Birthday No-Show

Well I was a no-show at my brothers birthday party or whatever it was today.  Honestly I thought it started at 6 and it started at 5, by the time I remembered about going I would have been over an hour late.  I would rather not show up if I am going to be that late.  Anyway my family cooked on the grill and we had a wonderful meal of deer sausage and french fries.  My husband likes sauerkraut and horseradish so that is what he had with his.  I will say this, that husband of mine sure can cook on the grill,

My brother's birthday

     Well my brother's birthday was the 6th and I did not go to see him.  He is having a party, or I guess you could call it a party.  He is having quite a few friends over for a chili cook-off or something to that effect.  The get together starts around 6:00 and ends when everyone leaves I guess.  I will go but I will not be staying long.  I have a six-year-old and I want her to be on a schedule that has her going to bed at a reasonably time. 

     He may not understand but then he and his wife do not have any children.  If he does not understand well that is something I will have to live with.  My number one priority is my family and by that I mean my husband and my daughter.  They are the most important people to me and that will never change. 

 

     The picture at the top of this post was not taken at my brothers house, it was taken at the local state park.  I put it in the post simply because I want a picture of some type on every post that I make in a blog.  That was not always the case but it is now.  I will probably post some pictures without any writing at all.  I guess time will tell.  Enjoy

Bact to school at 40+

    

 

 

     It has been a while since I have written anything that is purely of the top of my head so here I go.

 

     At the beginning of the 2013-2014 school year I did something that I never thought I would have the courage to do.  I went back to school.  I have to be honest it was hard at first, I mean here I am going back to school after being out over 20 years (yes that means I'm in my 40's).  I would be lying if I said it was something that did not scare me.

     The first week was by far the hardest.  I say that because I did not know where some of the places were at that I needed to go to.  One of my classes was in a room that was inside another room.  That was confusing so say the least.  The thing that was really confusing was the fact that two weeks into the class the college changed instructors of the class, and to top it off the new teacher came in the day we were suppose to have our first test.  To her credit she did not give us the test, she said that she felt it was unfair give us a test and we were unfamiliar with the way she expected the class to be run.

   Well I did not do well on all of the test but I can say that I passed the course with two points to spare.  I can say I learned a lot in that class and I am not talking about the math part.  Ms Arquize would say things that meant a lot to me and she would take the time to explain some problems if she realized that I did not understand. 

    One day she walked in and her class had shrunk down to twelve people, now keep in mind the class was originally around forty.  Anyway she walked in and stated, "This is my class.  Many are called but few are chosen, you are the chosen few that are here to learn.  You are not here to simply sit in a classroom, you are not here to waste my time, you are here to learn."

     When she said that it really made me feel good about myself.  The next semester I had another math class that I had to take and this time was so much different than it was the first time.  This time I felt better prepared for the class.  A part of me feels like I have a heads up in this class that the others simply do not have because of the previous math teacher I had.  I have been told that if you can pass her class the next class will be a breeze and so far I can say what I have heard is accurate.  I may have passed her class with only two points to spare I think I will pass the class I am taking now with out much of a problem.  Now I may be wrong, and It may end up being a lot harder, but that does not matter I know that if I work hard I can do it, because many are called but few are chosen

    

Grandma's Chicken and Dumplings

           I was looking at the calendar the other day when I noticed that it was about time for what I call family reunion season to start.  Family reunions can be so much fun, you get to see family you haven’t seen in years and catch up.  But the one thing that all family reunions have in common is good food and lots of it.

            I went to family reunions years ago with my grandmother, and she always brought her famous chicken and dumplings.  I say famous because everyone in the family knew that she made the best.  Her pot of chicken and dumplings was usually empty before half the people got through the line. 

            There was one year, however, when I thought we were going to bring the pot home untouched.   You see, that year someone else tried their hand at making my grandmothers famed dish.    They even went so far as to place their pot of dumplings next to hers.  

            It didn’t take long before word got around that one of those pots was not my grandmother’s.  Half the family had gone through the line without as much as a sample of either one.  Nobody in the family wanted dumplings that were not made by my grandmother, and they had no way of knowing which pot was hers.  That was until my grandmother reached the dumplings.

