Chopped

Yesterday Joyce and I did our own version of the TV show “Chopped.” 

It began innocently enough.  I’ve just had a knee replacement and am not very mobile at this time.  I invited Joyce over to cook a spaghetti squash that I had.  I bought it sometime ago because it would look good in my bowl of fall veggies – squashes, potatoes, tomatoes, gourds and nuts.  My plan was to cook it after I tired of the decoration.  I think I’ve cooked spaghetti squash once before in my life so I did not feel up to tackling that dish.  My old and dear friend Joyce was up to the challenge and said sure, no problem. I might add that I thought she answered in such a nonchalant manner, I wondered if she really knew what she was doing.  Oh well.

She was supposed to arrive about 11 AM but instead called about that time to say she was in the middle of a project with her grandchildren (6 of them) and it would be 12 -12:30 before she got here. “Fine,” I say but I’m thinking – what about lunch?  I don’t see how this is going to work. I’m not energetic enough to think hard about it or make a plan – it will just evolve.

Joyce gets here shortly after 12 with apologies and a recipe.  We immediately determine that the meal she is going to fix will be dinner, therefore “what’s for lunch?”  Ok, check the fridge and find something.  She did and we had leftovers from the night before.

I showed her two recipes for spaghetti squash in two different cookbooks and she had a recipe.  My advice was “I don’t care what you do with it.  Whatever you figure out is fine.”  Meanwhile I rested in my easy chair, resting and being grumpy.  Joyce was in the process of picking and choosing from the recipes and making something.  I don’t know what all she put in the casserole but she raided the spice cabinet, pantry and the fridge.  After an hour or so she commented, “This is the last time I’ll ever cook spaghetti squash,” and she continued to mutter and mumble.  And I continued to grumble and grumble from my easy chair.

What makes this work is that we’ve known each other since our kids were little and they’re about 50 years old now.  Therefore, we don’t have to put on a pretty face or be nice & proper.  We can be just old us and its ok.

She kept remarking that she would never again do this.  And from my easy chair, I mumbled that whatever it was, it was ok.  Finally she said all done and put it in the oven.  Now it had to cook ½ an hour, I think she said. 

After careful calculation we decided we had enough time to watch a movie before she had to leave for another appointment.

I had nothing planned for the rest of the afternoon so we expected a period of uninterrupted time.  Now, under the best of circumstances the two of us watching a movie is an “iffy” experience. Neither of us really knows how to work a DVD – it’s a matter of trial and error.  We got it started, settled down – me in my easy recliner and Joyce on the couch. Then nothing went according to schedule – a friend stopped by, my tenant brought in a package and visited, the phone rang and future plans had to be changed.  You understand, each interruption means the DVD has to be stopped and started and I have to get in and out of the chair (slowly and with difficulty).  We have to find a flashlight so we can read the buttons on the machine.    With all the happenings, the movie was just lost in the shuffle.

About this time, Joyce says that it’s time to check the casserole. She checks it and tastes it.  She immediately realized that something was WRONG. She reread the recipes and realized that the squash was supposed to be cooked BEFORE the casserole was made!  After it was made, the casserole was supposed to cook another 30 minutes.  Joyce simply decided that the way to make it right was simply  cook it longer.  So back in the ovenl it goes.

Finally, she announces that it is done, she tastes it and says “You or I will never taste anything like this again!”  She prepares to leave and we realize that we will not get to see the end of the movie. Sooo – by now, we’ve forgotten what it was all about anyway. 

And so ends an afternoon when Joyce was the chef and was given a spaghetti squash to make something with.  It was a challenge.  I was like a judge – grumpy and cranky.  The conclusion was that spaghetti squash will never be cooked again by either Joyce or me. And that hopefully my disposition will improve.

We both agreed – yesterday should be “Chopped!”

As she left, she had the nerve to cheerily call over her shoulder, “And what would you like me to cook next time?”

Precious Memories of Pet

Precious Memories of Pet

 

My Pet Squirrel

Pet adopted me, it was not me adopting him. 

