Athbhliain faoi mhaise daoibh

Go mbeire muid beo ar an am seo arís ~ May we be alive at this time next year. 

I decided that 2021 should be welcomed with as much luck as can be found, so I've been reading about Irish New Year traditions in an effort to help ring in the new year in style. 

Flinging Bread Against the Door. 

This tradition seems especially apt this year. To banish the greatly feared dangers of hunger, a piece of cake or bread is dashed against the door by the man or woman of the house, while reciting a verse that translates to: We call on famine, out as far as the land of the Turk, from tonight, to a year from tonight, and from this very night, be gone. 

I baked a loaf of soda bread this evening. I'll be flinging some, while saving enough for a nice midnight snack. I didn't have any buttermilk, so I curdled milk with vinegar. I'm anxious to sample it. If it's not good, I'll fling it all in to the backyard for the squirrels. 

Clean, clean, clean. 

Quite frankly, I tried to ignore this one, but it kept popping up. The idea is that a clean house represents a clean slate. 

I spent the day cleaning and I'll admit that it is nice to look around and see some order to the madness - although my table-turned-work-area still needs some work. 

Mistletoe, Ivy, and Holly

People who are alone on New Year's Eve are encouraged to put a spring of holly, mistletoe, or ivy under their pillow - the tradition says that you will dream of the one you are to marry. 

I snipped a sprig of holly from by beloved holly bush this evening. I'll keep you posted! 

Out with the Old and In with the New. 

This one seems to have two versions - one is to open your back door before midnight to let the old year out and to open the front door at midnight to welcome the new year in. The other version calls for entering your front door at the stroke of midnight and walking out the back. I'm planning on both, just to be safe. 

Honoring the Dead. 

This is the most famous tradition. On New Year's night households across Ireland set a place at the table for those lost the year before and door off the latch. 

I've really been thinking about my friend Lana, who died in March. We last worked together at the Red Key three years ago this evening. I'm so sorry that I didn't push her for a photo of us together - she was busy arraigning and rearranging and making everyone feel welcome. 

I've started several posts about Lana and haven't been able to properly capture her spirit - I'll make sure that I do that soon....https://www.legacy.com/obituaries/indystar/obituary.aspx?n=lana-june-seacott&pid=195941953

Tomorrow I'll put a plate out for her and the others that have died this year. 

In the meantime: 

Misfortune Be Gone, And Happiness Come In, From Tonight To A Year From Tonight, In The Name Of The Father, And The Son, And The Holy Spirit, 

Amen. 

Countdown to Christmas....or one day closer to 2020 being over?

I'll totally admit that my was attitude this morning - we were one day closer to the end of this crazy year. 

On the way to work all I could think about was getting back home to my cheese Advent calendar. Wouldn't you? And I'd shown great restraint in last the two weeks that it had been peering back at me in the refrigerator. 

On the way to the promise of Edam it turned out to be a great day - a real slice of the great things that happen at Second Helpings each day. 

It's Giving Tuesday so there were the happy sounds of thank you calls to Second Helpings donors happening around me. We may have set a new record for pounds of food rescued in one day. Volunteers and my co-workers made thousands of meals that will be distributed at no cost to the community. 

I am constantly blown away of the support the community shows to Second Helpings. I got to field a phone call for a generous financial donation, coordinate a pasta donation, and marvel at all of the beautiful food that is donated. That's a lot of use of the word "donate" in one sentence - but we seriously couldn't do it without the donors. 

Happy December First. May your countdown to Christmas be full of light and cheese. 

 

hunker down projects

On social media I see so many friends tackling big projects while they're sheltering at home. Making quilts, painting furniture, landscaping, homeschooling, cleaning out their garages.....doing big stuff.

Even though I'm still working full-time at Second Helpings, I'm not working Saturday nights at the Red Key or the occasional Sunday at Marigold. I don't have any writing deadlines, I can go to Mass on my own schedule, and any concerts or parties have been cancelled.

