BEACH WEDDING!

i have news! BIG news! After 38 years of bachelorhood, my son has decided to tie the knot! He came home in the middle of the day yesterday and told me the news. I had been suspecting the announcement Sunday when they spent all evening with us at my friend's house. His sister and the nephews were all there and we just lounged on the deck all afternoon. It was the perfect time to announce the engagement, but apparently, he lost his nerve. No, he said he decided to tell me first privately. Could be that he was not certain of my reaction. He always dreads to tell me that he is going on a trip because he thinks that I stress about it. So he delays telling me when actually, I just need time to digest the news and pray about it. Anyhow, it is official. Plans have already been made for a beach wedding. He has always been determined to have a low-key wedding on a tropical beach, forgoing all the fal-de-ral that his sister loved so much. She had two big church weddings and did most of the preparations herself. I guess she thought she could do the same for him, but the bride-to-be was in total agreement with him. I am a little relieved, I admit. The two of them seem so happy that it is hard not to get immersed in the glow. She is an extremely striking young lady, and will make a beautiful bride. Her sister will be maid of honor and my son has asked his nephews to share the best men spot. I do not think tuxedo's will be worn because of the heat, although it is scheduled for sunset. I am trying not to think ahead to the changes in our living arrangements and the obstacles that stand in the way, and instead be happy in this joyous occasion and the marriage of my only son. Of course, I have my own fear of flying to overcome, and the fear of the unknown that has developed with age, in order to be part of the ceremony. However, a trip to the Virgin Islands and a paid vacation is hard to resist.

SHE'S HERE!

The new baby arrived to meet her family yesterday at 3:12 p.m. Her mother, my niece had been admitted to the hospital Monday night and her labor induced by an intravenous drip. The labor began in earnest around daybreak and proceeded slowly all day. I arrived around ten o'clock and tried to provide moral support for my anxious sister. After dilation reached 6, an epidural was given and there was some fear that it was wearing off around 1:00 and the anesthesiologist was called to give a little extra.. The pushing began in earnest around 2:45 and little Pateyn Brooke arrived soon after that. She weighed 8 lb. 3 ozs. She is a beautiful baby and will probably be blonde like her mother and sister. She has a pert little nose and big eyes and a sweet, little rosebud mouth. I can't wait to hold her. Her sister was hyper in the waiting room but unusually subdued when she met the baby. She was more excited to be going home with her little cousins to spend the night. It should be interesting to see if she is willing to share the limelight with the new baby. I came home exhausted. I must have pushed with every contraction, holding my breath with each one. I remember how tiring it can be to spend days (and nights ) in the hospital, with love ones. It is not the physical activity that drains one, but the emotional. I am so glad that it is over and we have a healthy baby. She is our miracle baby as her mother was stabbed on both sides of her abdomen, barely missing the baby with each wound. Now that the baby is here, her mother will have surgery on the hematoma that has formed on her leg between the three wounds there. The trauma of her mom 's attacked by a deranged total stranger while shopping in a local store is still causing her daughter to fear closed doors, all knives, and any absence of her mother. Hopefully the arrival of a sister will displace all those bad memories. I pray for health, and happiness for this young family. Thank you, Lord, for the blessings we have already received.

TRESPASSER

Well, I still haven't gotten that last rose planted. My lawn care men have not been here in three weeks now and with all the rain, my grass is very high. But not high enough to hide the trespasser that sneaked up behind me. When I turned and saw IT, my mattock went one way and I went the other. I haven't moved that fast in three years, since I hurt my knees. I paid for it yesterday evening, with pain all night. but I was moving on. I tried to call both my son and my friend and could not get in touch with either one. When I told them about it later, their mild unconcern ruffled my feathers, to say the least. As did their assurance that IT was long gone by then. Just passing through. So, today, I thought I'd keep my eyes pealed but get that rose into the hole that had been dug and abandoned. My eyes were darting to and fro and sure enough, I spotted the invader again, this time on my porch. I must have been slightly incoherent when I called my son at the office. The next thing I knew a police car pulled into the driveway and my good friend Jim began the search. He stopped once to ask me if I was sure that it wasn't a coil of television cable by the fence. He must have been convinced for he resumed his search and this time he saw it. He managed to use his trusty pepper spray before it went under some wood. He advised me to call the local "Mountain Man" who has many years of expertise in this field. My son called him and he came at once. It did not take him long to spot and capture his quarry. I tried to pay him but he refused and instead took the captured prey to his own barn, where IT was welcome as a rodent hunter. Good riddance. I have had a bad case of nerves since then, jumping at every thing I see or feel. It will take me a while to recover. In the meantime, I am sending that last rose to my daughter or putting it in a pot till next spring. If ever!

