Tag: turkey

It’s the Time of Year to Share Our Childhood Memories

This time of year is prone to dredge up memories of long ago tucked away in the recesses of one’s mind. I’m not quite certain it’s the holidays or perhaps that whole getting older and long-term memory that creates a sudden rush of childhood recollections.

I simply know that they are coming in droves.

Of course there is that desire to recapture earlier times spent with family and friends, laced with bittersweet emotions of loss and regret.

For myself living so far from my childhood home I find a lack of snow matters. No blanket of white feels as if an old friend that visited every season has deserted me in lieu of palm trees and blue skies.

Now believe me I’m not saying slipping and sliding along the streets in the cold and slush would be preferable, but there was something about falling snowflakes that just felt right.

I also seem focused on school around the holidays.

We strained at the bit to reach that last day before winter break when a teacher would dress up as Santa and pass out candy canes and Vernor’s Ginger Ale.

Our elementary school was named after James Vernor of the ginger ale company so they gifted us with their soda and candy canes each year.

Santa would be played by a teacher covered in a beard and of course we would whisper about who it might be as we waited in line for our treats.

Childhood seemed quite naïve and innocent so small moments were intensified and more special. We even believed hiding in the school basement under asbestos pipes would prevent an atom bomb from harming us. Silly, right?

Or that a wooden desk would hide us from a nuclear blast.  Either they didn’t know the truth or weren’t about to share it with all of us. Seems so foolish now.

Baby Boomers lived a life full of new discoveries. Television began small and black and white forcing us at times to strain to see the picture among snowy waves.

We used rabbit ear antennas on the television set covered with aluminum foil to enhance the signal as we moved them back and forth while our brother directed until the picture clarity was optimum.

Snowy or clear we rushed home to watch the Mickey Mouse Club and later American Bandstand. Our eyes transfixed on this new way to be entertained and transfixed.

I begged my mother to let me stay up and watch Milton Berle on Tuesday nights and still vividly remember the Texaco servicemen that started the show.

We had strange puppets like Rootie Kazootie and Howdy Doody with visible strings. We never minded or enjoyed them any less; in fact, being able to discern the strings was part of the fun. Every kid wanted to be part of the peanut gallery. Then, when a TV dinner on a metal tray table was added to the mix, it all seemed too perfect.

We even had party lines on the phone for a short time as the new technology was growing faster than the company could provide. Limiting use the phone to only certain times seems comical now when we can’t put it down for a minute.

Could you imagine kids today being told they had to share their phone with someone else? I believe it would lead to some violent revolution.

But to us it was a new magical instrument we were happy to have for any amount of time. A new way to broaden our horizons and communicate with friends.

There was no Google, only sets of Encyclopedias, no computers, only visits to the library branch nearest our homes.

We could spend a lazy summer afternoon reading and sharing comic books like Archie, Katy Keene or Superman with friends munching on snacks. Candy bars were two cents or a nickel and we drank cherry cokes or chocolate phosphates at soda counters served up by kids in white jackets and hats.

We played hopscotch, four square, jumped rope, played jacks and roller skated in metal skates with our key on a ribbon around our neck. Marbles clinked along the sidewalk and we traded movie star pictures cut out of fan magazines.

We ordered the scholastic books from school and couldn’t wait to read them when they arrived.

It seemed the smallest things were a big deal back then. Including rushing over to the first neighbor’s house on the block to own a color television.

Obviously, I’m waxing nostalgic about a time that is now gone forever. Our grandchildren are living in a new world filled with things we only read about in science fiction novels.

Technology that causes my eyes to glaze over as my kids or grandkids attempt to explain it to me.

Our children do battle to keep them innocent and away from the screens and kudos to them for doing so. Yet the world changes each day and new innovation is now moving at a faster pace than ever before.

I’m certain someday our grandchildren will look back on their childhoods with a sense of joy and wonder as we do, at least I hope so.

Was our innocence a good or bad trait? Were we blindsided a bit finding the future was often as scary as Orwell had predicted, or Flash Gordon was actually Neil Armstrong? Were we literally over the moon when man first landed there in front of our eyes?

Am I implying Baby Boomers don’t embrace this new world and its wonders? Heck no! We are all into it big time and enjoying the ride. It’s just nice to wax nostalgic at times and remember our innocence.

Each generation will experience new and uncharted roads to travel. I hope wonder and peace will continue to be a part of their journey. I know it was ours. As much as things change one thing never does…the smell of a turkey roasting in the oven on Thanksgiving. We can all be thankful for that.

Please share your memories with me, I’d love to hear them.

Thanksgiving Just Keeps on Giving

I’m pretty sure most people consider Thanksgiving, if not their favorite, at least one of their top three holidays. I would have to raise my hand for it as number one.

