The Saga of the Pie

Several insights while baking this year's pecan pie for Thanksgiving. 

First, I think this may be the best pie I've baked for a while and as I have mentioned before, I think it is the upgraded technology in the kitchen. The oven is new and it just functions better than the 35 year old oven we had been using. Duh - I know. But wow - this pie is gorgeous and perfect. Some of the perfection started early though when the pie crust went together easily and rolled out well. So - a perfect Thanksgiving pecan pie. 

Secondly, we had a piece tonight. Several years ago I made pies on Wednesday before Thanksgiving and refused Dean a piece as the pies were for the next day. He became really upset and told me that was cruel and unusual punishment. So this year, because there are only three of us, we got a piece tonight and more tomorrow.

And thirdly, he made chicken pot pie filling for individual pies which we had for supper. Yum!!

Run Home to Mama 2

As I was preparing to write, I saw that my last blog had been about being the mother of an adult daughter. This is about being the grandmother of an adult grandson. "Run home to mama" is often the phrase my family uses when we revert to any skill or behavior we learned in the theatre. This week it became literal for me as I found myself back in time of life I thought was gone.

Grandson Kyle, who is almost 25, is living with us for a while. He is fun, capable, talented and to the point of this blog, a good driver. That trait allowed me to offer my 4-wheel drive car to him when the snow came and he had to go to class and work on the south shore. His car is big and heavy and 2-wheel drive. He has chains but 4-wheel drive is better.

And . . . most importantly, Kyle was raised in southern California. What does he know about driving in snow?

The storm came. Hard. Blowing snow limited visibility. Oh golly.

I had no concerns about my car. My concern was for Kyle and his facing all those others who may not know a lot more about driving in snow than he does. All I could do was ask him to please, please, text me when he got to class.

He did. Phew. And then let me know he was told not to come in to work because of the snow. I was very grateful to have him walk in the door about 7:15.

I'm fine now. He made it. He can do it. My cellular memory can return to its dormant state and I can go back to being Mama Susan who just happens to have a grandson living with her. For a while there though, I ran home to my earlier experience of being a mom when my daughters would drive around the country. Glad to back in the present.

Thoughts When an Adult Daughter is Sick

Michelle is in the hospital. Her family has their own routine. I am recovering from the stomach flu so even if they needed me, I wouldn’t be with them. It is good to be able to let them go as it were and turn them over the care and keeping of the hospital staff and each other. 

What I realize though, as I wait for word of how she is doing “now”, is that a mother can just sit. Were I there, I would sit ~ over in a corner of the room with a book or crossword puzzle and just sit. If I was needed, I would be there. If Michelle wanted to talk, I would be there. If not, I would be there, just sitting. And that way I would know how she was doing and what was happening with every temperature or BP check. 

I guess I would tire of that eventually, and for now, from here, while I wait for word, I wish I was able to sit in a corner and do my waiting there. 

Mindful Eating

Those of you who read this from FaceBook know that I have just gone through a bout of the stomach flu. I spent about 48 hours when my only food intake was water. Then I decided to try some beef broth. The taste of that simple broth was amazing. It’s warmth infused my body. There was a salty tang and a richness that under normal conditions I would not have noticed. That got me to thinking about noticing our food. 

Many of you post pictures of delicious meals you have prepared or ordered and so I know you enjoy your food. We all have those moments though when we grab a bite and keep running. And yet, even running bites deserve  to be tasted, even savored. We have taste buds for a reason: so we can and will enjoy our food. Given that this train of thought started with broth, I am thinking of simple tastes as well as elaborate gourmet meals:

~ the sweetness of morning cereal or danish contrasted with the crisp saltiness of the bacon

~ the way all the flavors in a salad stand out when tossed with just a touch of dressing

~ the coolness of ice cream as it melts across a warm piece of pie

The Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh speaks of the mindfulness of eating and enjoying the taste of his milk and bread at breakfast. I enjoy my food. I eat slowly and with that enjoyment. Whether I continue to be as mindful of the tastiness of it all as I am today remains to be seen. For now, I am grateful for clean water and for the flavors that followed as I moved back into my normal eating patterns. Be mindful at your next meal. You may be delighted at what you discover. 