Since I have an abundance of energy in regular times, you'd think I'd channel it and all of my free time into painting the house or starting a novel or scanning the boxes of photographs in my closet or writing letters or organizing my Christmas ornaments or cataloging the PEZ collection....or even keeping up with Words With Friends and birthdays greetings on Facebook.

Nope.

I spent the first few weeks overwhelmed and tired. Second Helpings is doing amazing things and we were working seven days a week in a combination of onsite and at-home shifts and conference calls and planning.

Leaving the house and coming home felt exhausting. I leave my shoes and anything that I was bringing home on the porch, take my clothes off inside the door, run to wash my hands, sanitize the door knob and my keys, toss my clothes down the laundry chute, shower, sanitize my watch and jewelry and glasses, start laundry, sanitize my purse and lunch bag on the porch and fall into bed.

Not that I was sleeping well. I was waking up several times a night in a panic - taking my temperature and realizing that I was hot because the cat was laying on my head or was shivering because the blankets had fallen away. Worrying about COVID-19 symptoms messes with you dang head.

I've certainly settled down. Work has evened out. It's a true testament to how nimble Second Helpings is that we pivoted overnight in how we deliver meals to the community. Not to mention doubling the number of people that we're serving.

I'm sleeping (mostly) through the night and I no longer obsessively take my temperature (now just before I leave the house).

I was feeling guilty that I didn't have a good answer to the question that invariably comes up in Zoom meetings, "what are you doing to keep yourself busy?" Answering "laundry and keeping the cat alive" doesn't seem ambitious enough.

I finally realized that getting through this is a big enough accomplishment in itself. In order to quit feeling like an underachiever I've given myself a list of small things that I can do to feel like I've accomplished something.

This evening I separated a jar of coins from the buttons, pocket lint, and safety pins that had collected there. I went as far as rolling the pennies and separating the Euros from the Canadian coins.

Look at me go!

Happy Pancake Tuesday!

Today I was contemplating how to celebrate Shrove Tuesday - or Fat Tuesday or Mardi Gras - all names for Ash Wednesday Eve.

As kids we took full advantage of getting in one last shot at whatever you pledged to give up for Lent. It was the time for one last chance to pinch your sister or roll your eyes at your brother or to savor a coveted chocolate bar. Mom would make a special meal that included dessert and we would whoop it up, Boone County farm kid style.

I still take Lent very seriously, not only giving something up (usually booze) but trying to do something extra (typically pledging to write notes to folks to let them know how much I appreciate them).

This evening, I considered my stand-by walking to the Red Key for a Jameson whiskey or driving to a fast food joint for French fries and a diet soda. I'm giving up the drink this year - both booze* and diet soda.

I remembered reading that the Irish celebrate by eating pancakes. According to lore, the tradition started because you needed to use up your eggs and sugar - things that were not allowed to be consumed during Lent. I really enjoyed this explanation. 

As luck would have it, I had all of the ingredients at home. In the spirit of using things up, I added lime zest to the batter and made lime syrup.

I poured my diet Pepsi in an Apollo glass in honor of Katherine Johnson, who died yesterday. I used my Lord's Prayer glass for my carefully-measured ounce of Irish whiskey.

I think it was a pretty decent way to celebrate Shrove Tuesday. Although I'd totally pinch my one of my sisters if I happened to see one of them in the next hour and a half. 

Wonder how many pancakes are being consumed in Ireland today? Here is the surprisingly precise number: 
https://www.irishtimes.com/news/offbeat/pancake-tuesday-irish-people-love-to-go-on-the-batter-1.2989835

*I'm reserving the right for a Saint Patrick's Day dispensation.

big chill

 I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. This is #11

Some people get geeked out over classic cars - I'm all about vintage appliances...and the things that go with them.This stove is what started my obsession. It is a Frigidaire made by General Motors. 

My kitchen is too narrow to get a good photograph of the behemoth. It has two ovens, a warming drawer, three burners, and a crockpot-like thingie. Everything works but the clock.
.

