HOMEMAKER OF THE YEAR

     My family will tell you (in unison and at the top of their lungs) that I am not a domestic person. I despise housework...I am not married to a house, thank you very much; I do not enjoy cooking; floors do not look dirty to me unless there is actually mud on them and dishes piled to the rafters look sort of artistic if they are piled neatly on all available counters.
     It is ironic that the only award I ever won when I attended high school was when I entered and won the Betty Crocker Homemaker of the Year award for 1956.  Actually the only reason I won was that it was a written competition and not one that involved cooking, sewing or anything physical. All I had to do was memorize a few lines, write them down and then throw them out, never to be remembered anymore.
     What I was good at was reading, writing and painting.
     In short, I'm a lazy cuss.
     When my kids were little, each Sunday we would load up the car and grace one or the other of our parents' home with our presence for dinner. Since we were each the oldest of several children, we were welcomed. It seemed the natural thing to do and the babies were heartily hugged by each grandma and grandpa and lugged around by aunts and uncles not much older than themselves. It never occurred to me that actual cooking might be involved and I got by with drying the dishes after dinner each week. I would jokingly tell my children to enjoy themselves because, I assured them, I was never planning to cook Sunday dinners for them when they were grown.
      And I've carried through with my promise. I do not cook Sunday dinners. I don't even cook holiday dinners if I can get out of it. Nor not often birthday dinners.
     I hate cooking. I would go out to eat in a restaurant or a fast-food joint three times a day if I could get by with it.
     It isn't that I'm not a good cook. I can cook well if I put my mind and my back to it. Of course it takes me days to recover and I moan and groan for weeks afterward.
     Anyway, to make a long long story a bit shorter, I will admit that now and then I do cook. On Thanksgiving. On Christmas (in fact I have an e-nor-mous dinner at Christmas time with all of my very very large family as guests spread all over my very very large house over a very very loooonnnnng day), on Easter, and sometimes around Independence Day. Not often but now and then. The food is wonderful, the camaraderie is better, I feel virtuous for three days and I hurt for a week but by golly I've earned my Betty Crocker Homemaker of the Year Award all over again.
     My family heads toward home, bearing gifts of leftover homemade hot rolls, hams and salads, sliced berries and pies, shaking their collective heads in relief that it is all over (its hard on them all too).
     And so, since I couldn't very well weasel out of it (and really, I didn't want to after all) we came together in the dining room of the old home place. Several extras were gathered there also with only three missing and one of those came in later. Two were about 6000 miles away but, thanks to Skype, and holding hands by holding onto the computer, they were included in the blessing on this rainy Easter afternoon.
     We had a wonderful day, even if I did have to cook.
     And I didn't burn a single roll.

Turkey Time...and More Important...Family!

     My feet hurt. I've been up and running around away too much today and I'm still trying to get over this bout with the flu or whatever it is I've got.
    First a week or so of just being sick, then I thought I was all over it and had that great weekend. Okay, Saturday night and Sunday I could deal with...I just got a little too tired, right? Wrong. I've still got this THING! Only yesterday it turned into a really sick stomach too. I spent most of yesterday in bed because I was afraid to move and today has been up and down and trying to get things done anyway because TOMORROW IS THANKSGIVING! And when you are Super Grandma you always have a bunch of family who are coming.       
     Well, yeah, they would stay home if I said to do so but what fun would that be? So instead two of the three and part of their families will be here and one brother and one other granddaughter who showed up out of the blue (she is sick too). Actually, husband isn't feeling too good either.
     All this sounds like fun, doesn't it?
     At least the kids are kicking in and one is bringing roasted turkey breast and broccoli casserole and mac and cheese (for the youngsters) and one is bringing the peeled and cut up potatoes ready to cook. So it makes it much easier for me. I spent the evening putting together deviled eggs and jello and mixing the filling for the pumpkin pies (I like to cook them early on the morning we are going to eat.) So all I really need to do in the morning is to bake the pies and mix up my hot rolls and cinnamon rolls and put them on to raise.
     Oh, yeah, I guess I'd better do something with some salad and vegetables too, right? But will anyone really eat them except me? And after all, I am one sick cookie, aren't I? Maybe I'll just concentrate on turkey and cinnamon rolls.
     Wow. Even with a stomach rolling around all over the place my mouth waters. When it comes to holiday time I turn into one big pig.
     But the best thing is having family here together. It is hard to gather all of us at the same time anymore and Thanksgiving doesn't even really take care of it. (Christmas is another matter. NO ONE misses Christmas.) But I'll get to have the 13 year old granddaughter for a couple of extra days and that will be nice. She doesn't get to come and stay too often now because of the school stuff. The teenage boys don't really care to be here that much and we see them all of the time but I miss Allison coming like she did when she was small and staying. And the fact that sometimes one of the older ones finds he or she can't bear to stay put while the rest of the family wines and dines and visits (even though sickness is raging on campus and in particular in a certain bedroom) is just an added surprise and pleasure. Hot herb tea and grandma and grandpa go a long way toward making you feel better when you are no longer eight hours away.
      So even if my poor tummy rebels from too much turkey it won't matter. I have special people here and that's the most important thing of all.
     I give thanks every day for what I have...and who I have.
     And lets hope this stomach settles down by tomorrow! Gobble, gobble, gobble!

