"Gifts of of Days"

I believe that within the span of a day we are given gifts!  The trick is to notice what's in front of us and take it into our conscienousness so that we can enjoy what we've been given.  I'm as guilty as the next person of having squandered untold presents, leaving them unnoticed and never enjoyed.  We are all encumbered by life's obligations, some imposed by others and some self-imposed.  Current events and career and family expectations heaped upon our already demanding and over-burdened daily "to-do list" makes "taking time to smell the roses" just another thing we are "supposed" to do.  So I write this to say that I was once there and it was not until I retired, my young family grown that I made the choice to slow the pace of my days.  I am so glad that it was a choice I got to make as opposed to something catastrophic like my health or that of my husband or children that took a turn toward the worse.  I am very fortunate!

So think of this reminder as just that--a nudge to help you think about making time for the gifts you may be leaving here, there, everywhere, unopened and not enjoyed.  I'm not your mother or your spouse or even your teacher that is nagging you to get something done, turned in. I'm just someone asking you to take care of you!  I'm going to share with you some moments in a day that have made me smile, lowered my heart rate and blood pressure and "slowed my roll" as my son often says.  Enjoy! 

 

Grandchildren. 

 A good bed.

Good coffee.

Frosty mornings.

A warm fire.

Your own backyard.

Sunsets.

 And unexpected kiss.

A great cup of tea in your best teacup.

Holding hands.

The best of natures bounty.

This is my gift to you--a little nudge to help remind YOU to enjoy your gifts of everyday.  And be sure to give thanks to the Creator. 

                                                               "Nana the Great"

Yes, Nana the Great! My daughter-in-love, (no that's not a typo!  That is what she is to me) Kayla is this precious one's grandmother and I am the great grandmother.  And I am Katy and Macy's Nana.  So now my stature has been elevated to Nana the Great.  Of all the names that I've been called over the years the top three remain--Mom, Nana and now Nana the Great!  It just keeps getting better thus, I do aspire to live long enough to be called Nana the Greatest Great, fully realizing that I could be well into my 100s before that happens.  But a woman can dream and I do a whole bunch of that!

I've made her blankets and given her the best stroller we could find, after reading all the research and reviews.  We have already bought part of her Christmas gifts from me and Papa the Great.  And my sweet granddaughter, Katy never fails to send us photos, videos and texts weekly that help us keep up with her every move.  And our ever so thoughtful daughter-in-love has kept us in the know and in photos since the day of her birth.  But I want to hold her and kiss the top of that little downy head and blow on her belly and hear her laugh.  I want to give her a taste of ice cream and watch her splash in the bathtub.  I want to experience the wonder of rustling leaves in the trees under which she and I are stretched out on a quilt in the backyard and so much more as she goes from one baby stage to the next.  I want to experience the wonders of the world through her eyes, as I did with her little momma, Katy and with her Auntie Macy and before that with Matt or Big Papa as he is now called, and with her Auntie Ashley.

So now I'm going to introduce her to you by photos, as I was introduced, to Blakely Diane Whaler.  Drum roll please!

This was taken on July 4th.  Bodie calls it America the Beautiful.  He is right.

Yes she has her Mom's and her Nana's ability to change her mood on a moments notice!

More to come and a full report after we have the pleasure of meeting Blakely in person!

                                                   "Let's Talk Pickles, Shall We?"

To pickle or not to pickle has never been the question at this house.  Even if I think there is no such  thing as a great cheeseburger, without a heaping mess of sliced dills on it. If I had no craving for that salty tang of a good dill pickle, I would still insist on making as many jars as my three little pickle vines will produce.  Why?  Because Bodie and I love them and I like to share a jar with friends and family that I know have a taste for my pickles.  It's that simple.