HOLIDAY HAVOC

Well, this holiday has come and gone, and I must admit that I am glad it's over. While I like to remember my departed loved ones on Memorial Day, I find that old emotions are stirred up and surface as raw spots. Perhaps it helps with healing deep wounds, but there are sad feelings when you place those floral tributes. My late husband's resting place is in a cemetery on a hill located on "The Trail of the Lonesome Pine," and actually is directly across from a tall pine that is silhouetted against the skyline. I always think of the Fox novel by that name when I see it. My daughter made a beautiful arrangement for her father. She can always outshine the florists on an arrangement. She loves flowers as much or more than I , and we spent Saturday touring all the local greenhouses. Her garden is incredible and her new found passion for roses is consuming all her free time. If the boys leave any, that is. She was searching for Jackson and Perkins climbers, "Blaze of Glory" and "Voluptious". She had seen them earlier and bought others instead and grieved because they got sold. She did not find them , but I bought three. These were my favorite ones that she has blooming. One is a double "Knock-out", and the other two are climbers; "Scent of Heaven" and "Double Delight". I planted two yesterday and trying to decide on a spot for the other one. Mine will never be as beautiful as hers (her pictures were accepted for an online garden magazine) but I am hoping for blooms. Daughter and SIL took their son to the airport yesterday to return to Iraq. She tried not to cry, in order for the departure to be easier for him, but she just couldn't help it. She said folks were coming up and thanking him for serving his country and it was very emotional. His two weeks home just flew by, with dinners and cookouts for him. He will be gone a year. Pray that all our boys will be home by then. Guess what! My niece had contractions last night. Doctor said she would not make it till June 1st, her due date. Today is her little girl's birthday. New baby made it past Mem Day, and if she isn't born today, she will get a day of her own to celebrate her birth. My niece is scheduled for surgery the 3rd, because of the hematoma on her leg. She is the one that was stabbed by a stranger in a store as related in a previous entry. Pray for an easy birth and a well baby. We took the grandsons to the Sunday School picnic and had a great time. We enjoyed the food and afterward there was a rousing softball game between the "Has-Beens" and the "Want-a-Bees." The Has+Beens were the over-35 bunch and held their own, even though accused of crowding the field. It was fun and frolic. Son and friend had made a short trip to Boone, N.C. a quaint little ski town and Grandfather Mountain and area. He was home yesterday and we just lounged all day. We wore P.J.'s most of the day. I was glad he had a day to rest. Me, too. No more holidays until the Fourth of July, and only one birthday in June. But I am already looking forward to those. Spring is hectic with so many events that one has to be reminded sometimes to "stop and smell the roses." Oh, yeah, that reminds me, I have one to plant. Catch ya later.

I MUST BE MURPHY!

Murphy's law is known by practically everyone, it seems. The likelihood that anything that can go wrong will go wrong seems sometimes to especially apply to me. It could be caused by my extreme "bumbling" instead of chance, do you think? Anyway, the chances of something going wrong are extremely ex "ass "erbated by getting in a hurry. Now, I am not a "hurry" type of person by nature, and as I age less than gracefully, seem to have slowed to a snail's pace. I have begun to dread any event for which I have a set time to arrive. This trait has become stronger since my retirement, since I no longer have to be at work on time, a fact that I am so enjoying thoroughly. That alarm clock has been thrown right out the window, something I've wanted to do for 20+ years. Oh, the joy of late morning sleep! I digress, back to timed events. That includes weddings, funerals, graduations, showers, and even church services. Since it is not "cool" to make a late entrance to any of these, I have now begun to question whether I even want to attend. Now I love going to church and I have years of non-attendance to make-up for so it is not an option to skip these services. The rest can be replaced with a card containing money in the preference of personal attendance, or so I rationalize when I am trying to talk myself out of going. It is not so much that I do not enjoy these outings once I get there (well, maybe not the funerals!) but the option of not going causes me not to be fully prepared for the occasion. I don't know why I do not purchase multiple items like pantyhose that I know I am going to need. It is inevitable to get a big "runner" at the last minute, causing the panic to well up in one's throat, knowing you have not allowed time for an emergency stop at the local Wal-mart. For instance, this weekend I attended a funeral that involved a four hour trip each way. Delay followed delay, almost as if a little demon planned the agenda to frustrate me. Some were insignificant things that could be shrugged off or changed. Others were major, like rain beginning while I was inside a rest stop bathroom. My hair does not react well to humidity, much less a downpour. (I could have taken an umbrella inside with me, but my not thinking ahead caused a frizzy do.) My appearance was nothing compared to major accident which occured a few cars ahead of us that blocked the highway with demolished vehicles, rescue squads, fire trucks, a wrecker, and an emergency heli- copter. The arrival of the chopper signaled us to turn around and retreat 30 minutes to another parkway exit which was an alternate route, but added another 30 minutes travel time. Now, things like accidents and rain storms are things that is beyond one's control, but it is small things that are more irritating. I am absent-minded at best. (Note the fact that I left my only curling iron in the hotel room when we left, causing an even worse hairdo the next day.) Knowing this weakness causes me to doubt my own self, generating paicked thoughts that spoil any event. For example, thinking "Did I or did I not leave the iron on?" or "Did I check the stove after I heated the soup?" or "Did I lock the front door after the unexjpected company arrived while I was getting dressed to leave?" A series of things like this is what causes my usually unruffled countenance to disintergrate. Since I abhor profanity, I have a few choice words , expletives , that explode unbidden at moments like these. I've noticed that it doesn't matter so much to me when others have to wait for me as the fact that I hate waiting for others. My friend has the need to be early for events, which I find is tiresome. He also wants to leave them early, while I, once I have got there, do not mind to linger and gab, knowing that he is fuming all the while. I like to be on time. If something starts at the stated time, I like to be there no more than three minutes prior. Needless to say, any small delay can cause one to enter sheepishly right behind the bridal party. Oh, well, I guess there is some- thing to be said for making a grand entrance. (and probably is said, in a mumbled undertone.) When will I learn? Probably never. I could apply several old adages that I have in my stock of philosophical references. Like "You can't make a silk purse from a sow's ear", and "You can't change a zebra's stripes". But also, "Better late than never!" and "You're never too old to learn". I have a tendency to pass the buck and blame some one or some thing for my failings, a common tendency, I've noted. I've recognized my weakness, now working on me, instead of blaming fate or even Murphy's Law will take some time and effort. I'll TRY!