This beauty is the newest resident of Chez Pez. It's a 1949 Crosley Shelvador and I've only had it for about a month.

 

Do you know why it's called a "shelvador?" It has shelves in the door! Quite a revolution at the time. 

Before you all start in on the energy efficiency thing, refrigerators from this era were built when electricity was more precious so they were made to be as efficient as possible. They are smaller than modern ones and they don't have automatic defrost so they're not constantly running to keep up. 

I actually enjoy the defrosting process - and hanging laundry to dry and hand-washing my dishes. It is a chance to slow down and enjoy my cozy house.

This General Electric fridge was my first vintage refrigerator and we had seven good years together. After it gave up the ghost I thought I wanted something newer. 

I got this lovely turquoise refrigerator after that, but we never really bonded. It ran ALL of the time and never stayed at the right temperature - stupid defrost feature. It was perfect for craft beer root vegetables. Our relationship didn't last that long. I loved the way it looked, but it just wasn't practical worrying about food safety and all. 

Having the new /old has made me excited about eating healthy again and using my Pyrex refrigerator dishes.

snow daze

I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. This is #6.

While there have been many snow storms in the 20 years I've lived at Chez Pez, January 2014 was extra memorable. While snow had been predicted, the ice was what brought the city to a halt. Power lines and trees snapped under the weight. 

It was so icy that I had to use Uncle Cletus's potato fork as a walking stick. 

Luckily my side of the street only lost power for about eight hours - not enough time to freeze any pipes or do any serious damage. Unfortunately for the other side of the street didn't have any electricity for two days. 

The temperature was below zero and I felt terrible for the folks on the west side. I let everyone know that my house was open for cell phone charging, hand warming, coffee drinking, bathroom using, and even sleeping. 

That first day I heard a huge crash. A tree had fallen my neighbor to the north's house and sheared off the power box to this house. 

As you can imagine, he was gobsmacked and discombobulated. I called the power company for him and they said that the box would need to be repaired before they could come out and with whole chunks of the city out of electricity fixing one household was way down on their priority list. 

I talked him though calling his insurance agent who called a repair man to fix the box - in a day or two. 

I gathered all of my extension cords, plugged them in to a basement outlet, snaked them through the dryer outlet and stretched them to the neighbor's house in an effort to keep his pipes from freezing. 

I invited the neighbor...I was fairly confident that his first name was Al, but had no idea of his last....to sleep on my sofa. He doesn't have any immediate family and his closest relatives lived out of state. 

He was a thoughtful guest, but I think he was a little bored. I don't have a television in the living room and I wasn't comfortable inviting him to watch a show in my bedroom. He didn't seem to be a reader and we weren't coming up with any conversation topics that seemed to take. 

On the second night I introduced him to Netflix on my laptop. He was thrilled to watch Westerns and I could retreat to my room with out feeling too guilty. 

On the fifth day, finally, Al got his power restored. 

I'm still not sure of his last name.....

chez pez pez

I'm sharing 20 memories in honor of living in my house for 20 years. This is #5.

What's up with the Chez Pez title of the blog you ask?

I live in the house of Pez. For real.

Like all collections it started with just a few. I had about ten of 'em lined up on the frame over the door.

My house is a one-story double - the other side is a mirror set up. Living room flows into the dining room to a hallway. To the right is the kitchen door, a few feet later the bathroom door, and the bedroom door at the end of the hallway.

That long hallway wall was just begging for something big.

Dad had just salvaged church pews and crown molding and lots of other wood from a church building that was being torn down to make way for the new College Ave Library. He cut two inches off of the top of the crown molding, flipped it, and screwed it to the top. Viola! The perfect display shelf for Pez.

We joked that I would never collect enough Pez to fill the ten foot shelf.

As you can see, "famous last words" is starting to be a theme with these memories.

I now have four shelves, the top two are 12 feet long and they're stuffed with Pez. And I have boxes more stored away.

