Cooking and Cuddling

I drove through cold rain all the way to Atlanta, but it was well worth the trip. Fifteen-year-old Rebecca had aced her classes and was able to opt out of several final exams, so she had me pick her up from school before lunch. We picked up country cooking and took it to Rachel’s school. I got to observe Rachel with her class while enjoying Rachel’s daughter’s company.

As we ate, Rachel and Rebecca discussed complicated math constructs with great gusto. I loved listening to my girls chatting about math when so many women I know can only manage discussions about outfits and home décor – not that I was really familiar with what they discussed, mind you. I just like listening to brainiacs.
Rebecca is generally so busy with her fast track to success, that I hardly ever see her. She’s taking International Baccalaureate Classes, which require endless hours of study; is active in her church; plays soccer; and runs cross-country. There’s not much time left for cuddling or cooking with Granny.

Even though Rachel is a wonderful cook, Rebecca has little interest in kitchen capers. I worry endlessly that, when she goes to college, she won’t know how to cook anything nutritious to feed herself, other than Easy Mac and chicken parmesan. Last time we were at her home with a little leisure time, I took it upon myself to teach her to make lasagna. We got a good laugh out of distracting each other so much that I layered it wrong. She said, “Great Granny; you finally get to teach me to cook something, and you teach me the wrong way. Good job!” To which I replied, “I guess we’ll just have to plan another lasagna lesson.” Always trying to work those angles…

It was a special treat to be able to have Rebecca all to myself for a full afternoon. We decorated and baked Christmas cookies, giggling like little girls over our anorexic angels and corpulent candy canes. She wanted to get her gift buying for her sister, Sarah, and her mama out of the way while they were otherwise occupied. We ran and road through the rain to get to Target, where Rebecca succeeded in completing her shopping and tried on a sweater that was perfect for her. It was fun to watch her weigh the pros and cons of the sweater purchase, which she ultimately decided against.

After a stop at Publix for mini chocolate chips, we returned to Rachel’s house where Rachel was waiting to put the kibosh on our cookie icing plans. We had to content ourselves with turning the peanut butter cookie dough into chocolate chips held together with a bit of peanut butter cookie dough. Our first batch looked like soccer balls, but they got better after Rachel got involved.

Meanwhile, Sarah helped put the finishing touches on holiday décor after she and I played a little Wii; and Rachel and I worked on completing her chicken and sausage gumbo.

What a lovely day it turned out to be, even with the wet winter weather.

Life’s Strife

We’re jammed up and jelly tight.
I will be able to sleep tonight.
We’ve got lots of jams for you:
Blackberry, blueberry, black and blue.

Richard cleaned my mess for me;
We hope you can plainly see --
Richard and I are a team,
Even though we’re not everyone’s dream.

We are just happy to be alive --
Waiting for guests to arrive.
We hope our outlook on life
Will help soothe some of your daily strife.

Countdown to Christmas

Who needs Craigslist when we have a blog? Within hours of my blog post, a faithful follower requested the rocker. Because the request came from just down the road, Richard lost no time in loading up the chair for delivery. Bob’s chair is now where Roger’s chair used to be, neither as comfortable nor cute, but the kids can’t pick it apart like they’ve been doing the wicker.

Blueberry jam made it into jars, and the blackberries are ready for crushing, having spit juice all over the stove through the release valve on our pressure cooker. Macaroons are made. After one more batch of roasted pecans, I’ll close the kitchen – until next week.

The sleigh is now loaded with catering equipment that Rachel wants to borrow for her Christmas open house. As soon as I get the gifts ready to take, I’m heading south to help Rachel get ready. Richard will have a break from me, but Mamie is borrowing him to help spruce up her guest apartment. He’s glad to do this because we just never know when we may need the overflow housing.

Our Christmas tree has made it in the door, but it still sits in its box on the floor. It’ll just have to wait until we get back from Atlanta. I have yet to buy gifts for Scott’s kids, but maybe I’ll do this with Rachel and her girls before heading back to our holler. And, if not, there’s still the day after Christmas before Brother Bill arrives.

On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer, on Vixen…

Christmas Chaos

I just couldn’t take it! Our house is such a mess that I want to move out. Adam suggested that we go over to their house and, when they arrive, just hand our house key over to our guests. Let them figure it out. This is very tempting, but we’d surely lose our friendship with Josie and Adam. Messes seem to follow us around. We never met a job that we couldn’t complicate.

What kind of fool does one have to be to continue making jams in a kitchen with a table jacked up on cinder blocks to serve as a gift wrapping station? And why would one go to Wal-Mart at this "most wonderful time of the year?” My excuse for accompanying Richard to shop was that “we” needed to choose a tree, “we” in this case meaning me. I really went to escape the mess – get a little perspective on the world outside our whirlwind. There really are still parts of the world where people can find a place to sit without first removing ten boxes and a bag of bows.