            I don’t think she had any idea how many people were watching her when she reached for the spoon that was in her pot of dumplings.  If by some chance she did know, she covered it well. 

            After she helped herself to a hearty portion, the person directly behind her, one of her nephews as I recall, leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I made sure to get behind you when I got in line so I’d get your dumplings.”

            She turned around and gave him the smile she usually reserved for her grandchildren.  Her voice was full of joy when she said, “Well you just help yourself.”  He easily smiled back as he took the spoon she handed him. 

            Thinking back, after my grandmother handed him that spoon I don’t think it was out of anyone’s hand until the pot was empty, and even then several people went back to scrape the pot, including my great-grandmother. 

            Making Chicken and Dumplings was a labor of love to my grandmother.  She always made it from scratch and only used certain ingredients.  Never did she use chicken broth in a can or premade dumplings.  She always made the broth herself by boiling the largest hen she could find, (and it had to be a hen). 

            The dumplings she made were always rolled by hand until they were so thin you could see through them. To make it any other way would have been an insult to Southern tradition. 

            My grandmother was born and raised in the South and came from a generation steeped in Southern cooking tradition.  It’s sad to say but there are a lot of the cooking shows on TV today, and they have many people thinking that the only way you can cook is if you go to culinary school, and learn how to plate a dish.  I’m sorry; I don’t really care what the food looks like on a plate.  Food is to be eaten, not looked at and put on display.  

            Unfortunately as my grandmother got older it became harder and harder for her to make chicken and dumplings and in her last years she didn’t make them at all and it was sorely missed by everyone in the family.  I have tried several times to duplicate her recipe, and I have come close, very close.  

            There is an old saying always copied never duplicated.  That is definitely my grandmother’s chicken and dumplings.

A Blue ribbon Flag at the fair

            When I was twelve years old my mother taught me how to do something that many people today say is a talent-how to crochet.

            I never thought of it as a talent, and quite honestly, I still don’t.  I think of it as something I was taught to do, and I never really forgot.  I guess the closest thing I can think of to describing it is that it’s like riding a bicycle; once you learn you never really forget. 

             Since learning how to crochet, I have made many afghans,  but there is ones that I am especially proud of.  It’s an American flag afghan.  The reason I made it was to enter it into the Southeastern Agricultural Fair, that is held in Florence every year.

            I made American flag afghan’s in the past, but I was never really happy with the way some of them turned out.  One had too many holes, while another one was lopsided in shape.  I wanted this flag to be as close to perfect as I could get it.

            I spent weeks looking for what I considered the right shade of red, white and blue.   I could not find a flag pattern that I was happy with, so I combined several patterns that I already had and turned them into what I considered to be the right one. 

            It took me just over six months to finish my flag.  I remember looking at it with pride when my husband said something that made me realize the afghan was not finished.  He asked, “Do you know how it’s going to be displayed?”

            I have to admit I had no idea how the flag would be displayed.  I researched and discovered that the proper way to display the American flag is to have the star field in the upper left hand corner. 

            I had to make 50 more stars so that the blue on both sides of the flag would have stars on it.  This way no matter how the flag was displayed it would be right.

            Confident with my flag, I headed down to Florence to enter my afghan and several other items I had made for the Southeastern Agricultural Fair.  When I got there I had no idea how to enter my items because I had never done it before.  I spoke to several of the other participants that had entered items in previous years, and they told me what to do and assured me that it was not hard at all.  They were right, and after entering my items, I went home and told my husband, who responded with a smile, “You will win a Blue Ribbon.”

            My family and I went to the fair the coming weekend.  To be honest I was nervous.  A part of me wanted to see if I had a blue ribbon attached to the flag I had worked so hard to make, and another part of me didn’t want to see in the off chance that I did not have any ribbon at all on it.

            I walked to where the handmade goods were displayed, and at first I did not see my flag, and my heart sank.  Then as I walked a little further and spotted it.  There it was in display for everyone to see, and yes, my husband was right; I did win the blue ribbon.

