Showing posts with label food issues. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food issues. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

MotherAunt and SisterCousin






















Some of my favorite memories involve my aunts. Connie and Judy are my mother's sisters and have been a constant presence in my life. They used to babysit me, take me along on their dates, dress me up like a doll, etc. Note to Aunt Connie and Aunt Judy: Feel free to buy me pretty dresses any time.) The first time I got on a plane was to visit my Aunt Cess and her family. (Note to Aunt Cess: I still love to visit you and my cousins.) I still have frequent conversations with all of them.

The ladies posing in front of the tree are/were another generation of my mother's side of this wacky family. I can say that because I am also wacky. Front and center in this circa 1988 photo is Zelma (Bobbie,) my grandmother great aunt. Like many families, it was not uncommon for more than one sister to participate in rearing another's child/children. Grandma (on the left) gave birth to my mother and her sisters but Bobbie raised them.

Aunt Ann (next to Grandma) is the baby. She's always had the legs of a woman half her age. She and Uncle Harry have always lived nearby -- sometimes just down the street. Aunt Ann's daughters were my idols when I was in grade school. I didn't want to be like them -- I actually wanted to be them. Since I couldn't accomplish that, I would copy their mannerisms, their clothes, etc. I get to see them this weekend and I can't wait. No one laughs or makes me laugh like my Aunt Ann.

Aunt Jo (other side of Bobbie) died several years ago. I can't say I knew her well but she and my grandmother were thick as thieves. They might have been thieves for all I know; they walked a little bit on the wild side. Like my grandmother, Aunt Jo had some assistance from a sister in raising some of her children.

Aunt Hazel and Uncle Bob's (far right) youngest child is about my age. I used to go over for sleepovers with her. Aunt Hazel declared me, "Best Eater." Her children all had issues with vegetables or phobias about one food touching another on the plate. I was taught to eat whatever was put in front of me, especially at someone else's house. I'll have to let Aunt Hazel know that I still am a pretty good eater. It helps that all of the women of this generation are/were amazing cooks. Most, if not all, of their daughters are too.

Aunt Wanda and Aunt Grace died before the photo above was taken but I still have vivid memories of them too.

From a family of 13 children, (most of them pictured in the photo above taken in 1934) a large and blended family has emerged. I see parts of personalities that remained true their entire lives. Bobbie is sitting in a proper and ladylike way on the porch. She remained a pillar of strength and ladylike kindness her entire life. Grandma is sitting alone at the other end of the porch on the swing. She often removed herself from people and situations.

Each generation since then has become a little more fragmented but many of us are closer than ever. Can you imagine the two people sitting on that porch swing in the 1934 photo (my great grandparents) being told that in a few short generations, their offspring would travel by plane or communicate regularly through computers and cell phones. What if someone had told them that I would learn of my cousin's new job through a text message? While posing with their children, imagine if someone had told them that in 2009, their great granddaughter would take 10 seconds to scan this photo and write about their legacy.

Some people have mothers who they find out later is really grandmother. Some people have sistercousins and brothercousins. Some people go far into adulthood before finding out that mother is really auntmother. Our family has some of those mixed relationships. For the most part we don't hide it; we embrace it. There's enough love to go around and then some.

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

Have I Eaten Today?

I am not a foodie; I have other vices.

This topic freaks people out so I apologize.

This is the time of year that I cook a lot. And, I truly enjoy it. Then I realize that I'm cooking -- not eating. The other night I was elbow deep in food prep for Christmas Eve. The husband announced, "We haven't eaten since lunch yesterday." (He's not a foodie either.) So, although I was surrounded by food, I ordered a pizza.

I used to blame this on the oldies because their obsession with food kills any appetite I may have. But, it's unfair to them. They're not the only people who destroy my appetite. I avoid buffets like flies avoid swatters. People load up like they're storing calories for hibernation. My friend Jan and I have learned to find the table in the corner of the restaurant so we don't have to watch other people eat. It's a quirk that works for both of us.

My mother tells the story of me coming home from school or dance practice and I would sit with some lettuce and a salt shaker. Love it! The other night, I went to bed and then realized I was hungry. I got up and had a grapefruit.

Overwhelming food choices make me -- well, overwhelmed. Right now I have lots of leftovers so I'm grazing. But yes, I am eating.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Another Crisis Averted

We woke up this morning to a snow covered world. Somewhere between two and four inches, depending on where you live. I love the snowy view, especially when I don't have to go anywhere and I can just look out the window.

Then the mother-in-law informed me that Hangdog has a doctor's appointment and they're going to venture out. She prefaced it by saying, "I know this will upset you but ..." Here's a news flash -- "upset" doesn't begin to describe it. I said, "No!" I considered, "Go to your room and stay there until I tell you it's ok to come out." I also considered stealing and hiding her keys.

This is not a necessary appointment. He is legally blind and it's an eye appointment. He is not going to regain his sight by this routine appointment. Nor is his progress (or lack thereof) going to be affected by rescheduling this appointment.

So, I decided to go with begging and a little guilt. "What if someone crashes into you?" and "What if you hit an icy patch in the parking lot and one of you falls?" and "Why do you want me to worry all day?"

They had to discuss it but thankfully, he was the voice of reason.

There was also some slight worry about not having anything for breakfast but once I proved that we had sausage, eggs, bread, milk, biscuits and juice, she relaxed. For once, I'm thrilled that she's frying up breakfast. At least she's not on the road.

