Our youngest granddaughter is now ten. It seems like we'll blink and lose her to her own explorations of the wide world. I'm so thrilled that she still openly admits to longing for time with us. I feel that I must take every opportunity to spend time with her before she outgrows her granny.
Richard and I have been invited by her gifted program teacher to assist with a class field trip to the World War II Museum. How sweet is that when your grandchildren are so proud of what you do that they want you to teach their class something about your work? Now her big brother, who really enjoys time with his "Poppie" has asked if he can tag along. I hope it all works out. I'd be on cloud nine, or is it cloud ten?
Me and my youngest grandgirl had a sleep-over last night and enjoyed each other immensely, but the time was too short. She's in so many activities that it's really cutting into our time together. I'm not really complaining, though, because the class that kept her late was sewing. I'm hoping she can teach me a few new tricks.
The time waiting for my granddaughter also gave me the opportunity to take our only grandson to his favorite shopping place, Gamestop, where he purchased a Batman game with his own money. What an easy way to be a hero; all I had to provide was the ride. He's thirteen, so every minute with him before he takes the wheel is a gift.
After the grandchildren were whisked away, our daughter-in-law and I curled up on the couch, still in our jammies and watched a not-suitable-for-children movie as my son bopped in and out in his own inimitable style. What a perfect way to spend a day.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Louisiana Lost and Found
It is lovely living with a Italian/seafood restaurant on the harbor. Even though we both enjoy cooking, sometimes it's simply more convenient to take visitors out to eat. Our friends, Susan and Mark, who have settled in Louisville, Kentucky after being washed out by Hurricane Katrina and then a several year stint living in Florida, pass within a quarter mile of our condo on their way to visit their son and other sundry relatives and friends in New Orleans. This almost guarantees that we will get to see them as they pass by, especially since they usually arrive at lunch time. As Sam Walter Foss said, "Let me live in my house by the side of the road and be a friend to man."
In order not to put pressure on them about their arrival time, we opted to meet them at the harbor side restaurant. They had a sailboat slipped here many years ago and reminisced about the wonderful times they had sailing and swimming with their young children. The memory machine, I'm sure, was well oiled by the sumptuous seafood dishes on all of our plates. We ended the meal with a walk to our condo (Richard got a one-block ride in Mark's two-seater red sports car, in which I can't even imagine folding myself up sufficiently to enter and exit). At home, we ate oatmeal/cranberry cookies from the cookie dough I had on hand from the visit by the baby boys and sipped cafe au lait.
Susan and Mark are now sandwiched between Susan's aging parents and their daughter's family, complete with their first grandchild. I think they're in Louisville to stay, but it sure was wonderful to relive their memories of how our Louisiana lives were before our losses.
Oatmeal Cranberry Cookies
1 cup butter, softened
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 eggs
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups oatmeal
1 cup dried cranberries
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Beat butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and eggs until light and fluffy. Add flour, salt, and soda. Mix well. Mix in oatmeal. Stir well. Drop by tablespoon on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes. Yields about 5 dozen.
In order not to put pressure on them about their arrival time, we opted to meet them at the harbor side restaurant. They had a sailboat slipped here many years ago and reminisced about the wonderful times they had sailing and swimming with their young children. The memory machine, I'm sure, was well oiled by the sumptuous seafood dishes on all of our plates. We ended the meal with a walk to our condo (Richard got a one-block ride in Mark's two-seater red sports car, in which I can't even imagine folding myself up sufficiently to enter and exit). At home, we ate oatmeal/cranberry cookies from the cookie dough I had on hand from the visit by the baby boys and sipped cafe au lait.
Susan and Mark are now sandwiched between Susan's aging parents and their daughter's family, complete with their first grandchild. I think they're in Louisville to stay, but it sure was wonderful to relive their memories of how our Louisiana lives were before our losses.
Oatmeal Cranberry Cookies
1 cup butter, softened
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
2 teaspoons vanilla
2 eggs
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups oatmeal
1 cup dried cranberries
Preheat oven to 400 degrees.
Beat butter, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, vanilla, and eggs until light and fluffy. Add flour, salt, and soda. Mix well. Mix in oatmeal. Stir well. Drop by tablespoon on ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes. Yields about 5 dozen.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Beutiful Baby Boys
Our niece and her boys came yesterday;
She had homework, and they wanted to play.
