Mixed Cereal and Mutant Corn

            When the boys were younger and left cereal boxes on the table, I would say to them, “If you don’t put the cereal away, I will.”

            That actually sounded great to them until they realized that I would not be returning all of the cereal boxes to the cupboard.  If there was less than a forth of a box (or bag) left, I wouldn’t allow for it to have it’s own space.  I would combine the cereals into one container.   And I would not purchase more cereal until what ALL of the cereal was gone

            The boys came to a fast realization that mixing TRIX, Raisin Bran and Sugar Puffs together was NOT cool.  (There was generally three to five flavors of combined cereals)  They learned rather quickly to put cereal away on their own.

            And then there’s Jenna who thinks having Froot Loops mixed in with Lucky Charms is quite delightful.  It’s what she had for breakfast this morning (well, knock offs of those brands anyway) Gross. 

            We took some rather lush looking corn from the community garden.  Ours was still in the mutant stage.  But our 12 kernels actually tasted better than the kernels that covered the community corn.  Ours were sweet.  The community’s looked a lot better than they tasted.

            We also brought a cantaloupe home.  I’d never seen cantaloupe with the exterior that it had.  It looked more like a squash.

            It was juicy though.  Possibly the juiciest melon I’ve had – though I’m still not convinced that it didn’t contain squash seeds as it grew.  It wasn’t sweet at all.  It tasted like a squash and melon combined.  Not impressed.  I’m NOT a gardener.

Just a Hint of Fall

There have been some mornings

in which I could feel a touch of fall in the air. 

Some mornings. 

Not all mornings. 

Not Yesterday. 

In fact it was hot.

 Jenna’s first day of school and

I put Highness in the car so that

I could take him for a walk. 

It was hot. 

Very hot.

The sun shown in my eyes.

Too bright.

I couldn’t drive home towards it

so we walked around until

The sun rose higher in the sky.

 

Yesterday was very unlike today

which has a coolness about it. 

I don’t know the temperature outside.

 But the promise of fall seems real now. 

Not like the overcast days in July when

the dark clouds filled the skies with

malicious teasing creating

a sticky hotness that wasn’t felt from the sun alone.

 

Today the sun peaks through

but there is still a touch of fall in the air. 

A touch of a promise. 

I don’t think we’re through with summer. 

The tomatoes have just started turning red,

and there are two fetus melons in the garden. 

I’d like to see them mature at least and

have others join them.

We did get peppers this year.

 I’d like to see them get bigger. 

The small ones have such a poignant sharp bite to them.

I don’t like them when they have a bite. 

But sometimes we have to pick them

before the brown disease sets in.

We have a garden. 

Not the one we had hoped for, but still. 

Things have been growing. 

Even though the heat has been unbearable.

 It was in June and it was

quite hot yesterday.

 I like the way the air is right now. 

Not to hot,

not too cool. 

I hope winter isn’t as cold as

summer was hot this year.

I’d like to see the skies

invite the rains

for real

in this state
in this city. 

I love fall.

                                                kfralc

VEGTABLES ARE BORING

         My most favorite ways of eating vegetables are steamed and smothered with cheese or as a raw salad with dressing – though some vegetables don’t seem to work in salads for me – such as zucchini and other squashes. We learned that eggplant has been planted in the community garden as well.  What’s that all about?

Roland and I have tried various recipes for the zucchinis, squash, cucumbers and beets that we have picked.  He found a recipe of using an olive oil base and breading and throwing cheese on top of sliced zucchini. But I am getting so sick of trying to disguise or appreciate my vegetable and continue with what I thought started out as boring in the first place.  I do like zucchini cookies and zucchini bread. But I should be able to eat my vegetables in other ways.

My mom had a recipe for glazed carrots.  I don’t know if it will work on squash or zucchini, but am willing to give it a try.  I’ve tried several other ways.  I did a beet and bean salad which I ate by myself – so that got tiring.  The roasted beets were good by themselves.  I should have just kept them separate.

Last night Roland and I tried a tomato and cucumber salad as seen here:

My favorite part: the croutons. Wish I had Claire Robinson's enthusiasm.