And because pickles are one of those foods that elicits strong opinions, and I began to write this story I thought I should also do a bit of research regarding the "sour" history and lore of this decidedly controvercial vegetable.  Right away I discovered that Cleopatra ate pickles to maintain her legendary youth and beauty.  And Christopher Columbus had the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria stocked with this vitamen-rich vegetable for his crews to eat, thereby staving off scurvy as they made their historic crossing of the Atlantic.  I kid you not!  This is pure fact but, I will also admit that I'm not above "gherkin" your chain on this!  And history goes on to claim that Alice Roosevelt once said of her father's political foe, Calvin Coolidge, "He looks like he was weaned on a pickle"!  But I must share another completely irrelevant quote from Miss Roosevelt--"If you don't have anything nice to say, come sit by me." OK!  I know I said politics would not be a part of my posts but on this one, you're just going to have to "dill" with it! It's been said that it "takes a sour woman" to make a good pickle. Interpret that as you wish my Darlin's.

These are some of my bread and butter pickles and in the background are pickled onions, tomatoes and cucumbers. It is against the laws of nature to ever eat a bowl of beans and cornbread without the accompanying condiments of bread and butter pickles, fried okra and potatoes, yellow crook-neck squash casserole, fresh green onions and sliced tomatoes.  And though Bodie and I often eat this meal as one of our weekly "meatless" meals, I would never consider serving this to guests without fried chicken. The long line of women who taught me polite southern manners would "roll over in their graves".  And speaking of those revered souls, my maternal great grandmother, Mammye, in her later years, got up every morning and fried a chicken---just in case one of her friends died. That, dear modern girls is manners and devotion!

On to my dill pickle recipe.

So you can make dill slices or spears and I think both lend themselves to our pickle enjoyment.           But you must have a good glass of tea within your reach to fortify you for the task at hand.

                                  

                                                   Suzanne's Refrigerator Dill Pickles

This recipe will make 4 pints of tightly packed pickles. And will keep for weeks if refrigerated.

4-5 cucumbers, sliced or cut into spears and placed in clean jars

In a medium sauce pan add the next 4 ingredients and bring to a boil. 

2 c. water

1-1/2 c. apple cider vinegar

4-5 Tbsp. Kosher salt or less if your taste/health dictates

2-1/2 Tbsp. sugar

As soon as the liquid comes to a boil, remove from heat and cool to room temperature.  While liquid is cooling add to jars:

1 tsp. minced garlic (I use the garlic already minced from the grocery)

1 tsp. pickling spice (I use Pendery's Mixed Pickling Spice.  You can order online at

                                   www.penderys.com)  I believe this is key to the success of my pickles.

1/2 tsp. whole black peppercorns

1/2 to 1 tsp. dried crushed dill weed

and a sprig of fresh dill gives your finished product an appetizing appearance but its optional.

Pour cooled vinegar mixture into your jars, seal and refrigerate for at least a day or two before serving to get the best taste.

** For making bread and butter pickles I invested in a crinkle cut knife from Amazon.com.  It makes them look like you care and are a pro in the kitchen.

"Two American Heroes"

As we lay to rest John Lewis I want to leave you with a quote from his book, Across That Bridge: Life Lessons Learned and a Vision for Change, "We are one people, one family, the human family, and what affects one of us affects us all."  And one of my favorite quotes from President Barack Obama, "A change is brought about because ordinary people do extraordinary things"

We are living in unprecedented times.  And I have seen so many ordinary people doing things that are truly extraordinary.  The citizens, including our children of this nation, are proving everyday that we are a great nation of talented and caring individuals.  Indeed we always have been great!  John Lewis came from humble beginnings and even as he experienced many setbacks in his life, he always came back stronger.  That is the mark or an extraordinary person!  All of us are exraordinary, talented, and creative in our own way.  Our nation is being challenged and it is indeed the ordinary person doing extraordinary things that will bring this nation through these turbulent and dangerous times.  Thank you for your service to this nation and rest in peace John Robert Lewis.

  

Even though I wrote this some time ago, I am reposting this because there are many young women and men who are finding it difficult to pursue their dreams of attaining an education. All of us have met with obstacles and though mine were not the same as yours, they WERE a challenge.  You can get an education!  I promise you, that if you want it bad enough you will find a way. Keep your focus and do what you have to do.  Don't be afraid to ask for help because somebody WILL help you.  You are the future of this nation.     

