans front and center. And it wasn’t just the White House. Back when he was a lowly Governor, the Herman Goelitz Candy Co sent his office a monthly shipment of jelly beans and they made him a customized jelly bean jar.  I didn’t get any customized jars for any of my snacks. I’m sad about that.

Most unusual was in 1984 when President Miguel de la Madrid of Mexico visited the White House. The executive pastry chef created cactuses out of kiwi sorbet filled with tequila-flavored mousse and decorated with pulled-sugar flowers and spines. You can’t really call that a routine though, I just threw that in here as a bonus.

The routines were as follows:  Clinton, gummies. FDR, rock candy. Carter, peanut brittle. Obama, salted caramels. (more on Obama here) (and even more here) Bush, fried pork rinds. Jefferson, ice cream. (Remember when you all screamed for ice cream?) George Washington, chocolate. (Remember when Marjorie passionately talked to herself about chocolate?)First recorded order was for 20 pounds of it in 1757. His largest was 50 pounds in 1799, three months prior to his death. Don’t you know as they recorded that information they wondered who on earth would be interested in this?

I don’t know what President Jackson’s favorite was, but one time a dairy farmer sent him a 1,400 pound brick of cheese. He let it age for two years and then invited the public to come eat it. Maybe cheese was his routine snack, but probably not after that one.

What’s your routine snack?

PS.  Read about my worst snack. Good times.

The Day Charlie Slept In

A short story by Pookie. 

Part One.

It was a bright sunny Spring day when I pulled up to Charlie and Benji's house. I always take them to school on Wednesday mornings, but this Wednesday didn't seem like every other one.

When Benji walked out alone with his lunch box in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder, it was confirmed: this was not a normal Wednesday.

Charlie was missing.

Benji's mom followed him out carrying his science fair project. "Charlie is not coming today," she announced. "She is sleeping in because we had a late night at Rebecca's baseball game." I nodded my approval.

After loading his backpack and supplies, Benji climbed up into the passenger seat of my Jeep. I shut my door and turned the ignition. I was still confused. This didn't feel right. We needed Charlie. I shook my head and whispered, "This isn't right, this doesn't feel right." Benji just stared out the window.

Feeling uneasy, I took the first turn and sped up a little. I went into the second turn and as I accelerated out the other side I realized I couldn't do this. I threw it in reverse, turned around and went the other direction. "What are you doing??!" Screamed Benji.

"Don't you feel it?" I asked. "This is not a normal day. We are not going to school without Charlie." I sped up heading East.

I parked outside Nona and Pops. "We're going to need some pocket waffles," I declared.

The bell jingled as we opened the door. "Good morning!" Nona called out. "Good morning!" Pops followed.

I was firm. We need some pocket waffles. Charlie is sleeping in today."

Charlie is sleeping in today echoed all across the town. Even the Mayor heard about it.

We climbed up in the Jeep again, pocket waffles and all, Benji's feet sticking to the floor mat where he had previously spilled pancake syrup on a different trip.

I took a hard left and headed North. The Mayor shouted behind us, "Is it true?!" I yelled out the window, "Yes! Charlie is sleeping in!"

An hour later the sun had risen to our right and our bellies were full. I hit hard on the brakes and pulled into a decent parking space. There aren't a whole lot of people at Stars and Strikes early on a weekday morning. In fact, we were the only ones.

We exchanged our shoes, picked out a ten pound ball and happily entered Lane One. Benji set up our score sheets on the computer on account of I can't operate that technology and before long, we were bowling! WE gathered more ten pound balls, one for each lane, and we proceeded to throw a ball down each lane, walking straight down to Lane Twenty and then working our way back to Lane One again. As fast as we could. Back and forth, slipping in our clownish bowling shoes.