During warm days I leave the sliding glass doors open.  I know, I know – bugs and stuff get in.  It’s okay – I’ll pay that price for the fresh air.  One day Pet decided to come into the kitchen.  I was horrified – oh, he would get scared, feel trapped, want to get out and forget how to get out.  So, in the process of looking for a way out, he would destroy and in general create havoc.  But there was something about him that made me doubt my idea of panic. I watched from afar.  He went to the bottom shelf of a bookcase and began searching for the bag of roasted peanuts I had bought from SC on my return trip home.  I had forgotten about them.  What a good nose he has.

Carefully I went over, took out a handful of peanuts, put them on the floor and watched him eat them.  The cats just watched.  Pet was just alert and watched them.  When Pet finished eating, he investigated the rooms a little bit and then left by the same door which he entered.

Oh that was fun and exciting.  I guess it’ll be the only time he’ll do such a thing. 

And I let it go.

A few days later, he once again appeared in the kitchen.  Where are the peanuts?  Do I have to come get them? 

I put a couple of handfuls in a tray, put it down in the living room and watched.  The cats watched too.  Nobody got excited.  Pet ate, the cats watched.  Some days the squirrel or cats would feel frisky and chase each other around the chair a time or two and then Pet would go back to eating and the cats would go back to napping. 

He visited all summer.  Sometimes, I’d feed him sunflower seeds on the deck railing.  He loved those.  I decided to hold them in my hand and see if he would take them.  I know, I know.  I was worried about him biting me and have rabies or some other terrible disease but I could not resist so I took the risk.  He came up, put his little paws on my fingers and took the seed.  He loved it.  He stayed and ate until he was filled.  I was so excited.  

There is something so special about a  connection with a wild animal.  It’s called trust. 

One day after about a year, he showed up, limping.  He ate from my hand and I never saw him again. 

That special time – the time a squirrel let me be his friend, is filed away under “Precious Memories”.

Top - Pet checking out the kitchen

Bottom Left - Cat, Starr checking out that strange thing

Bottom Right - Cat, Midas checking out that strange thing from the safety of a chair

Teacher Habits

As a retired elementary school teacher I am used to scrounging.  We always needed supplies that the school budget would not support.  That meant the teacher either scratched the project, bought it out of her personal money, or scrounged.  We became expert scroungers.  We enlisted the aid of friends as well.  We saved plastic tubs, plastic lids (almost said kids), paper plates, paper bags, pine cones, scraps of fabric, and mats for framing and a hundred other things.

Every holiday there were projects. Santa was made out of paper bags with cotton balls for hair and beard, paper plate for face and cap of red construction paper.  Many goals were met doing this besides the fun of it. Some are:  following directions, measuring, imagination for drawing and coloring in the face and others.

The Thanksgiving turkey was often made out of pine cones, pipe cleaners, patterns for head and wattles which had to be drawn, copied, and glued in place.  Feet also required patience and skill in tracing cutting and gluing.  Eye hand coordination and imagination were important.

Apple head dolls could be used for Halloween to be a witch to take home.  Apples were gathered from a field trip or supplied by the parents.  Cloves were used for the face and then we sat then on the windowsill until properly aged & withered.

Empty egg cartons were a prize – many projects could be made using them.  One of my favorites was using them to plant seeds in the spring.  That’s when we were learning about growing things and understanding they didn’t just appear in the Super Market.

I am now a senior citizen.  You would think my days of scrounging would be over, but no, no.  I used all those saved products with my grandkids. Now they’re grown so you’d think that those boxes of scrounged and saved stuff would just be thrown out and no more gathered.

Well, somehow I haven’t been able to break the habit.  The lady who comes over to my house to try to help me keep some order looks at my boxes of saved stuff (treasures) and shakes her head. “Mary do you really need all these plastic bottles, Cool Whip tubs and this other “junk”, she asks. “Yes,” I say! I am thinking that some of my friends will need this stuff for projects they want to make with their grandchildren, some 1^st grade teacher friends, some church groups or Day Care groups.  It’s valuable and I know somebody wants and needs it.

I lecture myself saying that I know today they use different materials and make different projects. BUT I can’t imagine how technology and digital stuff can beat the old hands on, get dirty, gluey and smudged with colors and paint making a project. Then with a smiling face say “Look what I did!  I did it myself!”

MBS:1/17/12

Written while in hospital after knee surgery, couldn’t sleep and was bored so wrote with paper and pencil in half dark.