         Not only do I think they are boring, but vegetables actually stimulate my appetite – along with rice.  Seriously.  I eat the vegetable dish with whatever else has been prepared – but I am hungry within two hours.  Vegetables (at least for me personally) make a lousy snack.  They just don’t fill me or satisfy me for more than two minutes.  A Girl Scout cookie on the other hand can chase away the hunger a lot longer than a vegetable can – not to mention that it just tastes 100% better.

I think that placing the vegetables in a pasta casserole is my best solution.  Then I am getting vegetables and grains at the same time.  Add some cheese and I am also getting dairy.  I’ve had broccoli and chicken.  I like cauliflower – and actually is one of the few vegetables I would rather eat cooked than raw.  But there are just some vegetables that I would prefer not eat at all: okra, Brussels’ sprouts, egg plant, celery . . .

I’m not a big fan of legumes either.  Kidney beans, black beans, garbanzo beans, lima beans.  My mouth has broken into “yuck” just thinking about it.

I find it somewhat ironic

           I believe that Corey was still in high school when he was asked to participate in a program that was being presented to the stake Relief Society.  As I recall he was playing a reporter and had to interview many different women who played an important part in Church history.

            He’d been invited to stay for the luncheon, which would follow the program.  I don’t think he had ever been to an RS luncheon before.  The portions were smaller than usual – the luncheon committee hadn’t planned on quite so many people.

            Corey downed his food in nothing flat – believing that it was just an appetizer and wondered when the main course would be served.  Corey was highly disappointed when we told him that was it.  No seconds. No leftovers.  We went out to lunch after we left the Church.

            I don’t know who’s idea it has been that RS sisters are all petite and that we’d never gorge and that we can make a feast out of what many wouldn’t even consider enough food to be a snack. Oh, yes, I know when the RS first started and when the pioneers were crossing the plains and when early settlers were growing their own crops and they didn’t have access to Twinkies or candy bars, they were thinner and more petite.  But I’ve got news to share with committees of the present.  A half gallon of ice cream was not designed to feed 12-18 sisters while it would only serve 2-4 elders.  Hey, some of the sisters have appetites, too.  Some of us could put some elders to shame with our appetites – okay maybe not elders – but high priests. 

            So last night there was an enrichment (a monthly Relief Society gathering) to sample and submit recipes for a ward cook book.  I brought Calico beans.  There were a few other entre items and rolls.  But mostly there were desserts. 

            That’s all that I took were samples.  I did not do any major pigging out until after I knew every sister had eaten.  Attendance was great.  How could there have possibly been so much leftover food?   I was full.  Beyond full.  I had to try everything.  I found it ironic that I walked away from a “sampling” with a full stomach than I have from any RS lunch or dinner.  Though I do recall having the opportunity for seconds in this ward.  One of the greatest things about my short lived calling to be on the activities committee was taking home leftovers.  Our RS president at the time was  (and still is) a great cook.  And she loved doing it.

Thank you AsianCookingmadeEasy

I have to post this because I am so major proud of my most recent accomplishment.  I just cooked my first turkey ever.  Almost 20 pounds!  And I wasn’t even chopped.  Roland gave me his seal of approval. 

Roland is the one who normally cooks.  He was planning on doing it when he returned home.  But I figured he’d be hungry when he got home and wanted to surprise him – though it wasn’t actually done until about an hour and a half after his return.  But it is two and a half to three hours earlier than it would have been if he had cooked.

Wow.  I cooked a turkey.  And it was good.  Thank you AsianCookingmadeEasy.  

Having our Christmas Dinner in July

          Family has grown.  We used to do a dinner on Christmas Eve. We would gather at the house where Aunt Gertrude and Uncle Ted live.  That was a tradition for years.  My grandma Helen and her three kids and their children - we started out with just three of us -  I was the eldest, then my cousin, Michelle, my brother Patrick and then Michelle’s brother came along.  It was another seven years before Edmund and Corey were born and then Rosa and then Kayla. 

          Daddy’s only sister, Chrissy got married to Kim.  Eventually they had four boys and the family continued to grow.  Both Patrick and Michelle found partners and married. And the family continued to grow.  It seemed like there were more people than room. 