The Importance of Education

I’m always writing something and the prerequisite for committing my thoughts to paper is that I would not be ashamed if my kids, my granddaughters or my mother were to see it.  And while Momma has moved on to her Heavenly home and my own kids know me too well to be very surprised at anything I say and/or do, my granddaughters are still somewhat impressed with me  and are just as likely to find things not meant for their edification as I was at their ages.  I remember prowling in my parent’s attic once and hitting the jackpot—Daddy’s love letters to momma while he was in Guam in 1945.  He innocently professed his undying love for my mother in the most poignant prose and it was completely G-rated (“cause that’s how they did things back then”).  However, when you are thirteen, seeing that kinda mushy stuff involving your parents is completely disgusting!  Of course I shared it with my siblings and we giggled and told our neighbors and caused my parents some blushing explanations and I got a stern lecture about not “getting into other people’s business”.  Ok, now I’m completely off course for the subject of this story.  I’ll rein it in!

Let me try this again.  I want to write a little piece that will reflect well on the value of an education and how that most things worth doing are never without a certain amount of effort.  I’ll start by explaining that while I do have a M. ED in guidance and counseling, it was that first degree in elementary education, that took me seven years to attain.  Yes, I was on the seven year, two babies and a sick husband plan.   Some semesters Bodie, my husband and greatest cheerleader, had to be admitted to Scott & White Hospital due to uncontrolled Chron’s Disease.     While I was there with him my sister, my sisters-in-law and/or Bodie’s mother would care for our kids.  I can never repay this debt of gratitude!  This was early on in my quest for a higher education.  I often had to drop the six hours I was enrolled for and try it again during another semester.  In 1973, I was enrolled at Weatherford College taking British Literature and Child Growth and Development when I went in to labor two weeks early and Ashley was born April 24^th---two weeks before the semester ended.  When I called my professors both said they would take the grade I had and Dr. Johnson, said that he would just allow my “first-hand experience” to stand as my final exam in my Child Development class.  Both he and Janine Irby wished me the best.  I made two A’s and acquired six more hours toward my degree.  Whew!  After that I took a year or so off to be a full-time momma but never giving up my desire for an education. 

Most years I went just part-time until the last forty five hours or so and by then Matt was in school and Ashley went to Mother’s Day Out at our church so I could devote all day on Tuesdays and Thursdays to classes.  The last summer session before I graduated both kids went to Oklahoma and stayed with my sister for three weeks and fought tooth and nail with my niece over, of all things, Hostess Twinkies.  Much later in their lives my daughter gave my niece, Amber, a pair of flannel pajamas made from fabric that had what on it---Twinkies!

I was not the only woman who was “moving Heaven and Earth” to get a degree that would inevitably make life better for our families.  Those last few semesters there were at least five of us who met in the grocery store parking lot and all piled in to one car to make the trip to Denton.  Gas was after all nearly sixty cents a gallon! We studied; we sought out child-rearing advice from each other; we shared recipes and job leads and one of us had a boat with a particularly deep hull and we heard ad nauseam about her “deep boat”!  But we encouraged each other.  And I want to mention, no I should actually write a book about the necessity and blessings of having friends that are women. 

