Tag: party

Hockey Puck Latkes on Chanukah? Oh The Humanity!

From time to time throughout life stuff happens for which there is no name. So as creative humans we find it necessary to make up a designation for a new disease or illness which medical science has not yet nor probably will ever recognize.

Thus I present to you a new sickness I contracted recently and from which I still suffer. Readers, may I introduce you to Latke Trauma?

No, I haven’t completely gone off the rails. Okay so I do teeter on the edge at times I admit, but this one is actually quite logical. I’m quite certain the same thing has happened to you as well. Only now we have a name for it instead of “Boy, that Christmas ham was so tough it turned me off ham for a year.”  May I present “Ham Trauma?” Or, “boy that awful tasting egg roll caused me to lose my appetite for Chinese food.” I give you “Egg Roll Trauma.”

Sorry, I never met a pizza I didn’t like so I guess that food would be exempt from such trauma. But latkes, sadly, are not.

At Chanukah meals it has long been the custom to allow the mighty latke to take either the lead, or a very important supporting role in a cast of yummy eats during the holiday.

Latkes, so rooted in tradition they call up the flavors of childhood even into old age. When one’s teeth are on their last legs they are still able to gum a latke down. Okay so it might take a bit more sour cream, or applesauce, but it’s well worth the effort.

So now that I’ve established how I feel about latkes you will better understand my illness.

Chanukah has just passed and I, as so many others, looked forward to chowing down on some crispy, perfectly fried latkes smothered in sour cream and or applesauce.

As we all know they always taste better at someone else’s house when you don’t have to fry them yourself and have the lingering smell of oil around for weeks.

So I was thrilled to be invited to a Chanukah party at a friend’s home and anticipating my first Chanukah latke of the year.

The crowd was large and platters of food covered the extensive table. But I was transfixed on only one thing. My eyes scanned the table for the golden discs with the perfect edges.

And then I saw them. Small yes, a bit oddly shaped, but uniform, with a large mound of applesauce in the middle of the platter.

I placed two on my plate and helped myself to the applesauce. Then I looked for the sour cream.

No sour cream. Refusing to panic I walked around the table thinking it must be somewhere else. No sour cream anywhere.

I looked in the kitchen on the island filled with foods and condiments, but none in sight.

My friend walked into the room and I asked her if she had sour cream to go with the latkes.

She wasn’t sure but checked the garage refrigerator and arrived back in the kitchen with a new container. Who serves Latkes without sour cream? I know but what can I say? She’s thin.

So I plopped a portion on my plate and set out to enjoy my first latke of 2024.

I placed my fork on the side of the latke and began pressing to release it from the whole. No movement. I tried again, but the latke was unwilling to part with any size piece at all. Perhaps a knife I thought.

I took a steak knife from the caddy and began sawing my way through the potato laden disc that had now taken on a rubbery consistency. I struggled to achieve a bite and when it finally came loose I dipped it into the applesauce and sour cream with great anticipation.

Now I don’t know about you, but at this age my teeth have cost quite a bit of money to keep in my mouth. Therefore, I am quite protective over each little molar and cuspid still hanging in there with me.

I bit down and the latke fought back.

Surprisingly it had a texture I struggle to find words to describe.

Okay, I’ll try…a gummy bear married a potato and they had a baby and it sat out in the dry air for a month.

It was painful. Oh, not just for my teeth, for my psyche.

It became instantly apparent I would be having no latkes. Quell disappointment!

But don’t cry for me Argentina, I drown my sorrows in jelly donuts, but I digress.

Now, despite the fact I have all the ingredients in my home within reach to create a generous supply of latkes, I have lost my taste for them. The memory of the hockey pucks disguised as latkes haunts me and has removed my craving for them in every way.

So although my waistline is happy about this new development, I can tell you my fat cells haven’t stopped bitching. Well they actually did when I started stuffing the jelly donuts into my mouth.

So although I will never have a vaccine named after me like Jonas Salk, I have managed to name a disease that afflicts us all at times.

“Favorite Food Trauma.” The only cure is the passage of time and for me at least, a jelly donut will always manage the pain.

Do We Stop Living Before We Die?

“Age is something that doesn’t matter, unless you are a cheese. Age is strictly a case of mind over matter. If you don’t mind, it doesn’t matter.” Jack Benny.

Lately I’ve given a great deal of thought to getting older. I never had before and truth is I never believed I was or ever could be old.

That was for my grandparents and the elderly.