It got hard for Trudy to host not one, but two dinners each year.  Not that she was supplying all the food.  All of the families chipped in. Trudy and Ted had hosted at their house on Christmas Eve for the families of one of their brothers and Christmas day for another.  After a while she no longer felt the need to do Christmas day as (I would guess) other family members took over – and I suppose it wasn’t as meaningful to Don’s family as it had been to ours.

          Each year Aunt Trudy would tell the family that it would be the last year that she would have it. And then she would call us the following year to make arrangements until one year mom said we could do it at her house.  But still, the families all continues to grow.  In-law obligations.  Too much running around.  So one year Michelle had suggested that we start a new tradition.  Instead of having a family gathering in December, why not have a pool party in July?

          So that’s what we do now.  The weather is a lot more inviting for driving.  Everyone is more relaxed.  There is a Christmas tree next to the gate to the pool and Christmas music plays in the background. We no longer have the ham and turkey, the funeral potatoes and glazed carrots.  Hamburgers, hot dogs and salads fill our plates. Instead of bulky sweaters, we have on swimsuits and trunks and enjoy our Christmas much differently than we have in the past.

          This Christmas Eve it will just be Roland, Jenna, mom and I.  Possibly Biff.  It will be the smallest Christmas dinner that I remember.  But that can be nice.  It’s a matter of attitude more than it is people.  Later on today I will call Aunt Trudy and Uncle Ted and see if they would like to attend also.  They come to the pool parties – but never come into the pool.

Eggnog

          I have absolutely LOVED eggnog since I was a kid.  Last year was actually the first year that I’ve not LOVED – it just isn’t as good as I remember.  Are the dairy product brands cheating us out of an ingredient perhaps?  Cutting costs in today’s economy?  I don’t see how.  The price of eggnog seems to be given the same value as gold.  I mean it’s always been more pricy than your milk or milk products – which also have increased in cost.  But I’m not even enjoying the “gold”

          You would think with its ritzy price, I would savor every drop and make it count.  But the truth is I’m NOT enjoying it.  Or rather I did not enjoy it last year and have not even bothered with it this year.

Could be my taste buds are warped?  I’ve always heard that smell a large percentage of what you taste and my smell has definitely gone.   I had actually learned the smell/taste thing in grade school – but that was many moons ago and it may not stand true today (for example, Pluto was considered to be the coldest planet when I was in school;   understand thatnow Pluto is NOT considered to be a planet at all – go figure)

          Even though my mouth is disappointed by the eggnog taste today,  I am equally grateful for the not-so-awesome taste as it really isn’t in the budget nor has it been for quite some time. And now I don’t have to feel like I am missing out.  I had eggnog twice last year (one at my mom’s and a one quart reputable brand that my husband and I purchased as a treat) On December 4^th of last year, it left a nasty taste in my mouth.  Hmmm

          I know Corey still loves it.  But I think the quality of eggnog has gone down with the rest of the economy.  As I have said earlier, I haven’t even tasted egg nog this year.  And I don’t think I’m missing out anymore (unless BYU creamery does one.  I’d be so willing to try that)

       

3rd year, 4th Christmas

          I have so many memories of Christmases – before Roland, after Roland, childhood, on and on and on.

          This year we will be celebrating twelve years together.  Half of them with financial struggles and at least three with sub for Santa.

          When I first moved in to our first house (Roland and the boys had already been living there for six months) it was September of 2001.  In December our family was targeted as the “twelve days of Christmas” recipients.  And that was fun and I felt very welcome to the area.

          Our first tree was an artificial Charlie Brown – the kind that gets used in a window display as part of the winter scenery – but not necessarily Christmas.  It is what would be used in a window selling skis or snow blowers or something – an insignificant tree that blends in to the background – the absolute smallest tree that I had ever encountered during my lifetime.

                                                It was flocked but much smaller than this one

                                                Maybe the second to the smallest - but skinnier

          (Apparently it was so small that I did not get a picture of it – and as it was so pathetic, I cannot even find anything on the internet that will match it.  I did not get my first digital camera until Jenna was three; maybe that’s why I can’t find anything)

          We had purchased two gifts for each of the boys.  We opened our gifts in the back room where we had placed and decorated our tiny tree.

          When we had our second Christmas, Ooki  was living with us.  It was the first time he had celebrated the holiday.  We showed him how to decorate the tree.  We had a large unwrapped gift for each boy.  Roland and I woke them up at like 5:30 or six.  It was too early for all of them – even Randy.