Eating Out:: Always an Adventure

     Today was another day for running around like a chicken with its head chopped off. (For those who don't understand the term, I'll explain at the end.)
     In other words, I had errands from 10 this morning until 3:30 this afternoon. I was dropping when I got home, thought I'd lie down a bit and for ten minutes all I could do was dwell on more things I needed to do so I got up and did them and forgot all about the nap. Well, at least I was home.
     I really shouldn't gripe, no matter how tired I get. The weather is so fine, autumn brilliant and sun-shiny. Breezes blow and the temperature isn't hot nor is it cold. For the first part of October it is just about perfect and I do enjoy getting out in it. Soon cold November will settle in and I won't want to leave the house and the furnace for anything, even food.
     Speaking of food, I discovered a special little spot today that I've overlooked up until now. 
     First I headed into town where I got sheared (badly needed) and as it was just nearing noon, I tried to think of someplace different to stop for lunch. Monett is not the most adventurous spot in the world for cuisine and everything sounded boring. Suddenly I thought of a little place in Pierce City that at one time had been good so as I was heading in that direction anyway I decided to give it a try.
     Uh-oh. Closed down, a victim of the current money problems, no doubt.
     Now what?
     Just next door was a little drug store with an old-fashioned soda fountain. There were plenty of cars parked around it and I was left with little to choose from anyway so, what the heck? A hamburger would be better than nothing.
     I pulled into place before the windows. I could see the few tables and bar stools were pretty full but upon walking in I managed to find a spot right next to the cash register. I perched on top of a stool and looked all around, admiring the decor.
     My attention, however, quickly turned to the plates being prepared by the pretty girls in front of me. Oooh . . . each one looked delicious.
     To make a long story short, I chose the special for the day, French Onion soup with yummy mozzarella cheese and and enormous plate of spinach salad full of grilled chicken, sliced strawberries, mandarin oranges, pecans, and bacon, all topped with wonderful sweet poppy-seed dressing.
     I'm ashamed to say I ate every last bite.
     It is now eight at night and I'm still not hungry. To those of you who know me, that is some kind of miracle..
     Now, Pierce City is just a very small town with not too much going for it. But if you by some chance are driving through one day and it is lunch time, my advice it to stop and sit a spell and have a bite to eat at the little drug store. It isn't hard to find . . . it is the only one in town from the looks of things . . . right on the main drag (and do NOT drive more than thirty down that drag either).
     You'll be glad you did.
     Just to finish part of my day I'll tell you I drove on westward to pick up some lovely homemade bread from the Country Cupboard Bake Shop, located between Stark City and Newtonia. Lovely people own it who make fabulous jams, jellies, breads and sell a large variety of wonderful food items as well as some specialties, e.g., aprons, spices, doilies etc.I'm ashamed to say I don't know if they are Mennonite or Amish, Mennonite I believe. I must ask the next time I'm there. Not that it matters. Lovely people no matter.
     By no means all of my day but since so much of my life revolves around food, it is fun to share this much.
     Oh, yes, the chicken. When you kill a chicken for food, you must either chop the head off with a hatchet or wring its neck by holding the head and spinning the body around until it becomes detached from the body. The body will jerk and twist for two or three minutes as the nerves adjust to death before it quiets, hence: running around like a chicken with its head cut off.
     Now, isn't that food for thought?