A RAINY, YUCKY DAY
It is raining and thundering like crazy. I can’t go for a run. I don’t like to run inside so the treadmill at the Y is out. And I am eating way too much Back to Nature 100% Natural Chocolate Delight granola which by the way is a BoGo at Publix this week.
I bought 4 bags.
Ted, the dog, is scared and is guarding my feet where they reside under my desk. Actually Ted doesn’t care about my feet as much as he is simply hiding out under my desk.
And I am feeling very out of sorts. This happens sometimes.
I think I have arrived at that stage in my life in which, when I can’t find something I just had in my hand, I FEEL like I am going CRAZY!
And then I dramatically exclaim, “I FEEL like I am going CRAZY!” and then I ask one of my kids or my husband, “Do you think I am going crazy?”
And the reply is usually “no” except when there is no reply.
They say silence speaks volumes.
Lately I have been losing coupons and keys.
THE OTHER THING
My husband and I are really not much alike on a variety of subjects.
He likes naps.
Given the chance, he likes to sleep late.
Sleeping late makes me feel sick and lazy.
When he is stressed, he likes to sleep.
When I am stressed, I have to move.(I don’t mean for this list to be all about sleeping and naps.)
He likes Frosted Flakes. I like the healthy stuff.
He can skip coffee in the mornings. I require 2 or 3 cups.
He can go with the flow. I tend to want to control things.
I tend to use the word “tend” a lot. He typically uses the word “typically.” A lot. Typically, that is.
He pronounces this word: “pecan” like “pee-cahn” and with an emphasis on the “pee” part.
I say “puh-cahn” with an emphasis on “cahn.”
He melts butters for his popcorn. I prefer sea salt – no butter.
And that’s about it. Not really. But I’ll stop now.
This is the point. Although my husband and I have many differences, on the really important stuff ~ we’re on the same page.
This weekend we were driving somewhere and I had one of those crazy moments happen right before we left home. It was probably involving keys.
And I said to him, “Seriously, when things like that happen lately, I feel like I am going crazy!”
And he replied, “That’s ok. We’ll just go crazy together.”
And I answered, “Good. ‘Cause CRAZY likes company.”
See? On the really important stuff, we’re a lot alike.
|My niece and I won the Scrabble game with 139 points and using all of our tiles!|
|My friend, Amy ~ If you stop by, you have to try “Hookum.”|
|Ted and his new Christmas toy ~ a moose.|
|This is my face when I focus.|
|My mother ~|
What happens when you combine a dad and his daughter in a small kitchen for Thanksgiving? Mix with an attitude of, “I’m the better cook” and a pinch of family rivalry and you have a recipe for drama!
(But it’s all in fun and makes for good memories!)
Wednesday morning, our family drove twelve hours to my parents’ home in rural Mississippi. (Whenever I spell Mississippi, I want to break out into the crooked letter, humpback version.)
Thursday morning I began the process of getting our Thanksgiving meal ready. My mother is unable to cook due to health issues, although she did direct my dad on how to make the cornbread dressing before we arrived. I was a little disappointed because I thought I would be under her tutelage for that delicious dish. She makes the best!
My dad is funny.
When we arrived late Wednesday night, the first thing he said when we walked in the door was, “Are y’all hungry. I have a brisket.”
There was no, “You made it!” or “How was the traffic?” or even “Hello!”
He shows his love by feeding you.
He loved on us for 4 days!
As I was adding the praline topping to the sweet potatoe souffle, he suggested I put marshmallows on top.
Me: “Well, I guess I could do half and half. Get me the marshmallows.”
Dad: “Oh, I don’t have any.”
My daughter eats gluten free and vegetarian. My Dad planted a garden this year and had put up vegetables in their freezer. I took out some butter beans to prepare them “vegetarian style” as a side dish for my daughter. I told Dad that I didn’t use bacon drippings or pork fat to season them for her.
Me: “I just use olive oil and onion.”
Dad: “Oh, well why don’t you just cut it down to one piece of bacon?”
Friday night I told my son that I would fix pancakes for him the next morning. So first thing Saturday morning, I put on an apron and get the ingredients out for buttermilk pancakes.
“Who wants pancakes?” I ask.
Dad: “I’ll eat some.”
As I am pouring the buttermilk into the flour, he walks into the kitchen and says, “I just use water.”
Me: “I’m not using a mix. I make them from scratch.”
Dad: “Well, that batter’s too thick. The best pancake mix is that kind that starts with a ‘k’.”
Me: “Krusteaz. But I don’t like to use mixes.”
Dad searches around the kitchen and finds his pancake mix. And we both stand at the counter preparing separate pancake batter having our own brand of Throwdown, because it wouldn’t be Thanksgiving without some competition in the kitchen.
And while we use a couple of tablespoons of syrup for our pancakes, Dad likes his “swimming in syrup.”
He actually says this everytime he eats pancakes. “I like mine swimming in syrup.”
And I usually say,“That’s too much sugar. Won’t that run your sugar up?” He’s diabetic!
When I saw his plate, I almost took a picture. The pancakes weren’t just swimming. They were drowning. At least he included a life jacket for them in the way of a hunk of butter on top.
And that’s what happens when you combine a dad and his daughter in a small kitchen at Thanksgiving.
Serve warm with LOVE.
|~my daughter and my dad reading cookbooks~|
My Buttermilk Pancakes
1 1/2 cups flour (I use self-rising.)
2 T sugar
1 large egg beaten
1 1/3 cups buttermilk
1/2 stick melted butter
For how to make Perfect Pancakes, go here.
So, spill the beans…any drama in your kitchen at Thanksgiving? Anything funny happen?