          Our financial struggles were really bad the year I was pregnant with Jenna – it may have been the worse for us – though we were still in the same house another five years – so maybe not?

          The experience that touches me the most (as I still cry when I tell it) is the year we were assigned to bring potatoes to the family dinner.  All month I had been trying to save up with any spare change – I had made a jar and labeled it “the potato fund” (or something like that) and asked each of the boys to assist Roland and me with our attempts to fill the jar.  (I don’t think we ever reached a dollar as Tony would take more than he would give)

Two days before the dinner there was a knock on my door.  I opened the door to find this Nephite  (he wasn’t dressed as a Nephite, but seemed to have that same stature as he filled the entire door frame) standing in my doorway with a bag of potatoes.  He handed them to me and told me that his mom wanted me to have them. And then he was gone.

My tears were (and still are) of gratitude, but brought concern to the ReliefSociety president who came by to drop off our sub for Santa gifts. She asked why I was crying and I explained.  The worse part of it all was I didn’t know who the Nephite was.  But she figured it out and told me and I was actually kind of embarrassed that I hadn’t known.

My mom called just as the RS pres. Left.  She told me that I didn’t have to bring potatoes if it was going to hurt us financially.  And I started crying again.

Randy was excited about all the gifts beneath the tree – while the other two were embarrassed over the very idea that we were a product of charity.  I was a bit embarrassed that there were so many gifts – way more than we had had the first two years combined.  There were even presents there for Roland and me.

Someone had donated an overgrown bag (like the kind you see Santa carrying) full of oversize shirts (Roland was on the heavier side back then) although none of them wrapped.  We did have wrapping paper, and so I went through the bag, sorting shirts, wrapping some for Roland and some of them for me (as some of them felt nice on my pregnant belly) 

And then when we lost our first house and moved into the smaller one (where we live currently) the ward we once belonged to followed us over with more sub for Santa gifts – mostly for Jenna.  They also supported our two boys who were out on missions.

We have been in this house for three years now – but this is our forth Christmas.  Last year Randy proposed to Carrie.  This will be their first Christmas as a married couple.  This will be Tony and Rochelle’s first Christmas as mom and dad. Our first Christmas as grandparents – though we won’t actually be seeing them – unless they fly in for the holidays.  They have been here once this year already.

Jenna's very excited for Christmas this year.  She's already made several drawings depicting the holidays.

             

Yesterday's Turkey Dinner

          I started this blog on New Years of this year.  I was faithful to write every single day – or almost every day.  But when school ended, so did my once-a-day posts.  My focus had to be on Jenna.  And when school started back up, mom’s memory had deteriorated and so I seemingly started spending more time with her (especially when Corey had gone back to Las Vegas – where he is now registered as a permanent resident in the state of Nevada) and so I still haven’t gotten back to one a day. Perhaps I never will.

          Kayla and her two children met Jenna and me at my mom’s on the Thursday of Thanksgiving.  I had gone because it was my day and we had already celebrated Thanksgiving dinner with the family on the Saturday prior.  Kayla brought her kids because Bill wanted to clean the carpets.

          They had left the house about 1:00 to return home to make dishes for their Thanksgiving dinner with one of Bill’s sisters (the one who lives in Utah) and baby brother. 

          Roland was planning on doing dinner at 3:00 – but time got away from him, I guess.  I boiled potatoes and mashed them.  They were ready at two.  I don’t think I started the gravy until 3:00. 

          At 3:30 Jenna and “Grandma” and I got into the car and drove to my house for dinner.

          Mom seemed to enjoy Thursdays dinner more than the dinner we had on Saturday.  For one thing she was a lot more alert.  For another thing, dinner on Thursday was quite small.  Only five of us.  We had turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and rolls, and green beans.  Ice cream for dessert. 

          After we had finished eating, Roland wanted to play spades.  I don’t know if my mom has even played spades before.  And explaining games to her is a chore as it is.  But we went with it.  Explaining the rules every time we dealt. 