There was one day though that will forever be etched in my mind.  That day was the last day of the Fall semester of 1978.  Only Judy McClurkan, Bodie’s cousin, and I had finals that day so we met and rode to Texas Women’s University together.  We were quiet on the drive up, each of us going through mental notes in preparation for a nine o’clock exam.   The weather was particularly bitter cold and the wind was howling and because of this we agreed to meet at the campus bookstore so that if one of us finished earlier than the other we’d not be waiting out in the cold.  After finishing our respective finals and meeting up again we ran for the car.  One of us suggested that we stop at K-Mart on our way out of town and get a celebratory $2.00 platter of nachos that we could share for lunch.  I mean why not splurge?  With the weather getting dicier by the minute, we whipped into a parking place right by the door (my daughter’s friends says that finding such a nearby parking place is like finding a Golden penis.  Yes, even my mother would have appreciated the idea of a Golden penis and she would darn sure have seen the humor in the analogy).  Feeling the need for food and expediency we rushed back to the food section grabbing a huge, cheesy platter of nachos and two Dr. Peppers and madly dashed for her car as sleet bounced off windshields.  We jumped in and Judy turned to me and said, “I know you won’t but, don’t roll your window down because it will not roll back up.”  “OK”, I said never imagining why I would NEED to roll down a window in this weather.   But you know what they say about “never”!  Oh yeah!  About halfway between Lake Worth and Denton I rolled down the window and threw out an exceptionally cheesy napkin because I didn’t dare leave such an item in her car.  On my stars and garters!  I immediately realized my mistake!   That  lowered window would not budge no matter how much I worked the handle.  She looked at me with an expression of pure hatred and patted the bench seat beside her.  Good Gosh Almighty, I did NOT want to sit that close to her when she was that pissed-off at me!  But the sleet flying through that gaping hole felt like someone flinging icy needles into my face.  So we snuggled up and pulled the hoods of our coats up and continued down I-35 in total silence, save the 75 MPH wind rushing through the window.  And I think she would still be angry at me except that when we cruised up to a stop sign, not too far from our destination, a carload of several really good-looking guys wheeled up beside us and started making “kissy faces” and shouting at us.  (Remember this was 1978)  We both looked at each other and literally screamed with laughter!  We drove into the Albertson’s Supermarket parking lot and frightened the woman in the car next to mine with peals of hysterical guffaws!  Tears streamed down our faces and I got the hiccups.  But Lord Have Mercy what an experience and how funny that was!  And all for the pursuit of higher learning.

I’m forever grateful to all the dear souls in my life that made it possible for me to get the sheepskin and for me it has certainly paid off in spades.  But life is the real education!  And as  the old saying goes, “We can do this the hard way or we can do this my way”.   I choose my way.  And that means finding the humor in a situation.  Life too often gives us no choices but the hard way.  If a little laughter makes it more tolerable why not laugh!

I hope that an education has made it such that neither of us ever find ourselves having to ride for very long in a car with a broken window in a winter storm or with no air conditioning in a broiling Texas summer. But for her grandchildren and mine, I hope they at least ONCE drive into “student parking” with no air conditioning or a broken window.   I hope they have to ONCE choose buying a used college text book over a new pair of shoes.   I hope they have to at least ONCE get up early or stay late to finish a job before they can attend classes.  I hope they must at least ONCE have to choose between going to bed when you are bone-tired and studying for a history test.  In fact, I know that Judy and I had to, more than ONCE, study for a test after putting a child with chicken pox or a snotty nose and sore throat into bed with tired husbands, while placing a jar of Calamine lotion or a bottle of children’s Robitussin on the nightstand.  And we did this while folding a load of laundry.  But for her grandchildren and mine, I hope they do get to do these things just ONCE and I pray that just once is enough so that they can truly appreciate the opportunity they have been given---an education that no one can ever take away.  And Judy and I were not the only women who did this.  We were just two of millions of the modern-day pioneer women---the girls of the ‘60s who became women and mothers and wives and employees of the ‘70s.  We were the Boomer women---the ones whose idea was not ---“you could have it all”---rather we realized you CAN indeed have it all, just not all at the same time! 

Rudyard Kipling once wrote the poem “If” about how to be a man.  And here is my version about how to be a woman.

                                                        “Not If-- But When”

When you can keep your head when all about you

Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,

When you can trust yourself when everyone else doubts you,

But smile in the face of their doubts;

When you can summon the strength to be patient,

And not be worn through with the effort

Or of being disliked, even momentarily, by the very ones you love the most

And yet look damn good and talk with wisdom and courage;

When you can dream and believe in the reality of such dreams;

When you think and make those thoughts desire;

When you meet with Triumph and Disaster

And meet the two experiences with grace and aplomb;

When you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken

Twisted by those who seek to bring you to your knees

Or watch the ideas you’ve given your life to, broken

Yet stoop to rebuild them from the shattered pieces;

When you can make a heap of all your winnings

Lose it all in one fell swoop, and start again from the ashes of the ruins;

When you can force your heart and nerve and sinew

To follow your will long after they are gone,

And hold on when there is nothing left in you

Except the will which says to you: “Hold on”!

