Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Stop sharply - restrain passenger
Tonight on the way home from Chuy's (yes, it's still Hatch Green Chile Festival!!!) traffic caused me to step on the brakes sharply - and my right arm immediately shot out to help restrain the passenger in the front seat. Now that reflex action came from a relatively short period in my life, when we were driving a big Buick Electra with bench seats and our children would be with us in the front seat. They were fastened - somewhat - to a belt looped around the seat back, but we got in the habit of reaching an arm out to prevent a child from tumbling.
Now most of you know how old those children are now, and I can guarantee you that they don't have that reflex action because the law hasn't allowed unrestrained (or relatively so) children in the front seat for many years now. So I guess that's only a reflex of Mom and my generation and earlier. The years we spent with young children not buckled securely into seat belts were only a handful - but tonight, a full 35 years later, I put my hand out. And I guess I will until you take my car keys away from me.
Now most of you know how old those children are now, and I can guarantee you that they don't have that reflex action because the law hasn't allowed unrestrained (or relatively so) children in the front seat for many years now. So I guess that's only a reflex of Mom and my generation and earlier. The years we spent with young children not buckled securely into seat belts were only a handful - but tonight, a full 35 years later, I put my hand out. And I guess I will until you take my car keys away from me.
Friday, September 5, 2008
When is chicken not chicken?
A local reporter has begun a new column in the Statesman called "Momma's Kitchen." He's going to write about favorite family recipes and the traditions that surrounded them and he began by writing about his momma's Chicken and Spaghetti - the penultimate church dinner dish.
His story was that growing up as one of six children in the household of a small-town preacher and his wife, the Chicken and Spaghetti dish was one way his mother could feed a family of eight with only one chicken - often a necessity in those challenging days. And that got me to thinking about my mother's Chicken and Spaghetti.
I don't think money was as tight when I was growing up as it was for the reporter - at least, if it was, it was transparent to me. I think the reason my mother cooked Chicken and Spaghetti so often - especially for church gatherings - was because she needed a way to disguise the rabbit. Yes, it's true. Mother's Chicken and Spaghetti was often really Rabbit and Spaghetti.
At one time we raised rabbits in a big way. The front of the garage had been replaced with two tiers of rabbit cages, and with rabbits reproducing like, well, rabbits, there was always an abundance of white meat that "tasted like chicken" at our house. It didn't pay to get attached to those cute little bunnies. There was just something wrong about hearing, "We're having Floppsy for lunch today."
Fried rabbit was better than fried chicken - it was all white meat - but one couldn't pass the dish off as chicken because the parts were just not the right parts. But in a casserole, who knew? I don't think anyone in Breckenridge was opposed to eating rabbit, but to my knowledge, Mother never gave away her secret to the church folk, and if they suspected, they were too polite to face her with the fact.
The reporter finished his column discussing the recipe he found as his mother's dish, and the fact that the recipe called for black olives. He claims his mother never put black olives in the dish; his sister says she did. Which got me to wondering - did my mother use black olives? I want to say yes, but that may be because of all the dishes at church luncheons for all these years that have included black olives. I simply can't remember. But I do remember that "chicken."
His story was that growing up as one of six children in the household of a small-town preacher and his wife, the Chicken and Spaghetti dish was one way his mother could feed a family of eight with only one chicken - often a necessity in those challenging days. And that got me to thinking about my mother's Chicken and Spaghetti.
I don't think money was as tight when I was growing up as it was for the reporter - at least, if it was, it was transparent to me. I think the reason my mother cooked Chicken and Spaghetti so often - especially for church gatherings - was because she needed a way to disguise the rabbit. Yes, it's true. Mother's Chicken and Spaghetti was often really Rabbit and Spaghetti.
At one time we raised rabbits in a big way. The front of the garage had been replaced with two tiers of rabbit cages, and with rabbits reproducing like, well, rabbits, there was always an abundance of white meat that "tasted like chicken" at our house. It didn't pay to get attached to those cute little bunnies. There was just something wrong about hearing, "We're having Floppsy for lunch today."
Fried rabbit was better than fried chicken - it was all white meat - but one couldn't pass the dish off as chicken because the parts were just not the right parts. But in a casserole, who knew? I don't think anyone in Breckenridge was opposed to eating rabbit, but to my knowledge, Mother never gave away her secret to the church folk, and if they suspected, they were too polite to face her with the fact.
The reporter finished his column discussing the recipe he found as his mother's dish, and the fact that the recipe called for black olives. He claims his mother never put black olives in the dish; his sister says she did. Which got me to wondering - did my mother use black olives? I want to say yes, but that may be because of all the dishes at church luncheons for all these years that have included black olives. I simply can't remember. But I do remember that "chicken."
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Just curious
Can you remember the last time the Library Lady stamped the return date in your book? Me neither.
So why - in this brand new book (note the acquisition date) - did they go to all the trouble to paste in a date slip?
IMWTK
So why - in this brand new book (note the acquisition date) - did they go to all the trouble to paste in a date slip?
IMWTK
Monday, September 1, 2008
Celebrating the 50th
No, not ours. Not just yet. But over the past two weekends we have attended anniversary celebrations for friends of ours. And they could not have been more different.
The first was a return to the 50's - complete with "waitresses" in pink poodle skirts serving soft drinks in vintage Coke glasses and an Elvis impersonator. "Elvis" is our Worship Minister, and he did a good job considering the fact that he's not old enough to have actually seen Elvis. Unlike someone I could mention. We've accused him of some Elvis-like moves on Sunday morning, so now we know. The place was decorated like a Malt Shop and we listened to a lot of 50's-era music and dined on hamburgers. I knew all the songs. I played all the songs when I was a disk jockey.
The second was a catered formal dinner. Silverware, appetizers, nice Italian cuisine, wedding-type cake for desert. The grandchildren provided the entertainment and the retrospective. Definitely a much lower-keyed affair. Definitely a much higher-priced affair.
So, considering that our own 50th anniversary is coming up in just a few years, which style did we prefer? When you get that age one always has the right to change ones mind, but I think neither. Some cake, some punch, some good coffee and a few friends dropping by seems about right to us. Oh, and some of those little mints. That ought to do it.
The first was a return to the 50's - complete with "waitresses" in pink poodle skirts serving soft drinks in vintage Coke glasses and an Elvis impersonator. "Elvis" is our Worship Minister, and he did a good job considering the fact that he's not old enough to have actually seen Elvis. Unlike someone I could mention. We've accused him of some Elvis-like moves on Sunday morning, so now we know. The place was decorated like a Malt Shop and we listened to a lot of 50's-era music and dined on hamburgers. I knew all the songs. I played all the songs when I was a disk jockey.
The second was a catered formal dinner. Silverware, appetizers, nice Italian cuisine, wedding-type cake for desert. The grandchildren provided the entertainment and the retrospective. Definitely a much lower-keyed affair. Definitely a much higher-priced affair.
So, considering that our own 50th anniversary is coming up in just a few years, which style did we prefer? When you get that age one always has the right to change ones mind, but I think neither. Some cake, some punch, some good coffee and a few friends dropping by seems about right to us. Oh, and some of those little mints. That ought to do it.
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