Within ninety minutes we were worn slap out. We put in an order for fries and a coke, exchange dour shoes again and went into the video gameroom. I pulled four rolls of quarters out of my back jean pocket and we began playing. Within another sixty minutes, we had enough tickets to win a large purple hippo which Benji had to carry to the Jeep on account of my back was hurting from all the bending, throwing, pushing and pulling.

It was approaching noon, so I pulled the Jeep Southwest and put the pedal to the metal. We hummed along towards Augusta coming to a full stop at Top Golf. Leaving the hippo in the backseat, we entered Top Golf and secured us a hitting bay with a working ceiling fan and HDTV. I lounged back and propped my feet up while Benji took a few swings. I put in an order for Tres Tacos and a basket of Donut Hole-In-Ones. Eventually I took a few swings and we prepared to leave before 2:00.

The hippo was napping so we kept the radio low as we headed a little Southwest. I had one more stop to make before school would be out. Benji let out a big "Whoop!" as we pulled into the gnarly parking lot of the aging Frankie's Fun Park. I couldn't resist saying, "I feel the need..." and Benji responded, "The Need for Speed" and we high-fived. He tried to fist bump, but we grandmas still high-five.

We each got our own go-cart and revved our engines, side-by-side. The dude waved the flag and we were off. I learned a long time ago to keep my mouth shut when going fast, but young Benji hadn't learned that life lesson yet. He had his mouth wide open, laughing and screaming and then BAM! A bug flew into this mouth. His foot came off the pedal, his go-cart slowed down. Mine didn't. I took advantage and zoomed off to the finish line, securing the victory! He came limping along slowly, spitting and gagging and wiping his mouth.

"Hurry!" I yelled. "We have to go, we can't be late!" We jumped into the Jeep and drove fast and furious in a Northeast direction, mostly East.

We pulled up to his house at 4:10. As he grabbed his lunch box and backpack out of the back, I stage-whispered, "Leave the science fair project in the Jeep!" 

His mom came to the door with Charlie behind, bed-head hair sticking out, "How was school?" She asked.

Benji smiled. "Best day ever!" He turned his head and winked at me as I slid the Jeep into gear.

Part Two

It was a bright, sunny spring day when Pookie pulled up to Charlie and Benji's house. She always takes them to school on Wednesday morning, but this Wednesday didn't seem like every other one.

When Benji walked out alone with his lunch box in one hand and his backpack slung over his shoulder, his mom, Patti, knew this was not going to be a normal Wednesday. She waved good-bye and walked back into the house. She helped Oliver get dressed and fed, then she woke baby Niall up and did the same for him. It was a good two hours later now, so she woke Charlie.

Charlie sprang up in bed with her hair poking out, "I'm late for school!" She ran to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

"Slow down," her mom chuckled. "You need the rest. Today is National Charlie Day! We are going to celebrate YOU today!"

Patti, Oliver, Niall and Charlie jumped in the van and headed to Nona and Pops. The bell jingled on the door as they entered to find Nona calling out, "Good morning!" followed by Pops, "Good morning! We heard you were sleeping in today."

Mom and Charlie got some pocket waffles with sprinkles and they loaded back up in the van. "First," Mom said, "We are stopping at the post office." Charlie took the mail key and ran in to get the mail. There on the top of the pile was a letter clearly addressed to Charlie. She ran back to the van, "Mom! I got a letter from Eva!!" She tore it wide open and Niall said, "Bah!"

Charlie read and re-read and read again her letter from Eva and began doing the puzzle Eva created for her while Patti drove the van East. As they passed the Mayor, he shouted out, "Charlie! You're awake!" Charlie gave him a thumbs up out her window while her hair blew into her mouth. Niall turned toward the window, "Bah!" he yelled.

They were on hour into the drive when Patti pulled over to refuel. "Charlie," She said firmly, "Here's twenty dollars. Go into the store and spend it all on candy. It's National Charlie Day!"

Charlie went up and down the aisles, back and forth. She grabbed two of everything she loved.

For the next hour of the drive, Charlie at her candy, did her puzzle and shared some candy with Oliver to which Niall sighed, "Bah!"

