Maddie is my great-niece, and is 2 1/2 years old. She is a delight (most of the time) to her mother, and her grand-parents.
I'm not much of a child person, although little ones seem to like me. I've always thought of it as the same thing as if you, a dog hater, enter a house with a dog, and the dog won't leave your side. Or the dog just continually humps your leg.
Something about the lack of cooing and attention makes them like you.
Did I tell you how smart Maddie is? She knew all of her colors well before most children, and can count to 10 with ease. In fact, I'm pretty sure she can count to 100 in Spanish but doesn't want to show off.
Maddie and her Mom came over to my camper last weekend 'cuz they were bored. So I gave Maddie a straw tote bag I use to carry my beach towels in, and said "let's go to the Market".
She put the tote bag on her shoulder and followed me around the camper. We stopped, and I said, "should we get a tomato"?
She said yes, so I handed her a tomato from the counter. We walked some more, and I asked "how about some garlic to go with that tomato"?
She thought that might be nice, so I gave her a head of garlic. We collected a couple of potatoes, a pepper grinder, and an onion on our trip. Later, I asked her what we had in the bag to make supper with. I asked her "do we have a tomato"? She pulled out a tomato. I said that we needed an onion and some garlic to go with the tomato, so she correctly pulled those out too.
Now I know that everyone thinks that their child/grandchild/niece/great-niece is smarter than average (certainly prettier than average, since she looks like me). But I think that next summer I'm going to teach her to cook for real. When she's much much older she can look back and remember the times she spent with Auntie Sandy going to the market and using the ingredients we collected to make a delicious supper.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Ode to the Pickle
I'm talking about making kosher dill pickles. I used to help Mom make dill pickles, and remember stuffing those cucumbers into the jar, finding every spare nook and cranny to cram more into. I remember the sound of the cucumber squeaking along the side of the jar as it slid into its permanent place, or at least permanent for a month or two until we'd eat them.
We'd have a jar of pickles on the table at every meal other than breakfast. That and a plate of white bread (don't ask me). If we couldn't reach the pickle with our hands, we'd stick a fork in the jar, cursing as we tried to hook on and bring it out and into our mouths. That salty, garlicky sensation, so unlike the taste of the original cucumber, would make my taste buds shrivel up in delight as I sucked the juice off the pickle before my first bite, just a tiny bit off the tip so I could curl my tongue around the inside and get all of the juice before I took my first big bite.
I think that understanding how dill pickles were made was one of those "aha" moments in my life. Something so ordinary transformed into a taste sensation. I have 5 quarts of my own tonight. Mother would be so proud.
Monday, August 16, 2010
Bittersweet
There are moments in everyone's lives when moving on is the best thing to do; when the sweet outweighs the bitter. Luckily, I get to move my home with me. My Summer Palace is going to relocate about 20 miles away in a new campground.
I will miss the people I've met here over the years more than they will ever know. This campground is full of young families full of life and promise. Their energy is infectious, and I've spent many a great night at one of their campfires laughing, drinking beer, and making new friends.
My new campground is still getting up and running, and I suspect that the neighbors will be quite a bit older, since it's more expensive, and a longer-term committment. But just like buying a house instead of living in an apartment, this feels like it's the right thing to do. And if my employer continues to be the best employer on the face of the planet, I hope to make Minnesota my permanent home in a couple of years, so I can sell the Summer Palace and move into a year-round palace.
The new 'hood has paved roads, an indoor swimming pool, and lake access (a motorized tram takes the boat from the marina over the land to the Pelican River, which empties into Detroit Lake, Little Detroit, Muskrat, and Sallie). Like the Jeffersons, we're "moving on up...to the east side", well it's the west side of the lake, but it's still a move up. My brother and family are going too, so I'll still have boat time most weekends.
And I'll be much, much closer to a decent sized grocery store, a Walmart, and hair salon. These things do matter when you live in a camper and you are desperate to get your roots touched up!
So goodbye to the film of dust over everything because the roads are unpaved. Goodbye to ATV's speeding through the campground (they're not allowed in the new place). Goodbye to hauling the boat in and out of the public access when we want to go on the water.
Goodbye to my flower garden - I hope to build a new one, but it won't be the same. Some of you are coming with me - I hope you survive the transplant.
And most importantly, goodbye to good friends that I've made in the years I've been here. I'd like to say I'll visit, but we all know that 20 miles is too far to drive home after a night at the campfire. I hope that some of you will follow us - maybe not this year, but sometime in the future. In the meantime, I wish for you nothing but warm cloudless days where the wind is only strong enough to cool you down but leaves the water looking like glass. I wish for you no dog poop on the sandbar, no idiots putting their boats in at the public access, and lots of good food that Tom cooks up on his fancy grill.