I wasn’t even aware of the commercials that sell you caregivers on television.

Now when I see one I get a knot in my stomach.

Can it be that I’m old?

Is aging actually something I’m actually dealing with now?

My son acts as though I need to be in a bubble and protect myself from going outside and falling.

My daughter is always saying Mom don’t run after the dog in your socks you’ll fall.

Could I feel any older. Probably not but time will tell.

So did our parents feel this way or is this sudden realization of the laugh-laugh golden years creeping up a product of the last few years?

Since Father Time always gets his way, perhaps I can rationalize this old age thing with the fact that COVID slowed us down.

But didn’t it actually?

I mean we were all going along at a speedy pace, living our lives and then wham bam we’re prisoners in our homes. Afraid to breathe too heavily, spraying our food before we unpack it and hiding from a world fraught with evil germs. Germs with the ability to sneak under our doors and through windows. Oh those pesky viruses.

Perhaps we were naïve to believe it wouldn’t affect us down the line. Or are we just getting old and looking for excuses?

I think not.

The truth is I never felt old until COVID. I felt young and optimistic about checking off items on my bucket list, and skipping into old age with vitality and an eager and excited attitude.

Yet strangly something happened and our lives hit a speed bump.

Our ability to outrun time waned a bit and we came face to face with our own mortality.

YUCK! It wasn’t a pleasant realization.

Suddenly we were all talking about our health.

Making plans like, when COVID is over I’ll get that knee replaced. And sure I’ll take a trip when it’s safe again.

And we all ran screaming from the house when it was. Safe again, at least we thought it was.

But something had happened to us.

Mentally we lost a bit of the spring in our step.

We walked more carefully and weren’t so quick to run headlong into adventures.

We hated being stuck at home and weren’t in any way eager to repeat that experience by being sick or falling.

So many of us became more cautious. Some ran headlong into life once again trying to make up for lost time, but too many felt just a bit hesitant to take chances or risks any longer.

We began treasuring and protecting every day and prioritizing how to to spend it.

I actually have friends who would rather stay at home now than venture out and risk illness.

It’s as if the world lost its appeal. The excitement of living took a hit and we all suddenly came to terms with our limitations. Not so much fun.

Yes, many sought to make up for lost time, but isn’t that actually an oxymoron? We all know deep down you can’t recover time and once its gone well, so long.

I suppose there are two ways of looking at this.

One we must realize that the time we have left at this party is more precious than ever. To waste even a minute would be foolish and now more than ever living must be a priority.

However there are those who have decided perhaps being more cautious is the better way to

simply move forward.

That the series of constant doctor appointments, risks our cities now present and new diseases would be better dealt with carefully.

So when does the fun start up again? Where are the party hats and noise makers?

I mean when you get to the golden years aren’t you supposed to have the time to enjoy life. The freedom to tackle those projects you put on hold while raising a family, working or building a life?

Where are those adventures we see in all the cruise line ads and travel pitches with happy older people running through the capitals and wonders of the world smiling and waving?

Sometimes going to the grocery store, especially with today’s prices, seems like quite an adventure.

I’m sad to say that vulnerability that comes with age seems to have exacerbated with the COVID years and the ability to slough all that downtime off isn’t as easy as task as we believed.

So what can we do to undo the damage?

Is there a way to restore  youthful attitude? An optimistic mindset and skip headlong into life once more?

Perhaps it is possible to recapture some of that zest for living we once possessed. Maybe thinking too long and hard about living life is actually preventing us from doing so.

I imagine just booking a trip, and I understand the state of the world I truly do, would be a great first start to living again.

If there is somewhere you want to see consider visiting it in easier ways. Instead of a foot tour perhaps an ocean or river cruise?

A private tour company might be best.

Maybe there’s a charity gig you’ve always wanted to do. Or friends or relatives you haven’t visited in too long.

What about a tour of that gallery or museum you’ve been wanting to see? Or a symphony or concert you put on hold? I’m not a travel agent but I do know one thing. A trip to the doctor to check on that knee replacement isn’t something you dreamed about when you were thirty.

So no matter how easy it’s been to hold down that position on the couch and watch the new Netflix offering, now more than ever we need to push ourselves to live.

Like Auntie Mame used to say, “Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving.”

Maybe it’s time we all grabbed a seat at life’s table and started stuffing ourselves with some great adventures and new exciting memories.

Love to hear where you went when you get home with all the fun stuff to report. And I am really glad your hip replacement is doing its job.