The van slowly rolled to a stop as it glided over a sandy parking lot. Mom put Niall and Oliver in the wagon and covered them with chairs, towels, buckets, shovels, water wings and a large, striped umbrella. Charlie pushed while mom pulled that full wagon through the sand dunes, arriving at the shoreline twenty minutes later.

It could be heard up and down the beach, "It's National Charlie Day!" as people squealed and jumped in the surf.

After a few hours, Oliver was sunburned, Charlie's candy was all gone or melted and the umbrella had inverted itself in the wind. They loaded up the wagon. Charlie pushed while Mom pulled and they trudged back to the van for the two hour drive West.

The boys slept while Charlie read books and played on mom's phone until the van slowed down in the crunchy parking lot of the mall. Charlie led the way as the whole bunch of them headed in. There were balloons and banners with Charlie's photo hung all around the mall. "It's National Charlie Day!" Not a single person said she should be in school.

Walking into Build-A-Bear, mom plunked a wad of money down on the counter and said, "I'd like three of your best bears." Then Ollie, Niall and Charlie began building their very own bears. Charlie's had a lot of pink and a big pink bow in her hair. She had purple and pink stripe legs with silver glitter all over.  Ollie's bear was dark blue with puffy white paws and a monster truck in it's paw. Niall bit the nose off his bear, spit it across the room and said, "Bah!"

Sixty minutes later, Charlie led her brothers back down the mall, bears tucked securely under their arms. She stopped by the Pretzel Store and bought a pretzel for all of them. With mom's money, of course,

The people in the other stores all waved good-bye saying things like "It's National Charlie Day!" "Hey, here's some candy!" and "I love your bear, Charlie!" The whole way out, one person after another, cheering them on.

"Hurry!" Mom said, "We have to be home by 4:05 before Benji gets back from school!"

She put the hammer down and oh how that minivan zoomed! They careened around the corner and slid to a stop at Nona and Pops. The bell rang as they walked in, "Good afternoon!" called Nona. "Do you want the Charlie Day Special? People love it!"

"Yes, four please," Patti said as she plopped down a wad of money.

They each got a double scoop of the Charlie Special with sprinkles and gumballs on top, except for Niall, he got just a baby scoop with no gumballs. "Bah!" He yelled.

They drove back home and walked in the back door as Pookie and Benji were pulling up to the front door.  They ran through the house, opened the front door and called out, "Benji, How was school today?"

"Best day ever!" said Benji and mom winked at Charlie. Ollie smiled while Niall grinned and said, "Bah!"

New University City Branch Charlotte Meck Library

University City Branch Library

5528 Waters Edge Village Drive, Charlotte

Opened February, 2025

So I crossed the swollen Catawba some 50 miles before it pours into the Wateree. We were four weeks into Puxatawny Phil's winter extension and I had one foot solid in my 6th decade of life.

I criss-crossed the interstates, exited on a six lane highway that used to belong to an old sod farmer and squealed to a stop in what used to be my mom's driveway.

Dad jumped in, pulled in his cane and buckled up.  "Where we going?"

"The libary."  (Leaving out the middle r.)

He perked up. "The new one?!"

"You know it." I hit the gas.

The University City Branch of the Charlotte Mecklenburg Library just opened in a brand new location, 38,000 square feet with over 60,000 books, magazines and more.

We took my niece and nephew along to give the library a run for it's money to see how well it holds up.

It held up well.

In addition to common Library features, this one has laptops patrons can check out to use in the library.  They have a lot of events offered, including a yarn, hook and supplies exchange on March 16th at 2:00.  AARP is currently set up to help seniors do their taxes.

I love the little coves where you can sit and read in a semi-private area.  Also, I love the booths by the back window that overlooks the lake.

And get this, when you put a book in the drop box, it is automatically scanned, credited as a return on your account and sorted by genre. Like magic.