I will miss you all.
I will miss the people I've met here over the years more than they will ever know. This campground is full of young families full of life and promise. Their energy is infectious, and I've spent many a great night at one of their campfires laughing, drinking beer, and making new friends.
My new campground is still getting up and running, and I suspect that the neighbors will be quite a bit older, since it's more expensive, and a longer-term committment. But just like buying a house instead of living in an apartment, this feels like it's the right thing to do. And if my employer continues to be the best employer on the face of the planet, I hope to make Minnesota my permanent home in a couple of years, so I can sell the Summer Palace and move into a year-round palace.
The new 'hood has paved roads, an indoor swimming pool, and lake access (a motorized tram takes the boat from the marina over the land to the Pelican River, which empties into Detroit Lake, Little Detroit, Muskrat, and Sallie). Like the Jeffersons, we're "moving on up...to the east side", well it's the west side of the lake, but it's still a move up. My brother and family are going too, so I'll still have boat time most weekends.
And I'll be much, much closer to a decent sized grocery store, a Walmart, and hair salon. These things do matter when you live in a camper and you are desperate to get your roots touched up!
So goodbye to the film of dust over everything because the roads are unpaved. Goodbye to ATV's speeding through the campground (they're not allowed in the new place). Goodbye to hauling the boat in and out of the public access when we want to go on the water.
Goodbye to my flower garden - I hope to build a new one, but it won't be the same. Some of you are coming with me - I hope you survive the transplant.
And most importantly, goodbye to good friends that I've made in the years I've been here. I'd like to say I'll visit, but we all know that 20 miles is too far to drive home after a night at the campfire. I hope that some of you will follow us - maybe not this year, but sometime in the future. In the meantime, I wish for you nothing but warm cloudless days where the wind is only strong enough to cool you down but leaves the water looking like glass. I wish for you no dog poop on the sandbar, no idiots putting their boats in at the public access, and lots of good food that Tom cooks up on his fancy grill.
I will miss you all.
Friday, August 6, 2010
For Emily
Sometimes a leap of faith makes all the difference. In 1984, my friend Denise called me and asked if I would drive with her to Texas, where she was moving after college. In order to do so, I had to quit my jobs (I had 2) and hope that I would find another one when I returned after 3 weeks.
After those three weeks, Denise and my other best friend Karen asked me if I wanted to make it permanent. So I took a deep breath, went back to North Dakota, packed up my little car, and started the long drive back to Texas with your Grandma Joyce. She went as far as Oklahoma City with me, where we spent a couple of days visiting with my cousin who lived there at the time.
And then it was time - I was leaving home forever to create a new life for myself, far away from everyone I loved. I reached Dallas and by the time I got to the apartment I had to run for the toilet. Turns out I had the flu, so it wasn't the best start to my new adventure!
I felt out of place for a long time - Karen and Denise already had friends there, and I was an outsider. I wanted to go home. The weather was stifling hot, and I wanted to go home.
I got a job and moved into an efficiency apartment, where my water bed took up most of the room. I got robbed one day - they took my TV, my boom box, and an afghan I made myself. Everything I had of value. I wanted to go home.
I struggled so hard, making many mistakes along the way, but somehow kept going forward on my new life adventure. I wanted to go home countless times, but never did.
There were really good times too, like being able to be close to my two best friends. We were all poor, and used to go to Happy Hours on Friday simply because they would have free food. We'd order our one drink and nurse it for hours.
And now, 26 years later, I want to go home for a better reason. My life adventure has taken me around the world many many times, and I've seen and done things that would make your jaw drop. I have the best life ever, and would never have had any of it if I hadn't done exactly what you're doing now. You must leave home in order to find out who you are, what you're made of, and what is possible for you.
I am so proud of you, Emily Joyce. You have begun the biggest adventure of your life and the world is waiting for you!
After those three weeks, Denise and my other best friend Karen asked me if I wanted to make it permanent. So I took a deep breath, went back to North Dakota, packed up my little car, and started the long drive back to Texas with your Grandma Joyce. She went as far as Oklahoma City with me, where we spent a couple of days visiting with my cousin who lived there at the time.
And then it was time - I was leaving home forever to create a new life for myself, far away from everyone I loved. I reached Dallas and by the time I got to the apartment I had to run for the toilet. Turns out I had the flu, so it wasn't the best start to my new adventure!