When you can talk with scoundrels and keep your virtue,

Whether walking with Queens, beggars or children—never losing the human touch,

When foe or friends can hurt you, yet you can forgive each in equal time,

When all can count on you, but none too much;

When you can fill the unforgiving moment

With sixty seconds worth of empathy,

Yours is the Earth and everything in it

And--- which is more---you’ll be an EDUCATED WOMAN, my daughters!   

I just want to add that I believe education is a lifelong aspiration.  I and so many of us are still aspiring.  As with life—it is not the destination, but the journey! 

One of my favorite quotes about women is “Good women—may we know them; may we be them; may we raise them.”

The Importance of Education

I’m always writing something and the prerequisite for committing my thoughts to paper is that I would not be ashamed if my kids, my granddaughters or my mother were to see it.  And while Momma has moved on to her Heavenly home and my own kids know me too well to be very surprised at anything I say and/or do, my granddaughters are still somewhat impressed with me  and are just as likely to find things not meant for their edification as I was at their ages.  I remember prowling in my parent’s attic once and hitting the jackpot—Daddy’s love letters to momma while he was in Guam in 1945.  He innocently professed his undying love for my mother in the most poignant prose and it was completely G-rated (“cause that’s how they did things back then”).  However, when you are thirteen, seeing that kinda mushy stuff involving your parents is completely disgusting!  Of course I shared it with my siblings and we giggled and told our neighbors and caused my parents some blushing explanations and I got a stern lecture about not “getting into other people’s business”.  Ok, now I’m completely off course for the subject of this story.  I’ll rein it in!
Let me try this again.  I want to write a little piece that will reflect well on the value of an education and how that most things worth doing are never without a certain amount of effort.  I’ll start by explaining that while I do have a M. ED in guidance and counseling, it was that first degree in elementary education, that took me seven years to attain.  Yes, I was on the seven year, two babies and a sick husband plan.   Some semesters Bodie, my husband and greatest cheerleader, had to be admitted to Scott & White Hospital due to uncontrolled Chron’s Disease.     While I was there with him my sister, my sisters-in-law and/or Bodie’s mother would care for our kids.  I can never repay this debt of gratitude!  This was early on in my quest for a higher education.  I often had to drop the six hours I was enrolled for and try it again during another semester.  In 1973, I was enrolled at Weatherford College taking British Literature and Child Growth and Development when I went in to labor two weeks early and Ashley was born April 24^th---two weeks before the semester ended.  When I called my professors both said they would take the grade I had and Dr. Johnson, said that he would just allow my “first-hand experience” to stand as my final exam in my Child Development class.  Both he and Janine Irby wished me the best.  I made two A’s and acquired six more hours toward my degree.  Whew!  After that I took a year or so off to be a full-time momma but never giving up my desire for an education. 
Most years I went just part-time until the last forty five hours or so and by then Matt was in school and Ashley went to Mother’s Day Out at our church so I could devote all day on Tuesdays and Thursdays to classes.  The last summer session before I graduated both kids went to Oklahoma and stayed with my sister for three weeks and fought tooth and nail with my niece over, of all things, Hostess Twinkies.  Much later in their lives my daughter gave my niece, Amber, a pair of flannel pajamas made from fabric that had what on it---Twinkies!
I was not the only woman who was “moving Heaven and Earth” to get a degree that would inevitably make life better for our families.  Those last few semesters there were at least five of us who met in the grocery store parking lot and all piled in to one car to make the trip to Denton.  Gas was after all nearly sixty cents a gallon! We studied; we sought out child-rearing advice from each other; we shared recipes and job leads and one of us had a boat with a particularly deep hull and we heard ad nauseam about her “deep boat”!  But we encouraged each other.  And I want to mention, no I should actually write a book about the necessity and blessings of having friends that are women. 