After I checked out my books, I found the kids in the non-fiction section and dad in a comfy chair reading a magazine. I swooned when the kids selected piles of books AND had their own library cards. Shucks, I'm so proud. 

Snapping Green Beans

I'm snapping beans in a large, bright unfamiliar kitchen in a city of 2,321,000 at the end of the first quarter in the 21st century.

I was 12 when my mom let me use a sharp knife to snap beans grown in dad's unreasonably large family garden. She taught me to nestle the smooth end in my palm, extending my pointer finger on the back of the blade.

"After you snap the ends, cut the beans in half and set them in the collander," mom instructed while Nana slid her eyes up to peek at me.  

"It's time to cool off," mom would periodically announce. Nana, Lisa and I would set the beans aside and jump into the pool.

The neighbor boys would come swim, standing shoulder to shoulder at the pool's edge while my brother, in his cowboy hat up on dad's shoulders would shoot his toy gun at the boys. "Pow! Pow!" One by one the boys would fall into the pool like a row of dominoes.

A bird sat outside the fence eating dad's blueberries through the netting.

My brother was 2 by then, sucking his two middle fingers at nap time and wearing his blankie thin.

We girls would get back to the business of the beans, our swimsuits dripping through the wide, scratchy chair webbing.

The new owners have long since filled in the pool, covering it with grass. I can't imagine not wanting your pool.

Even dad, who couldn't swim proper enjoyed the pool, flopping and splashing frantically as he grasped the pool's edge moving slowly down the length of the pool.

Uncle Bill had to rescue him one time. Dad lost his grip of the edge and began to plunge toward the hopper. Uncle Bill tossed his large, bulky video camera to the ground and rescued his brother. 

People today won't understand how rare a video camera was the the 70s. People today have a video camera perpetually in the palm of their hand.

Yesterday somebody somewhere dropped their video camera (phone) from an airplane as they were jumping out. The phone filmed sky and earth in rotation until it landed with a thud in a pig sty at which point it kept filming nothing but blue sky until an enormous pig's face appeared. The thing recorded the pigs until a farmer's face appeared. The farmer posted the video, it went viral within hours and the owner retrieved his phone.  Hi Ho the Dairy-O.

Mom would carry our snapped beans into the knotty pine, dark kitchen and rinse them well, all the while humming a tune or listening to Jim Nabors singing from a 5 foot long walnut stereo system. She would boil those beans forever, blowing her steamy bangs off her forehead, having loosened them from her bandana. It was a fancy bandana, don't get me wrong. Probably called a kerchief back then. Mom would cringe hearing me call it a bandana. 

As I snap beans 51 years later with my brother's daughter, at my brother's house, I smile at fond memories and make a note to ask my sister-in-law if he still sucks his fingers in the night. I'm told he still has his blankie.  I toss the beans in heated oil for 8 minutes, pour some soy sauce and rice vinegar on them and sprinkle them with ginger. I blow the bangs out of my eyes.

Indulge Cookbook Review

So... I love Valerie Bertinelli's new cookbook called Indulge.  I made three of the recipes this weekend and had some friends over for an outdoor picnic under the fairy lights. Very much Indulge style.

Pretzel Buns.  

I strongly recommend. These are easy to make, but time consuming. Detail oriented. Caution:  eat them fresh from the oven. They are unbelievably good at that point.  When I served them 7 hours later? Not so tasty, kind of bland. And that is precisely when my guests ate them.  Then I froze them and ate one the next day. Ugh. Hard as a Rock.

I will definitely make these again, many more times, but I will serve them freshly baked

Homemade Cheeze It's.

I also definitely recommend these. They are so good. But again they are best when they are freshly baked.  However, not so bad the next day too.  

Blistered Green Beans.

Amazing!!  All of my guests wanted the recipe.  I will be sending it to them. However you, my friend, will have to buy the book. Or check it out at your local library. I checked it out at the library first to make sure I liked it and then I went and bought it.