What a delight it was to recapture our past
When Richard and the children would have a blast,
Building towers with homemade wood blocks
That come crashing down with gentle knocks.
The two boys also played boat in a box;
This served to really turn back the clock
To our first grandchild who could make boats
Out of things that were never meant to float.
We read stories, played cars, and laughed a lot.
They're not our grandchildren, but it matters not.
She had homework, and they wanted to play.
What a delight it was to recapture our past
When Richard and the children would have a blast,
Building towers with homemade wood blocks
That come crashing down with gentle knocks.
The two boys also played boat in a box;
This served to really turn back the clock
To our first grandchild who could make boats
Out of things that were never meant to float.
We read stories, played cars, and laughed a lot.
They're not our grandchildren, but it matters not.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Simple Savory Supper
What we enjoyed with last night with friends:
Cream Cheese and Chutney with Whole Wheat Crackers
Richard's Sumptuous Salad
French Bread and Butter
Pepper Dijon Pork Cutlets
Kale with Portobello Mushrooms
Bowtie Pasta with Olive Oil and Garlic
Irish Coffee
Pepper Dijon Pork Cutlets
1 1/2 pound boneless pork loin, cut 1/4 inch thick
Nonstick spray
Seasoned salt
1 cup sauvignon blanc
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon crushed green peppercorns
Season pork with seasoned salt. In large heavy skillet, over medium-high heat, brown pork on both sides. Remove pork from skillet. Keep warm in 200 degree oven while making sauce. Deglaze skillet with wine. Whisk in Dijon mustard and crushed peppercorns. Heat to boiling. Pour over pork. Serve with potatoes or pasta.
Kale with Portobello Mushrooms
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 pound sliced portobellos
1 cup red wine
1 pound kale, chopped
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 8 ounce can sliced water chestnuts
Salt
Black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon sugar or sugar substitute
Heat olive oil in large skillet, over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms. Cover and fry, stirring occasionally until brown and tender. Deglaze skillet with wine. Add all other ingredients. Cover skillet. Reduce heat to medium. Cook until kale is tender, 20-30 minutes. This can be tossed with bowtie pasta or served alone as a side dish.
Cream Cheese and Chutney with Whole Wheat Crackers
Richard's Sumptuous Salad
French Bread and Butter
Pepper Dijon Pork Cutlets
Kale with Portobello Mushrooms
Bowtie Pasta with Olive Oil and Garlic
Irish Coffee
Pepper Dijon Pork Cutlets
1 1/2 pound boneless pork loin, cut 1/4 inch thick
Nonstick spray
Seasoned salt
1 cup sauvignon blanc
1/4 cup Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon crushed green peppercorns
Season pork with seasoned salt. In large heavy skillet, over medium-high heat, brown pork on both sides. Remove pork from skillet. Keep warm in 200 degree oven while making sauce. Deglaze skillet with wine. Whisk in Dijon mustard and crushed peppercorns. Heat to boiling. Pour over pork. Serve with potatoes or pasta.
Kale with Portobello Mushrooms
1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 pound sliced portobellos
1 cup red wine
1 pound kale, chopped
1 teaspoon minced garlic
1 8 ounce can sliced water chestnuts
Salt
Black pepper
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon sugar or sugar substitute
Heat olive oil in large skillet, over medium-high heat. Add mushrooms. Cover and fry, stirring occasionally until brown and tender. Deglaze skillet with wine. Add all other ingredients. Cover skillet. Reduce heat to medium. Cook until kale is tender, 20-30 minutes. This can be tossed with bowtie pasta or served alone as a side dish.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Foggy Feelings
Fog over the water is eerie to me;
The sea has become the sky,
And the sky has become the sea.
Many lured by the sirens' songs
Realize too late that
Their direction is wrong.
We're back home after years away.
There is no way to predict
How long, this time, we'll stay.
Our life's seas have been rough,
Our ride has been quite wild
For me, being partners is enough.
The captain of my ship is off;
May his journey be safe,
And his landing be soft,
His mission be noble, his path true.
May his reward be the pleasure
In the work that he'll do.
The sea has become the sky,
And the sky has become the sea.