A Special Halloween Celebration

I heard on a local NPR program that there is going to be a huge Mexican community celebration of the Day of the Dead in Sacramento this weekend. I do not know the Spanish for the event so not sure if it translates perfectly. The woman describing it talked about booths and family gatherings. They will choose one particular person to remember, bring that person’s favorite food and eat with them and talk about them and to them and tell family stories. It sounds delightful. The interviewer asked her whom she had chosen to remember this year and I thought, what a good question. 

Who would I like to remember and talk about this year? My Uncle Bill.

Uncle Bill was a favorite. When we would visit my mom’s North Carolina family, I would wait eagerly for Uncle Bill to return from work so I could follow him down the hill to “help” him work in his garden. He grew corn, tomatoes, beans and I am sure other vegetables. I loved helping. When little I sometimes became tired of eating them over and over again. 

He had a corner  in the living that included his big comfortable chair, his radio on a shelf on one side of the chair and a lamp and books and papers on the other. I loved to sit on his lap and be told stories or listen to the radio even when it was a program I didn’t really understand - like the news when I was very young. 

When I was ready to hop down and move on, Uncle Bill would always say, “I’ll see you in the funny papers” and I would laugh and laugh. That was the funniest thing I had ever heard, even if I had just heard it a few hours before. 

When Uncle Bill had to move to a retirement home, I visited him whenever I could. He was blind and deaf and he never lost his zest for life or his sense of humor. We were walking down the hall to lunch one day and as a woman approached us, he introduced me. As we moved on, I asked him how he knew who it was. “She wears a very distinctive perfume,” he replied. 

Uncle Bill and my father died within hours of each other on the same day. Two very special men in my life whom it is fun to remember with love. 

Where is a Cop . . .?

You know how you say, “Where is a cop when we need one?” Well, I am here to tell you, in Quincy, CA when you have thrown a wheel on the camper you are pulling. We had driven by an officer following a CalTrans truck picking up cones and road work signs. After we threw the wheel, the CalTrans truck drove by and I wondered if the officer might just be following him. I turned around and there he was, pulling in behind us. He checked things over, called the tow truck, suggested Les Schwab, made a few other  good suggestions to Dean and was joined by another officer. 

Their conversation was interesting. I didn’t hear it all but the first thing I overheard was, “Oh, I put her in jail last week.” Other snippets included hopes that “she” would get help, get clean and do better. The tow truck arrived. Jake was very competent and went about his work - after some masculine chit chat because they hadn’t seen each other in what? All of 20 minutes? I love small towns. 

First officer left. Officer Connelly (I did remember to get his name) stayed with us until the camper was loaded and we all knew what we were doing. When I told him we lived in Tahoe City, he said he lived in Truckee and “we are neighbors.” We all departed the road side at the same time with expressions of gratitude on our part.

The good news: Les Schwab could repair the camper. The bad news: not last night. That was ok with me. I was ready to get home. We will return to Quincy in a day or two, have lunch at our favorite little restaurant there, and bring a well-repaired camper home. Last night we slept in our own bed thanks to the help of two cops who were right there when we needed them! 

And as we left Quincy, both officers were working an accident and Jake was climbing out of his tow truck again ~ all three where they needed to be. 

Name Your Discovery

Owlet and Puck spent the night in camp with us. After breakfast, they headed out to explore the empty lake bed - Emigrant Lake is way down given the northwest drought. While on their hiking around, they discovered all sorts of geological landmarks, visible now that the water level is down. They named them all. Later in the morning, they took Grandpa and Mama Susan with them to show us all the landmarks.

First was a long rock that they named the SS Lizard. 

They built a cairn to mark the spot.

Next was Earth's Well.

The Stump, marked with a stick Owlet had carried for a while.

The Thing: the yucky piece of the boat mentioned in the last blog was found

here. Upside down mountain is a reflection of course. 

X marks the spot.

Jack Rabbit Hill, so named because they saw their first ever jack rabbit

hopping up this hill. 

The Snake Bridge to Nowhere.

The Resting Rock, spring 2014.

The Resting Rock, fall 2015. Wow, the difference

18 months makes.