I very much recommend this book and this is not a paid sponsorship. Indulge is a lifestyle and not just a cookbook. It is so good. 

Muah, darlings. Go ahead... indulge.

Kielbasa & Kraut

So I crossed the Saluda and the Broad, hung a hard left and crossed the Catawba 90 minutes later.  I was going to spend some time with the Pops.

While I was there, he cooked me something his mama cooked for him when he was a wee boy circa 1947, Polish Kielbasa with kraut and potatoes.  It was SO GOOD I must share the recipe.

1 cup chicken broth

1 large jar of sauerkraut 

1 Polish Kielbasa

4 potatoes, cut into 3" pieces

Garlic and onion powder to taste

Salt and pepper to taste

Toss all of this into a crockpot. Cook on high for 6 hours.

Serves: 4

Enjoy!!

Indulge Cookbook (Valerie Bertinelli) Book Review

 So I know what I want for my birthday....

I checked this one out of the library. I'm only on page 72 and I know I want this book.  I don't even cook anymore! But THIS will get me going. This is just the ticket. I picture myself blissfully in my apron, cooking with a grandchild by my side, a cute little apprentice.

My favorite recipes so far:

• Eggs in Purgatory with Kale
• Classic Eggs Benedict 
• Cuban Sandwich with Slow-Cooked Pulled Pork
• Spinach and Ricotta Grilled Cheese
• Thyme and Gruyere Savory Cookies

Imagine!  ME.... Shopping for Gruyere! I'll have to dress nicer for that grocery trip. Maybe wear my strappy black sandals.

This recipe book is full of foods I love, mixed in interesting ways. It'll push me just enough to be fun and challenging. And I'm really looking forward to some new recipes to share with friends and family gathered around my picnic table while the kids swing in the hammock and birds chirp in the trees.  

And THAT, my friend, is how to Indulge.

First Trip to Costco

So I crossed Sugar Creek in what we call the Chariot, legs heavy on the footrest of my recliner, driven by the same driver I had for my birth week celebrations.

We crossed McMullen Creek and glided through Matthews, NC.

I would give you exact directions, but the way we went included two U-turns and took a little bit longer because I distracted the driver with my story about Benji and the long johns from The Bake Shoppe that were really short johns due to Bidenomics.

It must've been national handicap day because all of the handicap spots were taken. My driver was also driving my 80 something year old parents and handicap parking would've hit the spot. One handicap spot was taken by what appeared to be a 20 something year old guy in excellent health. We see this more and more - non-handicaps parking in the handicap spots.

My sister flashed her pass and we were granted entrance. We each grabbed a buggy and headed to the concession stand for lunch (our reason for coming here).

I had heard about their world famous quarter pound hot dog and knew I had to have one. One hot dog and one drink for a $1.50. Then I saw their giant slices of pizza and knew I had to have one. $1.99. She overcharged me for two drinks, but I didn't notice on account of all the chaos and buggies running into me. 

Take your own kraut. They have other condiments, no kraut. Everybody is right, the hot dogs are amazing.

While we were eating, our buggies were stolen.

My sister went outside to get new buggies. She left her membership card with us, inside at the table. When she attempted to re-enter the store with our buggies, she was stopped and told she could not enter without her card. She explained what happened and they did not trust her. She is a panicky sort and got very agitated being without both her cell phone and membership card She felt accosted and indicted, not helping her case at all. 

The officer, I mean clerk, said she would be willing to escort my sister inside Costco to retrieve her membership card. My sister arrived visibly shaken, produced her card and her escort left amid some colorful language.

We exited the concession area and moved slowly through the chaotic crowd to the front door where we could acquire some buggies, my sister having failed us.

I was not happy with the crowd. I wouldn't want to shop very often with people in my way, squeezing past me and pushing from behind. Costco is not the place for me  ChaosCo. 

The free samples, on the other hand, provided some attraction for me.