I can't keep up with all of the new Pez dispensers. So many movies license with Pez now and it seems like there is a new batch out every week!


My favorites are the Bicentennial series from 1976.

My Batman - with a cape- won the first place ribbon at the Indiana State Fair this year. I love it when all of my favorite things collide!

don't look a gift horse in the mouth....

In honor of living in my house for 20 years, I'm sharing 20 memories. Here's #4. 

No photo for this memory, but it's probably just as well. 

As a housewarming/Christmas gift my parents purchased a washer and dryer for me. Even back in those days I was a shop local sort of person. 

There is a family owned appliance store on the East side of downtown where I found a nice new Maytag set. When I made the arrangements at the store they said that for $50 they would deliver, haul the old set away, and connect everything. When I mentioned that part to Dad he said to cancel that part, after all he had a truck. 

Classic "famous last words." 

Mom and Dad picked me up about an hour before the store closed and we wedged into the cab of the truck.  We had a make a stop at a drive through to grab food for someone that needed to eat before we went any farther. 

We arrived at the store about 15 minutes before they closed. Having worked in retail and food service I know how everyone is antsy to leave at that point. The staff was super nice and offered to help load the washer and dryer into the truck and directed Dad to the dock. Dad backed up the truck....into a car in parking lot.

It took time to sort all that out and exchange insurance information and such. By now it's 20 minutes past closing time. We get to the dock and the guy helping load asked if we had an appliance dolly. From the look on all of our faces, he quickly guessed the answer. He then asked what we were going to do with the old washer and dryer. More blank stares. 

At this point his attitude shifted from annoyance to sympathy. He offered to loan us the dolly. We could bring it back to the store when we were done. He would leave the padlock for the fence around the appliances waiting to be recycled unlocked, we could put the dolly and old washer and dryer there and snap the lock shut when we were done. 

Back at my house after much cussing and unsafe lifting practices Dad and I wrestled the old washer and dryer up the basement steps and tried to keep gravity from doing too much damage to us and the new appliances as we took them down the steps. 

So far so good. 

Until we went to hook them up. Apparently dryers don't come with a cord because it depends on how many amps and whether the the outlet is a three or four prong type. This I learned when I went to the hardware store. Luckily I'd stumbled into the right place. Hedlund Hardware has been around since 1935 and I'm sure this wasn't the first time someone had rushed in 10 minutes before they closed clutching the manual from a dryer close to tears. 

When the man asked me whether the plug was three or four prong the tears started for real. He sold me both connection kits and assured me I could bring the other one back. 

Back at home we got the dryer connected - victory! 

Time to connect the washer. The hoses and connection stuff at come with the washer. Water connections are standard, right? 

We had cut the hoses from the old set to detach the old washer from the water line, but had not unscrewed them from the water connection yet. We discovered that they were rusted and whatever else happens to make metal not budge from other metal. 

I should mention that it is now about 10:00 pm and the hardware store was closed and we were about six hours into this simple project.  

Dad asked where my pipe wrench was. Seriously? I had decent tool collection, but it didn't involve a pipe wrench. And none of my wrenches were the right size or sturdy enough. 

I voiced my "let's throw in the towel for tonight" opinion - which I'd been working up the nerve to say for the last four hours. 

Nope. 

Dad had seen the project this far and wasn't ready to give up. He insisted that I ask the neighbors if they had a pipe wrench we could borrow. 

It is now after 10:00 and dark and a weeknight. And I'd only lived in the house for four days and hadn't met any neighbors yet. 

Ever the dutiful daughter, I knocked on the neighbor's door to the north. No answer. Off to the neighbor to the south...not only did they answer the door, but they handed me a pipe wrench without question. 

By now the neighbor on the other side of the double was home and Aaron was kind enough to come and help and bring his tools.  It's amazing how having a non-family member involved help ease the tension. 

By 11:00 everything was connected and working and everyone was speaking to each other civilly. 