An addendum: She did catch the package of sausage on fire.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

An Oldies Thing

There are certain things that I am convinced simply happen due to aging. I call them, "Oldies Things." Oldies things are not possessions; they are quirks and bizarre behaviors. I am comfortably settled in middle age but I watch and notice. I am developing some of these tics. Are you?

Here are a few I've noticed lately. And no, I will not tell you which ones I am also experiencing.

Wrapping everything in tissues, rubber bands, Ziploc bags or all of the above.
Repeating the same stories.
The daily diatribe about aches and pains.
Spending days on end without leaving home.
An insane focus on medications.
Constant discussions of bodily functions (and applause when the plumbing is working.)
A complete lack of interest in technological changes.
Routine. Routine. Routine.
The inability to remember your children, grandchildren, in-laws or siblings' names.
The inability to remember that a cell phone works differently than a land line.
Everyone and everything is involved in a conspiracy.
Food is the sole focus of the day.
Kids, dogs, drop-in guests make you crazy.
The weather channel and the Game Show Network are your favorites.
A never-ending compulsion with, "What's the date today AND what time is it?"
It's always cold.
Entitlements from everyone are expected: The government, children and more.

Just as I clamp my tongue between my teeth like Wild Bill, I catch myself wondering, "Is this my future?"

Saturday, October 13, 2007

One More Day

Tomorrow is D-Day.

The husband returns from his trip tomorrow. The baby will join us for brunch or lunch tomorrow before heading back to campus.

And, the oldies will be back.

I called the other day to wish the Unabomber a happy birthday. Then I talked to the mother-in-law. At the end of our conversation she said, "We'll see you on Sunday!" Thanks for the warning.

I'm anxious to see the husband although he will gripe about the piles and clutter. Even though he kicks me, I still sleep better when he's here. I can't wait to see the baby and give him a hug.

The kitchen is aired out -- it no longer smells like bacon or fried stuff. The refrigerator is clean. Bye bye herring in REAL sour cream and other foods that gag me. I've made a dent in the pantry.

I've had a good run. This time tomorrow, life will return to our version of normal. I should probably plan a meal but there's a very good chance that won't happen.

On Monday, it's guaranteed she will restock the frig and the pantry.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Herring in REAL Sour Cream

One of the last things the mother-in-law said to me before they left on their big adventure was, "I know you'll go through and throw things away."

You betcha!

I tackled the refrigerators yesterday. I threw away half sandwiches, carry-out Chinese food, leftover casseroles and soup, Head Cheese, and my personal favorite: Herring in REAL sour cream. (No, I did not throw up on the kitchen floor but I wanted to.)

The husband hates leftovers unless it's something with a shelf life, like chili or a really good soup. I give leftovers a 24-hour window. If we didn't eat it for dinner, it might become my lunch the next day. After that, it's out of here.

The oldies must have some secret stock in aluminum foil and plastic wrap. They will save 1/2 a slice of bread with 2 spoonfuls of a casserole. No one ever eats it. But we spend the time and the resources to wrap it up.

Next, I'm on to the pantry.

Sunday, July 22, 2007

You Might Be an Oldie

You might be an oldie if ...

You take your weight in medications.

You spend more time in bed than out of it.

It's 90 degrees and you're cold.

You feel entitled to anything free from the government.

You don't have email and you don't know how to check voicemail.

Knowing where your cell phone is doesn't seem very important.

Your social list is doctor's appointments.

When you get your hair done, you go to the "beauty parlor."

"What are we having for dinner?" is the focus of the day.

Getting dressed is optional.

The mail is a HUGE deal.

Every story starts with, "When I was young ..."

You don't understand what your kids do for a living.

You can't hear and you can't see but you're not interested anyway.

You regularly call your children and/or grandchildren by the wrong name.

You're not worried about global warming or social security running out. It won't be in your lifetime.

Your laptop is not a computer. It's where you balance dessert.

Are you an oldie?

Wednesday, April 25, 2007

Food Issues

I will be the first to admit that I have food issues. There are certain smells that nauseate me. I have a problem with portions, i.e. someone eating a humongous plate of anything makes me lose my appetite.

The oldies fry everything. (See fire story below.) Once I grilled a beef tenderloin and the next day, she was frying the leftovers. When I served shrimp cocktail during the holidays, she fried up the rest.

They eat dessert with every meal. Breakfast is fried eggs, fried bacon, toast slathered with butter and then either cookies or coffee cake. We should buy our own dairy farm to save costs on butter.

My three recent favorites are:
  • Cheese slop
  • Tomato gravy
  • Cracker mush

Cheese slop involves an iron skillet with a ton of melted butter. Then she throws some Velveeta cheese slices on top of it. She actually puts the hot skillet on a trivet and puts it right in front of him with some slices of white bread. The man is legally blind -- yeah, that's safe.

Tomato gravy is some concoction with stewed tomatoes and cream. It looks disgusting and it smells worse. They gobble it up like a cat with tuna.

Cracker mush involves breaking a bunch of Club crackers in a bowl and pouring cream on top. Yum!

Once, she had a friend over to help make greens. My friend (J) was so nauseated by the smell she threw up in my driveway.

When I make a (normal) dinner of grilled whatever and a salad or veges, they both look at me like I've lost my mind. How did they live this long with these eating habits?