Here we are, back to wading through big boxes and precious papers, Jelly Bellies and jam jars with no place to put our Christmas gifts, let alone our Christmas tree -- which we did finally buy. Let’s just say, if we were movie directors, we’d turn every made-for-TV movie into The Ten Commandments. But, we’d also have a few elves helping in the production – if we were movie directors.

To add to all this confusion, I had some new furniture delivered – new being a relative term, meaning new to us. When Camille was in town, we went to the Tellico Emporium, just to browse. I came upon two perfect pieces, and just had to have them. The artist/proprietress, Carol Baldwin, re-imagines old pieces of furniture by painting whimsical designs on them. I had been searching for “just the right piece” for our guest room/writer’s nook. Carol had painted a pastoral scene on the front of a drop leaf desk that is in perfect proportion to our tiny room. We now have a pristine place to put a pen to paper or to connect a computer while one writes the next "great American novel."

Also on display at the Emporium Annex was an oak rocker on consignment that had been owned by Bob Hardin, Coker Creek’s famous knife maker and leather worker -- who used to make buckskins for Fess Parker. The rocker, too, was a “must have.” Camille was supposed to take our old wicker rocker, but thought better of it before she headed home. Do we really need three rocking chairs in a thirteen hundred square foot house, even if we could fit them inside?

Richard keeps bringing up a service that city slickers use to get rid of unwanted stuff, where they advertise free merchandise and put it on the curb. “Presto!” -- people come to take it away. You think he’s trying to give me a hint that something has to go? I just hope it’s not his wife…

Making More Goodies

Got all jammed up
When I ran out of jams.
What do we have
To send to our fans --
For this Christmas?

We have plenty
Of our fine bourbon balls.
This may cause some
Of our friends to fall --
Off the wagon.

The macaroons --
I can make plenty more,
When my Richard
Returns from the store --
With groceries.

Blackberries and
The blueberries I froze,
I will defrost,
Because Heaven knows
We need more jams.

After Richard
Has the packages wrapped,
Into the sleigh
The gifts are all stacked
For the mailing.

We finally
May put up the lights.
Did the gutters
Hard freeze overnight?
We can hope not.

Our holiday
Home is such a wreck
To look at it
You’d never suspect
We’ll get finished

In time for our
Nieces, my brothers,
And our nephews,
Grandkids and others.
But we’re on it…

A Palace of Pine

Let me live in a house by the side of the road,
Where the race of men go by —
The men who are good and the men who are bad,
As good and as bad as I.

I would not sit in the scorner’s seat,
Or hurl the cynic’s ban —
Let me live in a house by the side of the road
And be a friend to man.
--Poem: The House by the Side of the Road by Sam Walter Foss

This seems to be the way of life for many up here, people with generous spirits and open hearts and homes. Mamie sells eggs to draw people to her house. Jack will stop anything he’s doing to set on the porch with all who call on him. Deborah and Charlie entertain hundreds of guests every month, and still have time to offer a rocker on their porch to any who may stop by. Josie and Adam draw friends like honey draws flies.

Neither Josie nor Adam will ever get old because they both have endless curiosity about everything around them. Adam loves to collect stories of people’s adventures and share stories of his own actions in the military and his new life as a cop. Josie loves to share her artistic adventures with whoever wishes to partake. I recently accompanied Josie to a meeting where at least three of the attendees were wearing items of wearable art created by Josie Mott.

Josie and her jeep can be spotted all over the back roads of our neck of the woods. She has a keen eye for photography, creates fabulous textile art, and still makes time to keep a clean cabin and make delicious winter soups.

Adam is always involved in something in the community, such as playing McGruff for the Coker Creek School’s drug awareness and safety program, or riding with police officers assigned to Christmas duty -- just to act as morale officer to them. How lucky we are to have been chosen as their friends.

We were invited to join them for the Christmas Cantata at their church, with a light supper at their home to precede the trip. Josie outdid herself with the vegetable beef soup. I’d be hard pressed to name a vegetable that she didn’t have in that pot. She also served homemade cornbread and melt-in-your-mouth biscuits, accompanied by chunky apple-pear sauce she had whipped up. All of this was served in the surroundings of their pine palace on the side of the road.

Richard and I passed on the Christmas Cantata because we don’t know how to behave in holy places. He gets me giggling, and then all eyes are on me. I’m already in danger of being burned at the stake, so I don’t want to take any chances.

Bluegrass Bacchanal

The Bluegrass band was really swinging ,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
Mr. Bluegrass, he was a-singing,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

Lots of gifts and lots of food,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
Everything was looking good,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

Yankee gift swap then ensued,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
With lustful eyes we were imbued,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

A lot of fur began to fly,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
For better presents we did try,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

Cassie was our precious elf,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
Without thought for herself,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

She ran gifts from table to table,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
She proved that she was very able,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

For everyone there was a gift,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
Hope the swaps didn’t cause a rift,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

It was time for us to chew the fat,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
There were even little chocolate rats,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.

Charlie and Deborah outdid themselves,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.
They could use a few more elves,
In the Coker Creek Saloon.