Sunday, July 2, 2023

🎆 2023 July FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

 🎆🎆🎆 

We are more than half-way through this year!!  Soon the fireworks will be sounding letting us know of the freedom others have fought so hard to keep for us.  I won’t go on my soapbox about how I feel when someone starts complaining about this country, but I will tell you what I usually say to them if they spout off to me----“There is no one insisting you have to stay living here.”  And, to hear someone from another country complain, makes me livid.  I usually tell them how many shed blood for them to have the freedom to say what they have just said, or I tell them, “No one is keeping you from returning to the country you left.  Planes and ships leave every day.”  O.K. I’ll put away the soapbox I said I wouldn’t stand on.  God, bless America.

Brenduhh came over all in a huff.  “Trute, I got a ticket for going the wrong way on a one way street!  I wasn’t going the wrong way; I was going only one way.  The policeman in the other car was going the wrong way because the street was only wide enough for one car!!”  Sometimes trying to understand her reasoning is like trying to smell the color 9.  Then, she followed with, “Trute, do you know why 10 is afraid of 7?”  “No why is that, Brenduhh?” I queried.  “It’s because seven ate nine.”  Oh gods, she’s on a roll, y’all.  Then she told me, “Yesterday I told something to my husband.  He wasn’t happy with what I said and told me, ‘NO!!! and that’s no enzymes or buts!’  I have no idea what he was talking about.”  I told her, “I think you incorrectly heard him.  It’s ‘no ifs, ands, or buts’ meaning, his ‘NO!!” was the answer and he wasn’t going to discuss why with you.”  She still had the “What???” look on her face. 

I’ve discovered that I usually go through five mental stages of awakening in the morning---denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.  There’s really another stage, but it’s verbal.  It’s, “Ohhhh, ugggghh, ummphff, yeesh; come on joints and bones, get with it and move!!”

I found a recipe for cream of chicken soup.  It’s wonderful!!                               ¾ C. low sodium chicken broth; ¼ tsp poultry seasoning; ¼ tsp garlic powder; 1/8 tsp black pepper; ¼ tsp salt; 1/8 tsp dried parsley; pinch of paprika; ½ C milk or half & half; ¼ C all-purpose flour.  In a medium saucepan, bring the broth and seasonings to a simmer.  In a small bowl, whisk together the flour and milk until incorporated and smooth.  Slowly pour in the milk and flour mixture and whisk until it starts to thicken in about 2-3 minutes.  You could stir in shredded chicken and sautéed onions and celery, if you’d like. 

During my teaching career, I had some interesting requests from parents.  Here is one for your enjoyment:  The young man was a senior in high school.  He decided to be disrespectful to me in my class, call me a few choice names, and refuse to do what I’d instructed him to do.  His behavior was an immediate pass to the dean’s office and a referral which would garner him time with me in Saturday morning detention.  A meeting was called by the dean which consisted of him, his mother, the deans, the security officer, and me.  We discussed what he had done and said.  The mother asked me to rescind my referral.  She said it would interfere with his opportunity of joining the Marines.  She, also, informed all of us that the Marines were not as tough as my discipline, and I was being unreasonable; but, the Marines were not unreasonable at boot camp.  The security officer about fell off his chair when she said all that.  He was a retired police officer from the K-9 division and had been a sergeant in the Marines.

Three very good friends and chefs, Brock Oli, Kohl Rahbee, and Sal Add decided to open a restaurant.  It was a vegetarian one.

The phone rang and a male voice said, “Grandma, this is your oldest grandson.  I’ve been in an accident.  I’m in jail and the assistant district attorney told me I’d need $9,000 to get out.  Please help me.”  I listened as he went on in a voice imitating physical discomfort and anguish.  I knew he was not my oldest grandson and decided to play with his mind, the little he had.   I told him, “Oh that is awful.  Let me see what I can do for you.”  He told me where to send the money.  I said, “I have twin grandsons who are my oldest grandsons.  Which one are you so I can write your name on the money order?”  There was silence, a click, then a dial tone.  I guess he didn’t know who he was.

My heart was heavy as I walked in the front door of my dear friend Aint Daisy’s house.  She noticed right away.  “Chile, ye have somethin’ heavy on yer heart, ain’t that right?” she stated as I sat down on the flowered, overstuffed seat on her couch.  “Yes, I do, and I’m sorry to bring it with me on my visit to you.  I just can’t seem to get over the death of someone I cared a lot about.”  There was some silence as she rocked back and forth in her favorite rocking chair.  I knew she was thinking and going to console me.  “I read a piece by a feller named Aeschylus.  I don’t really know who he was, but he must have been smart a-cause he said, ‘Even in our sleep, pain which can not forget falls drop by drop upon the heart.’  I’ve experienced the passing of people I cared a lot about.  The pain o’ grief brings wisdom and experience.  Grief is the dues we pay for a-caring and  a-loving.  It never goes away; it jess gets tolerable little by little.  So, child, do not begrudge yer grief.  It teaches that nothin’ is permanent, not even grief.”  ‘More wisdom from the lady of the holler.  I’m so glad I have her in my life.

As I was lying in my comfy, warm bed on a dreary day, I kept telling myself it was time to get up and get busy being a Dolly Domestic diva.  The radio was on and the song I DON'T WANT TO DO ANYTHING (THE LAZY SONG by Bruno Mars) came on.  Gods!!!  How did they know that was my theme song at that moment?

I like to cook and have been doing it for a long time.  I’ve come across some measurements which are no necessarily in a cookbook terminology section.  They come handed down by good cooks and come with practice.  Here they are:          A dash: is roughly 1/8 teaspoon.
A pinch: based on the amount of spice you can literally "pinch" between your fingers, is around 1/16    teaspoon.
A smidgen: is approximately 1/32 teaspoon. It's often used when the recipe creator is trying to add the  tiniest note of flavor to a dish.
A skosh: just a bit or a smidgen, but not much. (That's about as clear as strong coffee, huh?)
A tad:  about as much as a skosh, but a bit more.
A slice:  wel-l-l-l, that is determined by how much you want.  A slice of my favorite pie, to me, is a lot larger  than a slice of avocado, which I don't really like.
A handful:  Oh gosh, this is immeasurable to me.  Look at your hand.  Now, look at the size of someone else's hand.  They're not really the same size, so the measurement of "a handful" is going to be different. A handful of M & Ms is a lot different than a handful of peas, isn't it?
Seasoning to taste: leaves the home cook in control of the final dish.

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