It’s not so much about the food, although the smell of roasting turkey in the oven should be a candle you can burn all year.

It conjures up memories of being young, home from school and sitting in front of the TV watching the parades.

When I was young there was more than just Macy’s parade. In Detroit we also had a Hudson’s parade presented by a popular department store filled with local familiar floats and celebrities.

The smell of pumpkin pies baking, mashed potatoes mashing, string beans stringing and Yams yamming was such a heady scent I felt as though I was floating in culinary heaven.

The dining room table was always set with my mother’s best china and my grandparents arrival was the highlight of the day. My grandfather and I would watch the floats go by as my grandmother helped in the kitchen.

The house was a buzz of activity and there was a feeling the word cozy had been invented to describe such a day.

It seemed everyone settled into an activity as we filled our heads with the aromas emanating throughout the house. It was as if the world stopped so we could all have the time to enjoy the day’s moments. It’s an easy day where the only lesson is gratitude. Okay so maybe you don’t need that second piece of pumpkin pie is lesson two.

Happily nothing seems to have changed from those youthful days.

Thanksgiving seems to have cornered the market on foods that go together perfectly. There is a harmony about the flavors unlike any other.

The turkey still emits a divine odor, the parade still moves along toward 34th street and now families can choose to watch football or the National Dog Show after the floats have finished floating along.

So what is it about Thanksgiving that makes everyone feel so content? Is it the knowledge it is a holiday we share with everyone? That the entire country is together enjoying the day? Is it the vivid memories it evokes? Or the fact we wear our elastic waists and pay no heed to calorie restrictions?  Perhaps a reminder that the parade continues despite everything. That there will be bright floats and balloons even after darkness.

There is a sadness that didn’t exist when I was a child. A void those we loved once filled and we all content ourselves with the fact there is still family around the table and watching the parade.

Is it a bit tempting to dwell on the happy memories of youth and the loss of those no longer here?

Absolutely. But we all seem to enjoy our family and perhaps friends and of course wisdom tells us loss is a part of life we must accept.

I guess that’s why the very name of the holiday reminds us of what it is truly about.

Remembrance and gratitude for what was and what is. Acceptance and joy for the continuation of our own journey.

Sadly, there are some things we never seem to learn. Like the fact there is only so much room inside us for all the food and no matter how much we force down we will pay.

Stuffing food down my throat like a goose as if I were making pate, never works out well and we moan and groan our way into the next day.

It wouldn’t be Thanksgiving unless we all complained about overeating and forced in that last bite of pie.

So of course, despite the fact we all waddle around like bloated ducks we seem to miraculously find more room for the leftovers.

In the spirit of recreating the delight of Thanksgiving dinner I am including one of my favorite recipes for enjoying all the leftovers. It’s delicious and easy and I created it because I don’t like waiting too long to enjoy Thanksgiving flavors again.

Wishing you a happy holiday with all those you love. Smelling the smells, tasting the tastes and recalling the wonderful memories.

Thanksgiving Snoozles

Two sheets of puff pastry

3 ½ cups mashed potatoes

1cup string bean casserole

1 cup cooked turkey

½ cup of stuffing

Add stuffing and green beans to mashed potatoes

Spread evenly on puff pastry sheet

Add turkey shredded or cut into small pieces over mixture

Roll over once and cut Roll over again and cut and repeat this until all cut.

Place in well buttered muffin tins and place a puff pastry pumpkin on top.

Brush with egg wash.

Bake at 375 for 25 to 30 minutes until puff pastry is cooked.

Leftover cranberry sauce can be used inside the Snoozles, but I always find it is delicious as a dip for the Snoozles.

Mirror Mirror on the Wall Father Time You’ve Got Some Gall!

Mirror Mirror on the Wall

Father Time You’ve Got Some Gall 

Who loves mirrors? Raise your hands if you think mirrors are your friends?

Funny I think we’re divided down age lines on that one.

When I was young during the American Revolution, I saw the mirror as a necessary evil. One needed to use it to make up, do your hair and ensure that mountainous blemish has succumbed to the clearasil.

As I aged I realized mirrors were slowly becoming a foe. So I was happy that my close up vision allowed for some degree of blurriness while putting on lipstick or eye make up and disguising a bit of the wrinkling that was attacking my skin.

However, as any woman knows it’s impossible to allow the blurry make up thing to continue unless you don’t mind looking like Gloria Swanson in Sunset Blvd. And no I was definitely not ready for my closeup. So we all must admit that sooner or later the old magnifying mirror must enter our life.

And there it stands on the bathroom counter, defying me and showing no mercy. Determined to bring home the reality of what’s going on around my eyes, the puppet lines that are suddenly giving me the appearance of Howdy Doody and a forehead that cries out for Botox.