Done right? 

Except that we needed to return the dolly and drop off the old appliances.  

Back in the cab of the truck we went. The trip back to appliance store was much quieter. 

I have no idea how much the avoiding the $50 deliver/connect/haul away service cost us, but I'm guessing the deductible from the fender bender was much more that that.  

Follow up: Twenty years later the washer is still working perfectly. The dryer died about ten years ago and I've just gone without one. Between my Great-Aunt Theresa's drying rack and hanging things I don't need one. Plus I don't think I've recovered from the first dryer experience. 

  

cooler now

In honor of living in my house for 20 years, I'm sharing 20 memories. Here's #3. 

I lived without air conditioning the first ten years at Chez Pez. I used to be pretty insufferable in my quest for fairness and justice. 

Why should I live like a queen when others are suffering? I'd never lived in a house with central air and I'd gotten by just fine. 

Living alone I feel like I'm in charge and want to be able to hear what is happening in the neighborhood and if someone is knocking on my door. 

A couple of things changed my attitude. My neighbor cut down the huge tree that shaded the back of the house, a breakup resulted in a free air conditioner, and I was getting older and crankier and tired of tossing and turning and getting dressed in front of the fridge. 

When I started cooling my bedroom I had crazy rules about when I could turn it on. July was soon enough right? Those days are over. I think I had it cranked up in May this year and I had it on a few days ago. 

I still worry about the not being able to hear. The first night I used the air conditioner a decade ago there was a fire across the street and I didn't hear a damn thing. I have learned to embrace the white noise of the fan.  I figure if the fire fighters need to get into my house they can use one of those axes they carry to break down the door. 

squirrel!

In honor of celebrating my 20th year in my house, I'm going to share 20 memories. Here's Day Two. 

This one is from November/December 2009.

There was a critter in my basement - probably for a month. I was wasn't home much around that time. I was out of town twice that month, for a total of eight days. It seemed like I was always working late at Second Helpings, I was freelancing a whole bunch for NUVO newsweekly, and working at the Red Key and Marigold, and writing the Broad Ripple Gazette column.

I'm telling you this mostly to justify how in the heck I could live with an unknown animal in the house.

I thought it was gone once, only to have it resurface. Plus I didn't want to trap something while I was gone and ask the kind neighbor feeding my cat to have to check the trap. Friendship has its limits. 

The adventure started the day that I got a new roof on my garage and my neighbor got a new roof on his house. You can imagine the pounding and noise and general disruption of the area. I unlocked my front door after work that day to find a mouse munching on chocolate that I'd brought back from Germany and my cat watching it happen. We all stared at each other for a few seconds and the mouse ran and the cat had a "who, me?" look on his face.

I set some traps and never saw the mouse again. But I did come home several days later to find a banana eaten THROUGH THE PEEL and and a box of strawberry PEZ flavored popcorn (purchased at a dollar store ten years ago - I can't imagine that it was even edible) shredded and open in the hallway. The war was on. Don't screw with the PEZ collection!

I should mention the cat was home the whole time. Fierce Felix was renamed to Pacifist Kitty.

I set a live trap in the basement with a spoonful of peanut butter for bait.

Nothing.

One evening while I was home I left the back door (that leads straight to the basement stairs) open in hopes of the critter running to its freedom. Several days passed by with no action or droppings or footprints to be found. I assumed it was gone.

Wrong.

Apparently it was still full from eating the mouse and the cat food and the PEZ and the banana.

All Hell broke loose while I was gone for a trip. The critter knocked over the cat food container, flipped the cat food bowl, chewed through several PEZ packages, opened cabinets, chewed through the clothes line in the basement, knocked over crates and pushed plastic storage containers off of shelves to get to the packages of PEZ.

I set the trap again. 

When I was at work the next day the critter got in to my purse on the sofa. And helped himself to a pack of chewing gum.

Did I mention that I had a cat? 

I got a bigger live trap. More peanut butter and I threw in some PEZ for good measure. 