There was one day though that will forever be etched in my mind.  That day was the last day of the Fall semester of 1978.  Only Judy McClurkan, Bodie’s cousin, and I had finals that day so we met and rode to Texas Women’s University together.  We were quiet on the drive up, each of us going through mental notes in preparation for a nine o’clock exam.   The weather was particularly bitter cold and the wind was howling and because of this we agreed to meet at the campus bookstore so that if one of us finished earlier than the other we’d not be waiting out in the cold.  After finishing our respective finals and meeting up again we ran for the car.  One of us suggested that we stop at K-Mart on our way out of town and get a celebratory $2.00 platter of nachos that we could share for lunch.  I mean why not splurge?  With the weather getting dicier by the minute, we whipped into a parking place right by the door (my daughter’s friends says that finding such a nearby parking place is like finding a Golden penis.  Yes, even my mother would have appreciated the idea of a Golden penis and she would darn sure have seen the humor in the analogy).  Feeling the need for food and expediency we rushed back to the food section grabbing a huge, cheesy platter of nachos and two Dr. Peppers and madly dashed for her car as sleet bounced off windshields.  We jumped in and Judy turned to me and said, “I know you won’t but, don’t roll your window down because it will not roll back up.”  “OK”, I said never imagining why I would NEED to roll down a window in this weather.   But you know what they say about “never”!  Oh yeah!  About halfway between Lake Worth and Denton I rolled down the window and threw out an exceptionally cheesy napkin because I didn’t dare leave such an item in her car.  On my stars and garters!  I immediately realized my mistake!   That  lowered window would not budge no matter how much I worked the handle.  She looked at me with an expression of pure hatred and patted the bench seat beside her.  Good Gosh Almighty, I did NOT want to sit that close to her when she was that pissed-off at me!  But the sleet flying through that gaping hole felt like someone flinging icy needles into my face.  So we snuggled up and pulled the hoods of our coats up and continued down I-35 in total silence, save the 75 MPH wind rushing through the window.  And I think she would still be angry at me except that when we cruised up to a stop sign, not too far from our destination, a carload of several really good-looking guys wheeled up beside us and started making “kissy faces” and shouting at us.  (Remember this was 1978)  We both looked at each other and literally screamed with laughter!  We drove into the Albertson’s Supermarket parking lot and frightened the woman in the car next to mine with peals of hysterical guffaws!  Tears streamed down our faces and I got the hiccups.  But Lord Have Mercy what an experience and how funny that was!  And all for the pursuit of higher learning.
I’m forever grateful to all the dear souls in my life that made it possible for me to get the sheepskin and for me it has certainly paid off in spades.  But life is the real education!  And as  the old saying goes, “We can do this the hard way or we can do this my way”.   I choose my way.  And that means finding the humor in a situation.  Life too often gives us no choices but the hard way.  If a little laughter makes it more tolerable why not laugh!
I hope that an education has made it such that neither of us ever find ourselves having to ride for very long in a car with a broken window in a winter storm or with no air conditioning in a broiling Texas summer. But for her grandchildren and mine, I hope they at least ONCE drive into “student parking” with no air conditioning or a broken window.   I hope they have to ONCE choose buying a used college text book over a new pair of shoes.   I hope they have to at least ONCE get up early or stay late to finish a job before they can attend classes.  I hope they must at least ONCE have to choose between going to bed when you are bone-tired and studying for a history test.  In fact, I know that Judy and I had to, more than ONCE, study for a test after putting a child with chicken pox or a snotty nose and sore throat into bed with tired husbands, while placing a jar of Calamine lotion or a bottle of children’s Robitussin on the nightstand.  And we did this while folding a load of laundry.  But for her grandchildren and mine, I hope they do get to do these things just ONCE and I pray that just once is enough so that they can truly appreciate the opportunity they have been given---an education that no one can ever take away.  And Judy and I were not the only women who did this.  We were just two of millions of the modern-day pioneer women---the girls of the ‘60s who became women and mothers and wives and employees of the ‘70s.  We were the Boomer women---the ones whose idea was not ---“you could have it all”---rather we realized you CAN indeed have it all, just not all at the same time! 
Rudyard Kipling once wrote the poem “If” about how to be a man.  And here is my version about how to be a woman.
                                                        “Not If-- But When”