Many lured by the sirens' songs
Realize too late that
Their direction is wrong.
We're back home after years away.
There is no way to predict
How long, this time, we'll stay.
Our life's seas have been rough,
Our ride has been quite wild
For me, being partners is enough.
The captain of my ship is off;
May his journey be safe,
And his landing be soft,
His mission be noble, his path true.
May his reward be the pleasure
In the work that he'll do.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Back on the Banks of Lake Pontchartrain
We're back on the banks of Lake Pontchartrain,
My Richard, Waggy, her puppies, and me.
The leaves in the mountains on the way down
Were such a sight for us all to see.
It was quite a sight for others,
Passing by Waggy's loaded truck;
We had everything but the kitchen sink
And a many pointed handsome buck.
We had not enough room for a postage stamp
Under Waggy's big blue FEMA tarp,
And Waggy had to content herself
With a space not big enough for a dog's bark.
Six hundred miles Richard drove us
As we chatted about our sixty years
He never once complained
Probably glad there were no tears.
That's one thing about my friend Waggy
She and I always find a way to laugh
Even when she takes upon herself
What seem to others impossible tasks.
After all she's done to help us
In our overwhelming partial move
She says it was the kind of vacation
Of which she and her puppies approve.
My Richard, Waggy, her puppies, and me.
The leaves in the mountains on the way down
Were such a sight for us all to see.
It was quite a sight for others,
Passing by Waggy's loaded truck;
We had everything but the kitchen sink
And a many pointed handsome buck.
We had not enough room for a postage stamp
Under Waggy's big blue FEMA tarp,
And Waggy had to content herself
With a space not big enough for a dog's bark.
Six hundred miles Richard drove us
As we chatted about our sixty years
He never once complained
Probably glad there were no tears.
That's one thing about my friend Waggy
She and I always find a way to laugh
Even when she takes upon herself
What seem to others impossible tasks.
After all she's done to help us
In our overwhelming partial move
She says it was the kind of vacation
Of which she and her puppies approve.
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The Wonderful Whirlwind Waggy
Wow! What a whirlwind we've brought to our house in the holler. My friend since I was five came with us for a visit as we prepare to put our mountain home on the vacation rental market. She said that she needed a vacation from her duties taking care of her eighty-five-year-old father in Louisiana. Never have I seen a vacation quite like the way Waggy does it.
As soon as we arrived, Waggy announced that she wanted to attend Deborah's twice-a-week exercise classes. These aren't senior citizen stretches; this is a wonder woman workout. Like this isn't enough bending and stretching for anybody, Waggy also accompanied Judi to a two-hour Yoga lesson on an off day for exercise class. This is Waggy's idea of relaxation. Now for what she does for fun...
Thus far, she's cleaned cobwebs, washed windows, prettied up the porch, done loads of laundry, bailed and scrubbed buckets that had collected stagnant water, and painted the back door, swept, mopped, dusted, and generally kept things clean while I pack. She's also willing to help tote boxes to the heap of things coming south with us. This is all worked around her at-home exercises and caring for her two active house dogs.
My recently deceased eighty-four year old mother, who lived next door to Waggy's dad for over fifty years, used to say, as she watched Waggy work on her dad's house, that everybody needed a Waggy. Now I know what she meant. Wonder woman has nothing on our wonderful Waggy.
As soon as we arrived, Waggy announced that she wanted to attend Deborah's twice-a-week exercise classes. These aren't senior citizen stretches; this is a wonder woman workout. Like this isn't enough bending and stretching for anybody, Waggy also accompanied Judi to a two-hour Yoga lesson on an off day for exercise class. This is Waggy's idea of relaxation. Now for what she does for fun...
Thus far, she's cleaned cobwebs, washed windows, prettied up the porch, done loads of laundry, bailed and scrubbed buckets that had collected stagnant water, and painted the back door, swept, mopped, dusted, and generally kept things clean while I pack. She's also willing to help tote boxes to the heap of things coming south with us. This is all worked around her at-home exercises and caring for her two active house dogs.
My recently deceased eighty-four year old mother, who lived next door to Waggy's dad for over fifty years, used to say, as she watched Waggy work on her dad's house, that everybody needed a Waggy. Now I know what she meant. Wonder woman has nothing on our wonderful Waggy.
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