I came home that evening to discover that mystery critter was a squirrel. And a pretty damn big one - too big to fit in the first trap. I was hoping for a bunny or badger or mongoose, not an ordinary squirrel. A not-so-happy squirrel it was. Felix was guarding the trap like he'd done all of the work.  

I tried to get a photo of the two of them together, but I was mostly interested in getting it out of the basement without the trap door flying open and the squirrel running up my dress.

I was pretty damn happy that night that I drive a truck. Squirrel rode in the back and we took a little ride to a nice cemetery by the White River full of trees and places to run - and most importantly, in another zip code. 

It was cold and rainy and dark by the time we got there. I marched towards the back of the cemetery to the river and then realized that I was standing in the dark and rain in a cemetery BY MYSELF!

I reached in to release the trap door and the crazy thing would not leave! I tipped the case up. No dice. The thing hung on for dear life. Luckily I had on a pair of sturdy work gloves (they didn't match and I had two left gloves, but they were thick). I had to stick my hand in the trap and pull on the squirrels behind. It finally ran out, around some gravestones and up a tree.

A nice Irish whiskey was in order when I got home. 

Thankfully (fingers crossed) there hasn't been another unwanted critter in the house since then. 

how many people in their skivvies does it take to change a light bulb?

My sweet cousin, Erin, challenged me to share 20 memories to commemorate the 20th anniversary of living in my house.

That led to me dragging out the three boxes of photos that were wedged in the back of the closet. Which mostly made me sad. Sad that I'm not sure of who some of the people are. Sad that I'm not more organized and didn't at least scrawl a date on the envelope. Sad about some of my hairstyles and clothing choices. Sad that several of my friends are no longer with us. Sad that I wasn't a better photographer years ago.

So instead of illustrating a memory with a photograph, you'll just have to use your imagination.

I've worked at Marigold Clothing Store, in various roles, the whole time it's been open, with the exception of the five years that I lived out East. I'm guessing that it was around 1997 that I was working there full time as the manager.

Marigold was still on Guilford Ave, where the BRVA office is now. I would typically eat at the Parthenon restaurant next door, with my nose in a book during my 30 minute break.

Occasionally I would run home for lunch. The light bulb above my kitchen door had burned out and I wanted to change it in the daylight. I couldn't quite reach it on my own so I had to balance a stool in the steps.

I had the light cover in one hand, the old light bulb in my mouth (don't judge me!) and was screwing the fresh bulb in the socket when the kitchen door slammed shut and locked. With a good chunk of my dress stuck in it. I pulled in the dress and heard a rip. I couldn't step down with the dress caught in the top of the door.

Crud.

Atfer looking around to make sure my neighbors weren't in sight, I shimmied out of the dress and ran in my underpinnings to the front porch where I had a spare key. Unfortunately the key was to the kitchen door so I had to run back up the driveway in my skivvies to unlock the door.

I wish I could say that it was the last time I've locked myself out of the house....

home.

Twenty years ago today I moved into my darling house (the wonderful landlords let me move in a day before the lease started). My dad and I did the whole move in two pickup truck loads and one stuffed Cavalier 

I never imagined how quickly those 750 square feet would feel like home and that I'd wind up buying the place eleven years later.

It's weird to think of how much has changed in the last 20 years - four different cats (Oliver, Alison, Felix, and Tilly), four vehicles (Cavalier , S-10, S-10, HHR), three refrigerators, thirty pounds gained and lost, long hair, short hair, straight and curly hair. The abandoned railroad bed behind the house is now the Monon Trail. Landline to cell phone. No computer to dialup to WiFi. Not to mention that I was in my 30s!

And how could I forget all of the touring musicians that have stayed here!

So much as stayed the same also. I haven't repainted a wall or touched the hardwood floors (beyond vacuuming, of course) or figured out which screens actually fit in which windows. Twenty St. Valentine's Day parties! The backyard is still full of glorious trees and the garage, against all odds, is still standing.