When you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
When you can trust yourself when everyone else doubts you,
But smile in the face of their doubts;
When you can summon the strength to be patient,
And not be worn through with the effort
Or of being disliked, even momentarily, by the very ones you love the most
And yet look damn good and talk with wisdom and courage;

When you can dream and believe in the reality of such dreams;
When you think and make those thoughts desire;
When you meet with Triumph and Disaster
And meet the two experiences with grace and aplomb;
When you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by those who seek to bring you to your knees
Or watch the ideas you’ve given your life to, broken
Yet stoop to rebuild them from the shattered pieces;

When you can make a heap of all your winnings
Lose it all in one fell swoop, and start again from the ashes of the ruins;
When you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To follow your will long after they are gone,
And hold on when there is nothing left in you
Except the will which says to you: “Hold on”!

When you can talk with scoundrels and keep your virtue,
Whether walking with Queens, beggars or children—never losing the human touch,
When foe or friends can hurt you, yet you can forgive each in equal time,
When all can count on you, but none too much;
When you can fill the unforgiving moment
With sixty seconds worth of empathy,
Yours is the Earth and everything in it
And--- which is more---you’ll be an EDUCATED WOMAN, my daughters!   

I just want to add that I believe education is a lifelong aspiration.  I and so many of us are still aspiring.  As with life—it is not the destination, but the journey! 
One of my favorite quotes about women is “Good women—may we know them; may we be them; may we raise them.”

Yes, somedays I fancy myself a struggling poet, a Mary Oliver wannabe. Today I am inspired by the simplest of obsevations. However, I have always been a morning person.  By 3 pm on most days the world takes on an all together different hue.  And like any writer or poet or artist of any stripe, I put my heart into the creative effort and take a risk by offering it to someone to read.  Today I feel brave so...   

“MORNINGS”

Mornings!  One of God’s gifts to us.  A chance for a new beginning.

He wants us to keep trying and so…

I walk outdoors and stretch my toes in the damp grass.

A reluctant and sleepy sun, still wrapped in small white, puffy clouds

Sends long golden fingers into a dewy grass.

Birds chirping around a feeder hung in a tree for both our satisfaction.

Treetops gently swaying in a brief yet cooling breeze

And brings to me the mating call of a Tom turkey down by the pond.

I clutch my coffee with both hands, warming my fingers before taking

A jolting brace coming to me every morning as new and delicious as it has been for so many years.

I sigh, a little rumble deep in my throat.

This music of mornings is religious and ritual and sets the rhythm of my days.

Blessings and chances. Missteps and failures. All leading me to the golden serenity of now.

When I leave this earth, I hope it will be in the glory of a morning.

As my soul soars to a new home I want to feel the sun on my face,

The birds singing me home as I reach to the outstretched hand of God!

No mourning.  Just mornings! 

by Suzanne McLennan

"Tomatoes the Fruit of Love"

 

Good Morning to my friends and family! I am so happy to reconnect with you and do believe me when I tell you that I have missed our contact.  So, we may not take up where we left off, but I am ever so pleased to share my thoughts, my joys and my activities throughout the days with you.

We are entering the "dog days" of summer and like you I am searching for ways to stay refreshed--physically, mentally and spiritually.  Cooking is my "go to" when I'm antsy and need an outlet for my racing thoughts.

Today I want to share a bit of cooking with you as well as a dash of travel and a pinch of history--all of it related to the
beautiful bounty of early summer.  The French, a lovely and loving bunch indeed, called the tomato the pomme d'amour, or the Love Apple, for their belief that the exotic tomato had aphrodisiac powers.  Tomatoes might not be responsible for the romance in our lives, but eating a fresh juicy tomato, still warm from the sun and right off the vine does seem to spark a lust in some of us.