I often wonder where and who was the first woman to look into a mirror. I did some checking and according to Google, or as I refer to it, my default brain, the earliest known manufactured mirrors, approximately 8000 years old were found in Anatolia in south central modern Turkey. They were made from obsidian (volcanic glass), had a convex surface and with remarkably good optical quality. Is that where the phrase turkey neck was coined?

The mirrors we use today are from Germany 200 years ago. Google says that in 1835, German chemist Justus von Liebig developed a process for applying a thin layer of metallic silver to one side of a pane of clear glass.

I will refrain from any obvious comments about the evil of Germany here. 

So is it the mirror’s fault that a close up of my face is showing more crags than the Rocky Mountains?

Shall I blame a magnifying mirror for the ravages of time?

Yes, I definitely feel that’s the way to go here.

I mean who can I blame, Father Time? Sure, if I could find the old coot I’d kick him in the ass for rushing the years and showing no mercy. But where is he? Where does he hide out? If anyone knows please let me know? In the meantime I feel perfectly comfortable blaming the damn magnifying mirror for my shortcomings.

I didn’t invent the ten times magnification. I could never be that cruel. To enhance a face and make every wrinkle look like the Grand Canyon, who could possibly think this was a good idea? I believe his name is Satan, although he goes by other names.

Ever since my childhood mirrors have gotten a bad rap.

After all everyone knows that the wicked queen used her trusty mirror to verify Snow White’s beauty and the mirror was her ally.

Oops, so the mirror was aligned with evil. Hmmm?

So from the time we are old enough to hear fairy tales we are taught that mirrors aren’t so up and up and can be used to evoke evil intentions.

Still we go through childhood believing they are there to ensure the lipstick falls between our lip line, our hair looks okay in the front and back and our eye make-up is actually placed around our eyes.

We use mirrors constantly, looking and primping and then suddenly the day comes when we are squinting to see. The mirror is suddenly blurry and we can no longer tell if our lipstick is on our lips or heading toward our ears leaving a pink highway along our cheek.

So we are faced with a dilemma. Should we ignore the obvious and simply begin looking like we got dressed in the dark? Or should we put on our big girl pants and go out and buy a magnifying mirror?

At first we start with low magnification like, four or six or seven times. But little by little we are forced to up the ante until we reach the dreaded ten times when suddenly there it all is. Right before our eyes in gigantic proportions.

Suddenly our face looks like a linen skirt we’ve been sitting on in ninety-degree weather for hours.

We tell ourselves it’s the mirror and it’s overblown. Our face doesn’t look like this. Where once my face looked like the Sea of Tranquility it now looks like a crater where a meteor landed. 

So suddenly mirrors present an existential crisis. Do we stop looking in mirrors altogether?

I guess one could live that way. Just make sure if you have spinach for dinner you make someone check your teeth afterward.

Or we could look into a regular mirror and risk putting our eyeshadow on our lips by accident.

Or we could bite the bullet and buy a magnifying mirror. I suppose, the size would depend on how big a masochist one is.

The ten would have to be for those who wish to truly punish themselves.

Maybe a four-times or so might work to at least ensure your make up actually lands on your face.

I have nothing against mirrors, well I kinda do, but it’s not their fault.

I need to go mano a mano with that creep Father Time. I have a feeling he’s hiding inside some women’s wrinkles who avoids mirrors on purpose.

Just wait, you old evil creep till I get my hands on you. I‘ll do such a job on your face, you’ll never be able to look into a mirror again. And then maybe you’ll know how we feel.

Easy Southwestern Salad

This is an easy salad to make and incredibly filling and tasty. It also makes enough to feed a family and most ingredients are already in your pantry or fridge. Enjoy!

I head of lettuce cut up or torn

I tomato cut up

2 fresh avocados 

4 strips of bacon cooked and then cut up

3 hard boiled eggs

1 cup of sweet corn

2 radishes sliced thin

1 heaping cup of shredded Mexican Cheese

tortilla chips or garlic croutons

taco seasoning

salt and pepper to taste

1 /2 cup of mayo

14/ cup of sour cream,

½ teaspoon of cilantro

one lime freshly squeezed or 1 teaspoon of lime juice

Lime Dressing

In a bowl add sour cream, mayo and lime juice with a ½ teaspoon of cilantro and a light sprinkling of salt. Mix until smooth and everything is incorporated. Refrigerate until salad is done.

Salad

Hard boil the eggs and peel and let cool then slice. Cook bacon until crispy and then cut up the lettuce and tomato. 

Place everything but the avocado and tortilla chips or garlic croutons into a large salad bowl and season to taste. Taste as you go as this should be a salad that highlights the fresh ingredients not the seasonings.