Be sure to take your 69-cent refillable drink along as you shop to wash down your samples.

Pictured here are my Hello Panda chocolate cookies and my Mama Chia blackberry snack. Both were excellent, definitely stop by those stations.

I did not sample the Zena Liquid Collagen beverage. But as I went past I heard another customer say "It's not terrible."

Be strategic with the free samples. We sent dad ahead as a scout. He would sample, then give us a discreet thumbs up or down.

Traffic came to a standstill at the Del Real tamales sample station on account of them being so good and too close to the pork samples. Dad gave a thumbs up, so I buckled down and headed in.

I got tied up at the tamale station and missed dad's hand signal for the veggie blueberry muffin station. Mom said the Veggie station made a great blueberry muffin so I recklessly grabbed both the blueberry muffin sample and the chocolate raspberry muffin sample without dad's signal. Bad move. They were both horrible. You can't disguise that carrot in the muffin! That sample station had the fullest trash can of all on account of all those hidden veggies.

Mom gave the Ruby Kirkland Popcorn a thumbs down so I sauntered on by with a polite nod to the senior citizen doling them out.

We separated a bit after those foul experiences, then I thought I saw dad across the warehouse, but it couldn't be him because this guy was wearing a different shirt, a nice crisp hoodie. I've never in my life seen my dad in a hoodie.

As I inched closer, I found it WAS dad. In a hoodie. He was trying on. In the store. In public.

I did an about face with furtive glances to the left and right and quickly went the other way which happened to take me by the Hello Panda samples again.

I had three items in my buggy which added up to a 46" x 62" circumference of boxed products that will last me 423 days alone or 66 days if my grandkids come over.

We were approaching checkout when suddenly we had a mishap on aisle 317 causing the clean-up man to come beeping down the aisle.

They should have one of those robot cleaners like the ones at the Walmarts. They don't even need a driver. Or snack breaks. They clean 24/7. But no,  ChaosCo still has the manned ones.

Anyway, it took 3 clerks and a five minute conversation for us to cash out. It was complicated on account of we had two members and three guests. I got the impression that ChaosCo does not like guests. In fact, I know they don't.

But that's okay, I don't really like them. Well, I like their hot dogs.

Prompt: in a world that often seemed chaotic

In a world that often seemed chaotic, she found her solace in watching the neighbor slowly, painfully, retrieve his newspaper each morning just as the sun crests the Sycamore tree. Outgoing, he moves precisely, with great concentration and stiff limbs. Each step a culmination of 83 years of stepping. Step, thump, scrape. With the return trip, he is  limber and loose, always producing a wave and a smile, eager with anticipation.

Island Time Crochet Afghan

So.... I guess I haven't been keeping up with my new year's resolution to blog every day. Life is too short for that.  But I'm here now.  For a minute.

I've started a new crochet blanket that I wanted to share.  It's gorgeous.  It's called Island Time and is a pattern by Mallory Krall. You can purchase the pattern on NautiKrall or Ravelry. Wouldn't this be great in a beach house?

I've been crocheting for about four years now. You can tell by my seams that I'm not an expert yet.  I really need to learn to do better seams. Some of my afghans are for sale and some I have gifted. My artsy side met up with my hippie side and resulted in a love for crochet... and less time for blogging. 

What do you love doing right now?

Committees are the secret to a successful Christmas

Merry Christmas!  I'm up at 5:00 waiting for the Cousin Crew to wake up.

Christmas Eve was a blast!

Maybe too much fun for a few.

The night started with a meeting of the Chair Committee.  Followed by a briefing from the Utensil Committee. The Food Committee took over and all went well.

We had our traditional lasagne dinner followed by the stocking stuffers exchange wherein the most coveted and traded gifts included a Chick Fil A card and an autographed photo of Eric Estrada that was clearly regifted.

The least traded gift was a dose of GasX which the original recipient was stuck with. Which was totally appropriate since it was dad.