While visiting in Italy last year, I made a point of picking, not just some excellent tomatoes from a local market in Rome, but to also pick the brain of every Italian that would talk to me about cooking with tomatoes and good olive oil and fragrant homegrown aromatic herbs; of how cooking and eating in Italy is an hours long adventure into creative culinary and the sharing of food and wine and conversation with the folks that make our hearts smile prolongs the enjoyment of the entire process.  What an education travel is!

So yesterday with all this in mind, I picked a bowl of fresh San Marzano (a variety of roma tomatoes) tomatoes off two of our vines that we planted and babied and encouraged to flourish by lavishing upon them gallons of Miracle Grow Plant Food for tomatoes.  It was almost a religious experience!  I felt their warm red skins as I washed the garden dirt away and placed them in a colander. And that little dark green stem, adorning them like a sun hat. Ok, you get the picture!  Anyway I pulled some fresh onions and snipped some fresh basil and thyme from pots on the back porch brought them in for a good rinse and began the process of making a deeply rich and satisfying Tomato Basil Soup.

TOMATO BASIL SOUP

2-3 lbs. fresh tomatoes, roughly diced into 1" chunks (no need to peel or seed)

2-3 cloves garlic, finely minced

2 Tbsp. good olive oil

1 medium onion, diced

In a large non-reactive pan, slowly cook garlic and onions in olive oil.  They are perfect when the onions become translucent and the mixture is deliciously aromatic.  Add tomatoes and slowly cook   until tomatoes are soft and falling apart.  Stir often so all tomatoes get the heat evenly.  Set aside to cool slightly and then place small batches of the mixture into a blender or food processor and blend/process until they are your desired texture/size. We like a chunkier soup so I just pulse my tomatoes to suit our taste.  When you are finished with each batch return to the pan and add:

1-2 cans of tomato juice or Snappy Tom if you like it spicier

1 handful of fresh chopped basil

1 tsp. fresh thyme (optional)

1 tbsp. sugar (this takes the "bite" out of the acidic tomatoes). Don't add it if you like the acidity.  

Reheat soup and now for the secret ingredient.  Drum roll please!  To this add

1/2 c. to 1 c. of store bought pesto.  

That's my secret ingredient!  I use the pesto I buy at Sam's Club, Member's Mark Fresh Picked Basil PESTO is the brand name. The added basil and the salty tang of the Parmesan cheese adds a richness to this soup that we enjoy. Of course serve with extra fresh grated Parmesan cheese.

I hope you will enjoy this too.  I often serve this with a small Caesar salad, a slice of cantaloupe and a tall glass of good old Texas Sweet Tea.  

This soup can be made in sufficient amount to freeze in a plastic freezer bag.  It will be perfect to pull out of the freezer next fall/winter, heat and serve with a grilled cheese sandwich made with crusty bread and a mixture of cheddar and mozzarella cheeses or a nice gouda on sourdough.

I must explain that this is not a recipe I got from the cooks/chefs I met in Italy.  No absolutely not.  But it is my version of Tomato Basil Soup that fits our fast paced American lifestyle.  Their cooking and stirring and tasting all day and waiting on neighbors to bring good wines and choosing just the right lemons from the limonaie (lemon house) to place in a colorful Murano glass bowl, and not ending the meal until after midnight is a real stretch for me.  I'm all about good food and good company but even as I'm retired, I do not have all day.  I need to move on to other projects and thus I have given you my version of Tomato Basil Soup on the "Texas slow."  If you want Tomato Basil Soup in a New York Minute, buy Campbells Soup in the can, stir in a little milk and hit it with some McCormicks dried basil flakes and some salt and pepper to taste.  Make a grilled cheese with Kraft American slices and Mrs. Baird's white bread.  Come to think of it, that's not bad either! 

Buono sera!