Cooking with the Relatives

I am now in possession of a fabulous cookbook. My aunt's niece made it a few years ago.  Anyone who knows my Aunt Joyce knows that lady can cook.  One of the first memories of food I have at her house was cinnamon toast.  I know, cinnamon toast is pretty mundane but really everything that came out of her kitchen (and my grandmother's kitchen up the street) tasted better than any food I've ever had.

Both my aunt and my grandmother seemed to cook without thought.  I remember going to see my grandmother in the nursing home a few years ago.  I had decided to stop and get some soft crabs on the way home and figured I could ask for her secret recipe.   Granny shrugged her shoulders and laughed when I asked about the best way to cook them.

"I dunno," she replied, "flour, pepper, push 'em around and fry 'em up.  That oughtta do it."

It did.  It wasn't the recipe I thought I'd hear, but it worked.

My aunt's way of cooking is also a non-exact science.  It seems when her niece was trying to get recipes out of her she'd give ingredients, a few cooking directives and end by saying, "you know, just cook it 'til it's done."

My mom has a few secrets as well.  She always had the best freshly brewed tea.  My high school friend, Phyllis, still asks about the salmon roll and oyster stuffing she would make each Thanksgiving and Christmas in hopes there are leftovers somewhere.  And just two weeks ago she made some real kick-ass crab cakes.

Staring Down the Cold Vegetables

I was never too fond of vegetables as a kid; so having parents who believed in the clean plate club meant there were more than a few nights that I had to sit at the table staring at broccoli that needed to be finished.  I'm sure it made sense at the time but in hindsight I can't be sure who would think that a kid who didn't like broccoli was going to want to eat it after it had sat on the plate for 40 minutes.  Besides eating it never seemed to be the point. There were many times that I shoved cold, mushy vegetables in my mouth long enough to get the okay to be excused from the table only to run out the front door and spit them out into the bushes.

I was thinking about those vegetables tonight as I metaphorically processed my day.  You see, I'm feeling like my plate is full of vegetables this week.  My teaching and the things related to my class take up a large part of the plate.  There are papers to grade, new lessons to plan and tomorrow's visitors to worry about.  Then comes the work stuff: paperwork for  special ed. meetings, emails to remind teammates about upcoming events, and after school meetings that I perceive as useless and unproductive.  There's the exercise I'd like to do and the decorations from Christmas that still haven't been stored in the attic. The plate is full and to tell you the truth I'm just not that hungry.

It's been a long time since I've had to sit at the dinner table staring down my vegetables.  Driving home I realized it would have been better to eat that disgusting broccoli when it was hot.  So tonight, even though I didn't much feel like it, I put the boxes in the attic and went out for a two-mile walk.  Tomorrow I'll try to get an early start on the day and make the best use of my time.  Hopefully I'll feel a sense of progress, but really I wouldn't mind a smaller plate.

Daily Savings

I got caught up on a lot of paperwork over the weekend.  The stack of open mail had been growing on the table near the front door.  There were bills to file and issues to resolve.  One of those issues was my bill for the Washington Post.

I've been a subscriber for almost 20 years but recently I took a good look at the amount of money I was spending and started to wonder if the money I was putting out was really worth it.  My bill was close to $50 every six weeks; it just seemed like way too much especially when I considered the papers that went unread.  By Saturday I was ready to make the call and change to a Sunday only subscription.

It took the customer service representative a few seconds to pull up my account.  When she did she remarked on the number of years that I'd been a subscriber, she also asked why I was changing my service.  As soon as I let her know the cost was too much she was ready with a new deal.  I could switch to the Sunday only service for $1.82 a week or I could get Sunday and weekday delivery for $1.81 a week.

Crazy, right?  Part of me was relieved that I wouldn't have to give up my daily paper, the other part of me was mad that I hadn't called earlier...like 150 dollars ago.

A Different Kind of Day

Many might assume that since I live a mere five miles from the nation's capital that I can often be found roaming the halls of any of the many museums found in the area.   The truth is that I spend most of my time across the river living my life in Alexandria and Arlington.  Like most people I get caught up in the daily activities of my existence and don't think too much about the artistic and cultural opportunities that are so close--which is why I love when visitors come.