            I don’t know who was happier, my husband or me.  It does not really matter; we both knew that when the fair was over and I brought the flag home, it would be placed in a special place in our home.

            And it is- my blue ribbon and my American flag afghan are the first thing you see when you walk through my front door.  Every time I look at it I am filled with pride as an American and at my accomplishment.  

            I have no idea what I can make that will top making the American flag.  I have considered making the state flag, but that will have to wait until next year. 

            I do know one thing.  Whatever I do make it will be something different and totally unpredictable. 

Dinner and a movie with Dad

           On my sixteenth birthday my dad and I started a birthday tradition.  He took me out for the dinner and movie of my choice and I did the same for him on his birthday.

            Sometimes the birthday meal was a trip to a steakhouse and sometimes it was at a buffet restaurant, one year it was a simple roast beef sandwich from a fast food restaurant.   It really wasn’t important where we ate, or what movie we were going to see.  The important thing was that this was a special time that was just me and my dad.   My birthday date with Dad whether it was my birthday or his was a day that I think both of us looked forward to year after year.

            When I got married several years ago and our traditional birthday dinner and a movie date seemed to fade away.  I always managed to take my dad out to eat for his birthday, but taking him out to see a movie somehow was forgotten of indefinitely delayed, especially after my daughter was born.

            This year is going to be different.  I am taking my dad out for his birthday and we are going to have a nice meal in whatever restaurant he wants to go to watch the movie of his choice. 

            It was no surprise that when I spoke to my dad several weeks before his birthday that he was quick to tell me what movie he wanted to see. “We’re going to see the Lone Ranger for my birthday this year aren’t we?” 

           There was a light in his eyes and in his voice when he said it, and I knew he was looking forward to it as much as I was.  I think he was glad that this year the movie that was our birthday tradition would not be forgotten like it has been the past few years.

            I really don’t know the reason why my dad likes the Lone Ranger the way that he does.  Maybe it’s the western theme that takes him back to his childhood or maybe it’s the story of the last ranger that survived an ambush, I don’t know, all I do know is that for as long as I can remember my dad has liked the Lone Ranger.   He even had a truck that he painted grey and had the words “The Lone Ranger” painted on the side.  I would not call him a diehard fan, I mean he does not have Lone Ranger memorabilia all over his house, but he does enjoy watching the classic television episodes with Clayton Moore in the role of The Lone Ranger and Jay Silverheels as Tonto.

             The Lone Ranger movie that came out this year over the Fourth of July weekend opened to mixed reviews.  The movie may be the best I’ve ever seen or it may be the worst I’ll ever see.  I really don’t know nor do I care.   The real reason I’m going to watch the movie is not because Johnny Depp is playing Tonto, and it’s not because it’s a Disney movie.            I’m going to watch the Lone Ranger movie with my dad because it’s what he wants to see on his birthday. 

            When I think about the Lone Ranger movie years from now I am not going to remember if it was a blockbuster at the box office or a flop.  I’m going to remember the wonderful birthday dinner and a movie date I had with my dad.  I am going to make a memory that I will be able to cherish for years to come, and I think that is a lot more important than what some Hollywood movie critic has to say about a movie that they aren’t impressed with. 

 

 

The Rainbow Bridge

Just this side of Heaven lies the Rainbow Bridge.

When a beloved pet dies, it goes to the rainbow bridge.  It makes friends with other animals and frolics over rolling hills and peaceful lush meadows of green.  They are as healthy and playful as we remember them in days gone by.

Together, the animals chase and play, but the day comes when a pet will suddenly stop and look into the distance…bright eyes intent, eager body quivering.  Suddenly recognizing you, your pet bounds quickly across the green fields and into your embrace.  You celebrate in joyous reunion.  You will never again separate.

Happy tears and kisses are warm and plentiful; your hands caress the face you missed.  You look into the loving eyes of your pet and know that you never really parted.  You realize that though out of sight, your love had been remembered.

You cross the bridge together, never to be parted again.