I felt out of place for a long time - Karen and Denise already had friends there, and I was an outsider. I wanted to go home. The weather was stifling hot, and I wanted to go home.
I got a job and moved into an efficiency apartment, where my water bed took up most of the room. I got robbed one day - they took my TV, my boom box, and an afghan I made myself. Everything I had of value. I wanted to go home.
I struggled so hard, making many mistakes along the way, but somehow kept going forward on my new life adventure. I wanted to go home countless times, but never did.
There were really good times too, like being able to be close to my two best friends. We were all poor, and used to go to Happy Hours on Friday simply because they would have free food. We'd order our one drink and nurse it for hours.
And now, 26 years later, I want to go home for a better reason. My life adventure has taken me around the world many many times, and I've seen and done things that would make your jaw drop. I have the best life ever, and would never have had any of it if I hadn't done exactly what you're doing now. You must leave home in order to find out who you are, what you're made of, and what is possible for you.
I am so proud of you, Emily Joyce. You have begun the biggest adventure of your life and the world is waiting for you!
Reconnecting
Last weekend my big brother Mick invited me to spend the weekend with his family at a lake resort about 2 hours from my place. All of his kids and their spouses would be there with their kids - 8 adults and 5 kids under the age of 10.
I arrived Friday afternoon just in time to help prepare for supper. My great-nephew Andy loved my fruit salad, making me love him even more than I already do. The rest of the night was spent talking, laughing, and drinking beer and wine until the last arrivals rolled in.
Saturday we spent some time in the lake. Although the resort was beautiful, this lake had a horrible algae problem, with clumps of it floating on top of the water. It made me appreciate the lakes near me, which are clear. Later in the day we all went for a pontoon ride around the lake, admiring the pelicans soaring overhead and the loons popping up near the boat. We also found some not-so-nice things, like giant dead fish floating near shore.
For supper, we had yummy steaks grilled over real charcoal - I can't remember the last time I had anything cooked on charcoal! The campfire S'Mores were a bust since the skeeters were so bad, so we went in to play Phase 10 after the kids were put to bed. There was lots of giggling, and several more bottles of wine disappeared.
Sunday was golf day. I don't golf, but I asked if I could drive the cart and be the beer girl. I was told that my titles wasn't beer girl, it was "beer bitch". The golf course alone was worth a trip - no houses built along the edge, you felt like you were in the middle of the North Woods. The view from the 2nd hole was spectacular, where you could see the lake from a hill through the trees.
It was great fun until the rain started. We went as fast as we could to the rain shack, but we were all soaked through by the time we arrived. After 9 holes I had to say my goodbyes and head home, since I had to prepare for a trip to New York Monday.
The weekend brought back memories of childhood vacations spent much the same way on a lake, where the adults played cards, children played in the sand, the women spent a lot of time in the kitchen preparing delicious meals, and everyone slept soundly, exhausted after fun days in the sun.
I arrived Friday afternoon just in time to help prepare for supper. My great-nephew Andy loved my fruit salad, making me love him even more than I already do. The rest of the night was spent talking, laughing, and drinking beer and wine until the last arrivals rolled in.
Saturday we spent some time in the lake. Although the resort was beautiful, this lake had a horrible algae problem, with clumps of it floating on top of the water. It made me appreciate the lakes near me, which are clear. Later in the day we all went for a pontoon ride around the lake, admiring the pelicans soaring overhead and the loons popping up near the boat. We also found some not-so-nice things, like giant dead fish floating near shore.
For supper, we had yummy steaks grilled over real charcoal - I can't remember the last time I had anything cooked on charcoal! The campfire S'Mores were a bust since the skeeters were so bad, so we went in to play Phase 10 after the kids were put to bed. There was lots of giggling, and several more bottles of wine disappeared.
Sunday was golf day. I don't golf, but I asked if I could drive the cart and be the beer girl. I was told that my titles wasn't beer girl, it was "beer bitch". The golf course alone was worth a trip - no houses built along the edge, you felt like you were in the middle of the North Woods. The view from the 2nd hole was spectacular, where you could see the lake from a hill through the trees.
It was great fun until the rain started. We went as fast as we could to the rain shack, but we were all soaked through by the time we arrived. After 9 holes I had to say my goodbyes and head home, since I had to prepare for a trip to New York Monday.
The weekend brought back memories of childhood vacations spent much the same way on a lake, where the adults played cards, children played in the sand, the women spent a lot of time in the kitchen preparing delicious meals, and everyone slept soundly, exhausted after fun days in the sun.
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