Visitors arrived late yesterday afternoon, which meant we had just enough time to view the Capitol as the sun was setting.  With Mars shining brightly in the night sky we headed over to the Lincoln Memorial to stand in the shadow of the grand marble statue that is Abe.  Yes it was cold but we didn't let that stop us from walking around to the back of the building to see the eternal flame of JFK's grave light up a small section of the hillside across the Memorial Bridge.  We did a drive-by glance of Mr. Jefferson before heading back to Virginia to see the illuminated Iwo Jima Memorial.

Today we put on our tourist footwear, grabbed our cameras and headed back downtown to the Natural History Museum and National Gallery.  Seven hours of acting like a tourist was fun, educational and exhausting.  Not surprisingly, I drove back over the Potomac thinking about how I really need to get downtown more often.

A Tough Job

It was only a year ago that I wrote about a good friend of mine who was taking charge by shaving her head before the side effects of chemotherapy took control.  She's battled her cancer with that same kind of attitude ever since.  Debbie has continued to lunch with friends, walk her dog and travel.  She saw the architecture of Chicago, the beauty of Paris and spent a few weekends in New York to take in a show and shop.  She was determined to live her life as usual---and she did.  Unfortunately the cancer inside her had its own plan.

I spent a good part of my day yesterday on the phone with various friends to let them know that Debbie had been admitted to the hospital earlier in the week after collapsing at home.  "She's taken a turn for the worse" was the phrase of the day.

It wasn't easy to be the bearer of bad news, to be the one to let so many know that we were now looking at what seemed to be the beginning of the end.  There were a lot of tears, but there was a whole lotta love too.

No Reservations Needed

After a day spent inside cleaning I ventured down to the nearby shopping/restaurant village to pick up a little Indian food for dinner.  The weather was grand; there was a slight chill in the air but it was the kind of night that definitely made me believe that true spring was around the corner.

I was shocked at the number of people who were out.  Really the village of Shirlington was bursting with people.  Restaurants were packed full--waiting customers spilled out onto the sidewalk in front of the Mexican restaurant.  Even the Indian restaurant, which is usually only about 1/4 full, was doing a brisk business.   For a moment I felt like I was the only one who wasn't out to dinner.

No matter, I'm back at home now and happy about that.  I'll watch a little basketball and finish up a few small cleaning projects.

In Need of Gadgets

That pesky little check engine light came on again a few weeks ago...and then yesterday it was gone.  I'm not sure why and for now I'll continue to not worry about it, but even so, I must admit that I have been noticing other cars lately.  A few weeks ago I heard about the return of the VW Microbus and spent the next few days picturing myself driving one around town. 

I love my car.  But...it's getting to the point where I know if I want any sort of trade-in I might need to go car shopping sooner not later.  It runs just fine and other than the check engine light that illuminates and darkens for no apparent reason there's not much else to complain about.


Except maybe the headlight thing.  The newer cars have a handy little gadget that turns the headlights off automatically.  Daytime running lights were big a few years ago and so it seems many cars were built with the ability to shut off the headlights when the driver forgot.  My 2003 Honda doesn't have that fine feature.  Lately I wish it did.  In the last year I've ended up with two or three dead batteries because of my own failure to turn off the lights.  That being said, I've been on a pretty good run lately.  Until today.  (Isn't that always the way?  I mean otherwise why would I be writing this?)


I left work after a long day and made my way across the parking lot to my car.  With a steady rain falling and a chill in the air I was clutching my keys with thumb on the remote to unlock the doors.  I pressed unlock over and over again and noted that the lights were not blinking to signal the doors were unlocked.  It didn't take too long to realize I was stuck on a rainy afternoon with a dead battery. 

Fortunately, there were still a few people left at work so I started to scan the cars in the parking lot to see who I might hit up for a jump.  I saw two good options and headed toward the front door. 

It turns out I wouldn't make it past that door.  It was there I ran into the PE teacher who was on her way out.

"Hey," I called, "Can I use your car to get a jump? I mean it's nasty rain and all so you won't even need to get out I just want use of your battery."

"Actually, I have a thing in my trunk you can use to jump the car.  I've used it myself in this very parking lot."

She was right.  Within three minutes the Black and Decker jump starter had done the trick and we were both in our cars and on the way home.

I'll keep imaging myself in other cars, including my very cool and dreamy red Microbus, but I'll also look into the purchase of one of those nifty jump starter things.