The evening ended with hugs and kisses and me whispering to dad, "We have a situation brewing."

Yikes! We never formed a Trash Committee. 😧

Crossing the Catawba Again

So I crossed the Catawba again.  Back in my blogging days, when I crossed the Catawba, it meant I was going to see my nana. But now I would have to cross the Jordan in order to see my nana again. So when I cross the Catawba now, I'm either meeting Cousin David for wings or going to visit my mom and dad.

In this case, it was Mom and Dad.

As they approached their eighties, mom and Dad decided to sell the family home and downsize to a condominium. At which point, the grandchildren cried out for one last Christmas at Mimi and Papa's house. Mimi and Papa acquiesced, albeit with fear and trembling.

As Christmas drew near, they wondered more and more how they could possibly host 28 people for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Several under the age of 9 and rather mischievous, slightly brutal to home decor. 

So that's what led me to cross the Catawba three days before Christmas in the difficult year of 2021.

As I dusted the four bedroom home, climbed the rickety 1910 wooden ladder to fix the garage door opener and drizzled chocolate over 61 truffles (but who's counting?), I found myself longing for wings with Cousin David.

And thinking of Cousin David made me want to blog again because my faithful readers have always enjoyed following the life of Cousin David.

It was also a couple of faithful readers who suggested I might start blogging again. And with 28 family members in a four bedroom house for 2 days, what could provide better blogging material??

Drop a comment and tell me how you plan to celebrate christmas.

South Carolina SC / NC Leaf Peeping Tour 2018

I took a leaf-peeping tour across South Carolina and North Carolina during a very sunny two-day road trip Oct. 21 & 22, I thought the leaves would be perfect then. Wrong. There was a lot of green on my trip.

I suspect the leaves will be better the following two weekends. We had a warm fall and I bitterly blame that.

However, let me give you my route because it was perfect. You should try it. You have to navigate by waterways with my directions, though. But GPS can handle it.

Going down I-20 from Aiken toward Augusta, I crossed the lazy Savannah, hung a right near Thompson, gave a nod to Aonia Pass and my GNCC friends, then crossed a mild tip of Lake Hartwell. I crossed the springwaters of Cane Creek, crawled through the parking lot at Oktoberfest in Walhalla and right out the other side, too crowded to park and stop.

I began the ascent to Stumphouse Tunnel on Hwy. 25 where I reminisced with a nod to the melancholy and got some exercise.

I then glided along the Cherokee Foothills Scenic Highway and crossed into North Carolina at the Nantahala National Forest border around 107 and 64. I hung a hard right, crossing Lake Toxaway, skirting past Gorges State Park and took the ol' Rosman Hwy. straight into downtown Brevard, white squirrel country.

Up the next day before sunrise following a night with the squirrels, I drove up to Pounding Mill Overlook on the Blue Ridge Parkway to see sunrise over the smoky, blue mountains.

looking glass rock

I careened along the Blue Ridge Parkway, over Asheville and rolled that power on. ("but 'cepts" I was in my Jeep and not my former '86 Honda Rebel 450, sadly)

I motored past Mt. Mitchell, but you should stop there, it's worth it. As I was saying, I motored past Mt. Mitchell, stopping only when I ran low on fuel along Buck Creek in Marion, curiously familiar and again, melancholy memories fly.

I gassed up the Jeep, tossed sad memories out the window, kept it down and tooled up the 221-S hills. I set the GPS for home sweet home and danced along the Second Broad and Cathey's Creek, following Cleghorn Creek down to the Broad, the real Broad.

Passing about ten too many Dollar Generals, I steadied on to the Landrum Starbucks, a traditional Maslar family meeting place, short three Maslars.  Caffeine in my veins, I buzzed onto I-26E, arm out in the cold breeze, Bob Seger blaring "I could go left, I could go right, it was all up to me to decide."