RECESSION RECIPES

While preparing my traditional Thursday's spaghetti sauce, I had the random thought, "Nothing gives you as much bang for your buck than good ol' spaghetti"! Thankfully, all my family loves spaghetti with or without meatballs. I usually make a meat sauce because it is easier. I prefer a chunky tomato marinara, but my son likes it smooth. Anyway, it set me thinking about my frugal family food. I have written in prior posts about my mother's comfort cooking and how she loved feeding her extended family members. She loved cooking big pots of food to have simmering on the stove when family members strolled in unexpected. My parents and my husband's parents had all survived the depression era and adapted their menu's and recipes to fit the meager times. My era was not quite as deprived as theirs but they continued their simple food preparation mainly because they had become accustomed to it and even preferred it to more expensive dishes. My husband's favorite dishes were typical farm fare. We did not know at the time how loaded with fats, white flour and sugar could contribute to health problems like high blood pressure and cholesterol. We only knew that he loved gravy and biscuits with fried sausage, bacon or ham. Occasionally, he spoke longingly of his mother fixing Banner Brand sausage, a cheap canned version that was loaded with fat. I did not fry it , because I suspected that it was "mystery meat", even though he assured me that all the fat fried out leaving a unique flavor. The canned meats that I used were Treet and Spam and I came up with a delicious version of chopped ham for two. I sliced the small loaf almost through into six sections. Into each split, I would place a half-slice of pineapple and cover all with a glaze of mixed brown sugar and prepared mustard. Baked, it was great! Not exactly gourmet, but a welcome change from fried bologna (which he also loved, by the way.) Our standard staple was brown (pinto) beans and fried potatoes. (We called them Irish potatoes, because they saved many an Irish family from the famine.) Other beans were often cooked, white navy, lima and butter beans but never as often as our soup beans. These simmered all day on the stove and eaten with big pieces of corn bread and various pickled foods. We ate fresh green beans in summer and home canned ones in the winter time. Bushels of potatoes were covered in the ground in "tater holes", covered with straw and soil to prevent freezing. One of my husband's favorite meats was pork side meat that was salt preserved like country ham. He liked slices of it rolled in corn meal and fried crisp and golden. As a matter of fact, he liked anything rolled in corn meal and fried. We both would have eaten a ______ if it was rolled in corn meal and fried. LOL! No, we did not indulge in some of the ethnic dishes like "chittlings" and "mountain oysters" that were very cheap but my mother liked hog jowl and pickled pig's feet, but I could never even look at those dishes. She occasionally wanted some potted meat or vienna sausages even though she was not to eat that as she got older. She cooked some things with bacon renderings all her life and would not substitute oil for the fat in some dishes. Her German potato salad was loaded with bacon drippings. It is a good thing that the older generation worked so hard. There certainly was no need for exercise classes back then. Hoeing a cornfield would work off a multitude of sinful indulgences. Her biscuits were light and golden and her cornbread was perfect, and I suspect a little lard made the difference. She scorned green beans and pinto beans that were not cooked with a strip of "fat-back" meat. And it sure added flavor! I always made salmon croquettes (patties) as a special treat for my husband, because he loved them. I hated for the house to smell like fried fish so sometimes I fixed them on the porch in the electric skillet. He also liked chicken livers sometimes instead of buttermilk fried chicken or chicken and dumplings. Of course, we had lots of veggies, greens and baked dishes. In later years, I tried to limit fried foods as I became more health conscious but they remained his favorite foods all his life. My son grew away from our eating style while in college. He began to appreciate a more international cuisine. Plus, he often dined with his girlfriend of eight years. Her grand- father was a wealthy cattleman, among other things, and my son became a steak-lover during those years. To be honest, he never cared as much about our home-cooking as we did. He acts incredulous about some of the things we liked (I say he is a member of the spoiled generation of burger, pizza lovers.) sometimes when I have an especially "country"meal, he sneaks out to his favorite local steak-house. I don't know which is worse, our variety meats or his red meat. I guess to each his own. I think I have learned a more nutritious way of cooking. (Maybe! ) However, when the spectre of recession hovers over us, not to even mention dreaded depression, the old days and old ways do not seem so bad. A simple life was a good life when it was always seasoned with love.