Toss lightly with salad dressing then peel and cut up avocados and add to salad. Add chips or croutons just before serving so they remain crispy. 

This salad can be adjusted to taste every easily. If you like salsa you can add it to the dressing it will taste great.  If you want to add shrimp or chicken or steak go for it!

Getting Old Sucks!

Getting Old Sucks!

No, I don’t want to hear anyone say, “Sure, but it’s better than the alternative.”

Excuse me, but no one really knows that for sure do they? For all we know the alternative could be Wonkaland or a hut over the water in Bora Bora. Or maybe a massage every day throughout eternity and then a buffet filled with your favorite foods minus calories. Or surrounded by the people you love all the time and they aren’t allowed to criticize you or get on your nerves.

Wow, Paradise!

So now that we’ve put the whole best alternative myth to rest let’s get real shall we?

I seem to spend most of my time lately between doctor visits and healing from surgeries to replace broken parts, talking about the past.

Friends and I commiserate about the good old days when childhood was simple, and how we actually walked back and forth to school, alone. In winter we’d wrap up in ten layers of jackets, undershirts (which my father insisted I wear over my bra) then march out into the cold snowy day alongside a friend.  

I still have a difficult time reconciling how I walked so much as a kid, even home for lunches, played outside, yet still was fat. What’s up with that? I guess I’m over the exercise-keeps-you-thin theories.

I read a study years ago that because Baby Boomers were so active as kids it is easier for us to get back into shape again, than for our children to get into shape in the first place.

Supposedly our muscle memory is still there waiting in the wings for us to run a marathon or walk miles.

Excuse me? As a friend reminded me when hearing that piece of information, her muscle memory now has dementia. I found it hard to argue with that diagnosis. When I call upon my body to pick its flabby ass up off the couch and walk the miles through Costco, it answers me with some incredibly salty language I choose not to repeat.

“Hello, Norma to muscle memory. Wake up and come on down.”

I never knew a muscle was capable of giving someone the finger.

I totally understand why our memories can instantly remember over fifty years ago yet forget last week. Thinking about the wonderful times with friends and family when we were young in a far easier world is a special kind of comfort. One usually reserved for a warm, gooey chocolate chip cookie or that first bite of turkey and stuffing on Thanksgiving.

There is definite pleasure in recalling happy moments when we were carefree, and remembering to come in the house when the streetlights came on was our only responsibility.

Of course everyone knows that old age is challenging and some seem to coast through while others have to schlep along. Is the difference good genes, attitude, sheer luck or perhaps something else?

I think it may be a combination of all with a hefty dose of genetics thrown in for good measure.

To me it seems those who truly cope well are those who’ve lightened their load.

No, I don’t mean weight, at least not in the sense you might think.

I’m referring to lightening the heavy burden of regrets, hurts, anger and sadness we all carry with us attached to our hearts in an invisible sack.

Should we, how could we, had we, why didn’t we, are the words that still haunt and drag us down every time we say or think them.

If I had only, how could I have thought, etc. are the banes of our existence when we are older. 

So many times we forget what a negative effect they impart, and so many times those negative feelings can actually manifest into actual physical symptoms and illnesses.

We get loaded down and then suddenly the world seems hopeless. Our immune system is crying out for help under the weight of all the useless baggage and life becomes a bit overwhelming and disappointing.

Not all of us give in to those feelings but many do, and they seem to be the ones that suffer most and have less fun.

I have a friend that finds it almost impossible to let go of anything in her closet. Those forty pairs of black pants are an absolute necessity for her.

Too many are the same way with their emotional pants. Letting go is hard whether it be a favorite jacket, an old piece of furniture or the regrets and pain of the past.

Sometimes it’s easier just accepting the impossibility of getting through life without screwing up something somewhere. Yet I wonder what we’d all change if we had the opportunity?

The Butterfly Effect where one change in the past can set a whole different outcome into motion is a powerful deterrent.

I like to think if we look around we can all find at least ten things every day to be grateful for and happy about. Okay so we don’t always look, including me, but we should.

So in the end I guess it’s about focus. Recalling happy times in the past is fun and comforting as long as we spend just as much time enjoying the present. Planning fun and interesting things to do in this moment. 

Is it easy to get bored? You bet! Yet with very little effort we can all pull out that bucket list and find something fun we haven’t yet done or accomplished and set out to do it immediately.

I’ve heard so many people say that happiness is a choice and to some extent it is. Sure there are going to be tough times when you can’t fool yourself into thinking there is any way to find any good in your situation. 

Perhaps that’s why we must be happy right now, so if the bad times come (hopefully not) at least we know that someday after the bad the good can return once more.

Yep, getting old can suck, but it can also be a pretty great time, even though maybe not all the time.