          Randy and Carrie had dropped by.  I was surprised to see them.  They had come to see mom.  And Roland decided it would be fun to play spades in teams.  Randy said he wanted to play by himself – and so Roland decided that he would give him grandma’s handicap and would appear that he was playing by himself.

  

          She had bid three tricks at one time when Randy had nothing in his hand.  She probably could have taken them if she had thrown out her lowest spade rather than her highest. 

          When we were down to two cards Kevin leaned across the table and said, “Grandma, I thought you said you had three” (referring to the tricks)

          “I did.  And now I only have two” (referring to the cards left in her hand) everybody at the table (except for Randy and my mom) started laughing. And then mom smiled as the rest of us were laughing.  And Randy stared ahead in unbelief.

          After a few more rounds, Biff volunteered to take grandma home (as I don’t drive at night – otherwise I would have gone)

          It was actually not a good night for Randy (card wise) and actually a better night for me than usual.  When Randy announced that he and Carrie had to go, Biff and I were certain that the only reason why he left was because he was losing.  We both figured if he hadn’t gone so far down into the hole, he would have continued playing.

          Today I will take Jenna with me to Bill and Kayla’s where we will hang for most of the day.  Roland has some work ahead of him that will be accomplished easier if Jenna’s not around.  Plus I would really like to play games with them. 

          Jenna has a possible hair appointment.  I will call at 1:30 to verify.  If not, we will just stay longer with Bill and Kayla.  And if Roland finishes with what he needs to accomplish, maybe Bill and Kayla will come here for some more games afterwards (if I remember to take Roland’s turkey to their house for lunch, that alone could bring Bill back for more)

          I’m grateful that mom had a good day yesterday.  I’m happy to hear that Corey had a wonderful Thanksgiving.  I missed him.  But I’m happy for the opportunities that he has right now to get on with his life in Las Vegas.

Waiting Tables

          I think everybody ought to have the opportunity of waiting tables for at least two months.  Some may have to do it longer to really appreciate what hard work for little wages really is.  Although I don’t know if it’s quite as feast or famine as it used to be. 

          My second job was at the ice cream parlor where my mom worked.  I was probably there longer than any other job.  I think I started out at 2.67 an hour.  Milkshakes were less than two on the menu. I’d seen the prices going up quite often.  Wish my paycheck had been increased as rapidly.

I mostly worked weekends and one or two nights during the week.  I would come in at 6:00 or 8:00 and work until after closing.  Everybody did everything and tips were split among all of those who worked that shift.  Our assignments consisted of being host or hostess (seating customers and bringing them water), waiting tables, making orders, taking orders for and making cones, cashier, dishwasher and those who were really competent would have the honor of relieving the candy lady when the need arose.

         

          There were a few nights when patrons would enter consistently – but for the most part there were gaps of “looking busy” and then they’d swarm in due to some concert or high school dance or what have you letting out or ending up.  And as a waiter/waitress one always wondered if it had been announced to “be sure and stop by” as it was always crowded.  And then we were working just as hard as any aerobic class – maybe harder.

          My favorite jobs were either waiting tables or dishwasher – which wasn’t actually assigned to the girls all too often.  Making orders wasn’t too bad if the ice cream was soft enough to scoop out.  But on really busy nights, we would end up getting in each other’s way.

          I didn’t enjoy doing cones all that much – also a job that was more popularly assigned to the boys.  Counters were okay.  It was a “do-it-all” task and it was by the doors which sometimes invited a welcoming breeze.

          When the family business was handed to the next generation, they attempted to add new things to the menu – like sandwiches, soup and coffee – which they would stop serving after six.  And once in a while I would work the day shift.

          The day shift workers would clear tables, but that’s as far as it would get.  Never did a single dish make it into the dish room until I came on board (day time shift)  making sure to fill a tub with soapy water and drop each of the soup bowls into the water when I separated the other items in the cart.  Really.  How hard is that?  Dropping soup bowls into a tub of water? 

          Those who were assigned to do dishes loved me.  It certainly made their job a lot easier.  But I had done dishes before.  I knew what it was like.  I was getting paid to work – not to stand around and visit.  I just didn’t get why it was always such a big deal for the day shift to get off their duffs and help out a little.