I resisted the cloverleaf at Spartanburg and rolled up 26 like a rocket sled on rails, racing the N. Tyger river until she took a sharp turn north, crossed under me and began her flow to the Broad just above Columbia, knowing I'd get there before her.

It wasn't "the dark of the moon on the sixth of June," but I had the hammer down with a nod to the Rubber Duck.

52 Weeks: FASTer Way to Fat Loss with Patti Holsenback

This is a photo of my macros on My Fitness Pal app and you can see this was a "Low Carb Day."  I'm a meat-eater so I kind of like Low Carb Day.

In my 52 Weeks to better living, I've engaged in a 6 week program with FASTer Way to Fat Loss and Patti Holsenback.

This requires some time -- meal planning and prep -- but seems like a pretty healthy way to eat.  Intermittent Fasting.  I'm learning as I go, but Patti is a GREAT teacher, coach and champion.

Give it a shot!

Patti Holsenback is a pre- and post- natal fitness coach and runs a Strong Core, Strong Mom workshop that is amazing.  She also leads the FASTer Way to Fat Loss, too, and maybe a few other things.  She's also passed the SC Bar and is a lawyer, but she's a stay at home mom currently.

52 Weeks: Essential Oils

I've added essential oils to my life and I've really been enjoying them.  I can't say that they actually help with my health though, I can't tell.  But I love using them - they smell good and seem to be beneficial to health just because of what they are.

I purchased a box of roller ball bottles with labels from Amazon.  I purchased this oil diffuser.  This is my second one.  My first had a wood look and was beautiful, but it started making a noise when it was running and I had to get another diffuser.  By that time, the wood looking one had gone way up in price and I couldn't afford it.  So I got this one, which is OK.

After googling essential oil recipes, I've mixed some up and am using my roller ball to apply.  I have one mix for headaches, one for energy, one for immunity aid and one for allergies and colds.  I'll make more soon.

I get my oils from Plant Therapy and once in awhile from Young Living.  The quality of your oils really matters and differs between companies.

Teach Kids About Unanswered Prayer

 

Benji is 5 1/2.  He celebrates two birthdays annually, one for the whole number and one for the half fraction. When he figures out there are multiple fractions, we will be in trouble.

I'm concerned for Benji because he has a lot of worries going on and he's too private or shy to address them. So they simmer. Then they blow. But there is a type that doesn't blow, it simmers and comes to a rolling boil of anxiety we know nothing about. Or so I suspect.

In the past, he has learned that a genuine promise from an adult he trusts still might not come true. I can see him mentally walking a tightrope determining if what I say could possibly fail. And I just want to hug him.

His other grandma, "Gammy" and I were going on a cruise together just over a year ago and Benji was disturbed that Gammy was going to fall overboard, never to return.  We insisted that would not happen, we promised she would return. She didn't fall overboard, but she didn't return, either, due to a fatal car crash. I look back and wonder why he knew she wasn't returning, he was very adamant about her falling overboard. Maybe because she limped. That makes sense. But there's a part of me that thinks he has some spiritual insight and that would explain the extreme worry.

So he's turned 5 1/2 and he has discovered another BIG worry in life.  Not only do adults make promises that can remain unfulfilled, but God Himself can be shaky.  He can decide NOT to give you what you pray for.

Kids assume if you teach them to pray, that God will answer their requests exactly as requested. Isn't it odd that I never thought about this.

He and I prayed the other day and subsequently I mentioned how much fun it will be IF God gives us what we asked for - I think it was that his daddy would come home early. Benji was stunned. He narrowed his eyes at me and said, "But we prayed for it, so God will do it."  Then I saw every failed tenet on playback in his brain.

Now I was the surprised one.  Really?  We never taught him about unanswered prayer?

We then discussed it. Benji was concerned at first, then he saw some benefit of a God who can see the future and not give us what we ask for.

I'm over-thinking our encounter. I fear I have burdened him even more. Look at me -- worrying about his worrying. Join me?