          Also I don’t recall any of the employees ever being coffee drinkers.  We often received complaints on the coffee.  Sometimes we’d actually invite the customer back to make his or her own coffee (how professional, huh) I think they did away with it after a while.  We honestly just didn’t know.

          I made several friends throughout the years.  I graduated high school.  Moved on to another job.  Sometimes I would substitute for somebody at the ice cream store.  Went to school.  Returned to the ice cream.  Went on a mission. Returned to the ice cream. And continued to be on the payroll at least two years after quitting my job again (as I would still sub at least once a paycheck)

          I worked at the ice cream parlor (or subbed) in addition to at least three or four other jobs.  The ice cream parlor was never a full time job. I probably put in more hours when I was in high school than I had since.

          Funniest story ever.  Nathan (not his real name) and some other co-workers were on their break discussing going to prom.  One asked Nathan who he’d be asking out.  He said he was considering asking me. 

          “No way!  Who are you going to ask really?”

          Confused by their reaction, Nathan asked what was wrong.

          “She’s like in her 20’s.”

          Nathan didn’t believe them.

          A group surrounded me.  The spokesman of the group asked, “How old are you?”

          I was 24 at the time. 

          Nathan’s jaw fell on the floor.  I was flattered that he had wanted to ask me.  But at the same time I thought it was very hilarious.

          All of my mom’s children had worked there at one time or another. It was a good first job for most of us – as well as some of our neighbors.

          The ice cream parlor has been folded about twenty years, I guess.  They kept the name, and continued producing ice cream at the factory.  After 79 years the brand name was retired. The factory continues to operate. But there is a different name on the packaging. But to the best of my knowledge they still keep the iconic sign where I used to work. 

seven dozen cookies and reversing roles

Roland grew up on beans and rice.    I on the other hand grew up on casseroles.  So that's what I make.  I'm fortunate that Roland loves to cook and bake and enjoys a lot more than rice and beans.  He is actually a very good cook.  Not so great at cleaning up.  But when I don't have to cook the food myself, I really don't mind.

For several years I spent a lot of time on the computer.  Roland was basically self employed and I was his secretary creating a system that would work for us - advertising through post cards, letters and keeping track of addresses sent.  And Roland would cook and bake while I was on the computer.  I actually enjoyed that system.

But with the broken economy and an unpromising future, Roland has taken on a job with a company that issues paychecks twice a month and gives us an actual amount to work with.  He works from 8-5 or 7-4 depending.  And so I am now responsible for seeing that dinner is ready when he returns.  Usually I am scrimping for creative ways to utalize whatever happens to be in the fridge.  My last two meals have consisted of turkey and vegetables.

On Monday I made a mock shepherds pie.  Roland said he had never had it before, and actually claimed that he liked it. (I rarely ever get that.  I am not a chef.  I don't choose to be.  I can follow a recipe, but it's got to be exact.  If the item I'm baking needs to be covered, it must say so in the recipe - otherwise it won't get covered)

After two days of shepherd pie and frozen leftovers, I looked for another recipe.  Turkey and zucchini lasagna.  I found a few recipes through Google.  But still changed a bit.  I would rather have Alfredo than Mariana - though I know the Mariana is better for us health wise.  So I waited another day for Roland's input.  He wanted the Mariana, but at the last minute told me to use up the Alfredo.  And so I did.

I put some oil in the bottom of the crockpot and layered it with turkey and noodles, a beet greens and zucchini mixture, rocatta cheese, noodles and back to the meat and alfredo sauce and vegtables and cheese.  Only took three hours for it to cook - and it was good.  Rich.  But good.  But still - too much for just me and Roland (Jenna refuses to allow it anywhere near her lips)  so now we have three containers of leftovers for those days I don't feel like cooking (which is actually often) 2 with turkey lasagna and 1 with Shepherd's pie.

On Monday I made 7 dozen cookies - four zucchini and three no bake.  They were all gone by Wednesday.  Can you believe that?  Granted we did share 2-3 dozen - maybe a little bit more.  But I think my Jenna may be getting pudgy.  Okay.  No more cookies for a while.  It just sounded better than bread pudding - which Roland had wanted to make.  As if he has time.

Now it is he on the computer pulling up sites to reference material.  And he is on hours at a time.

I'd like to go back to how it was before - when he was in the kitchen and I was on the computer.