I've loved living here for lots of reasons - the neighborhood is awesome and I've made many friends that live within a few blocks. Not to mention the several restaurants and bars, a record store, a market, garden store, periodical shop, and almost everything you could want all just a few steps away.

I am grateful to the Youngs for having such a great house for such reasonable rent. The inexpensive living allowed me to work at CATH coffeehouse and be part of the community and start writing and get involved in cool things without the pressure to earn a lot of money. That ultimately let to working at the Red Key and my dream job at Second Helpings.

I wonder what the next 20 years at Chez Pez will bring?

thicken the plot: thinning down

[click on title for full post] 

I am excited to be participating in the Think Kit project again this year. Thicken the Plot: We're all writing the story of our lives as we go. How can you make your story interesting in 2016? And if you can't see around the bend, it's okay to dream. Let's make 2016 one of the most riveting parts of our tale, shall we?

I'm hoping this year is the year that I can see around the bend. While 2015 was full of fun, it was also sprinkled with two root canals and two crowns and repairs on the tenant side of my double, not to mention the two months it was empty and no rent collected. I'm working hard at chipping away at my credit card debt and being fiscally responsible.

I've also managed to accumulate stuff....most of it mundane... I've been making a real effort to use up the all of the dish soap, shampoo, canned soup, paper towels, weird smelling lotion, little packets of tissue, and other things that were either purchased on sale, given to me as a gift, or somehow came to to be at my house.

I've also done a good job of organizing and giving the gifts I've picked up for friends and family in the last few years, but never managed to actually get to the person I'd picked them out for. At Christmas I was mostly able to shop from my own gift shelf.

The more brutal project has been spending time in the basement sorting socks and tee shirts and pitching things that should have been tossed years before. I've taken a ton of clothes to the Toggery (resale shop) and the folks at Goodwill are starting to recognize my car and my trash bin is always full.

I look forward to enjoying my cozy house with no major projects hanging over my head. I look forward to looking forward to getting the mail each day - no more envelopes from the dentist or credit card company.

Even though I'm paring down, I promise the quirkiness of Chez Pez will continue - let's not go too far with this project....

hear, hear: tilly

[click on title for full post] 

I am excited to be participating in the Think Kit project again this year. Today's prompt: Hear, Hear, Do you hear what I hear? Tell us about a sound. What do you hear in your house or at work?

My day is full of noise and I love it! I'm one of those goofy people that sounds brings things into focus. Second Helpings is a cacophony of knives on cutting boards, beeping oven timers, laughing volunteers, ringing phones, buzzing doorbells, pallets scrapping the floor, students yelling "yes, chef!," foot steps on the tile floor, hallway conversations - noise, glorious noise! 

I sometimes worry that I'm a noise junky so I've been experimenting with driving to work without the radio and walking the 30 minutes to church with no music playing in my ear and not automatically turning on the record player or queuing up ar Netflix program on my phone. 

That said I added some beautiful purring to Chez Pez in October. I adopted Tilly at the Indy Mega Pet Adoption event. I stopped in, just to look, and was smitten the moment I saw her. She's five and a half and 13 pounds. A big ball of affection. 

It's great to come home to a friendly meow and to hear her "motor" running when she's napping. She's very patient, even when I tried to Velcro a Princess Leia to hear head. 

That said, she is hiding from me right now. I backed up as I was typing and stepped on Tilly's tail. When I leaned down to apologize and pet her I gave her a big static electricity shock. I reached out with my other hand and shocked her again. I'll try to make it up to her - in a very gentle way. 

scratch and sniff: grandma's kitchen

[Click on the title to read the full post]

I am excited to be participating in the Think Kit project again this year. Today's prompt: Scratch and Sniff! Scents have the power to take us all kinds of places. What smell takes you somewhere else? Where'd you go?

I've been waiting all day to write this post. The second I read the prompt, I knew I wanted to tell you about Grandma's kitchen. 

I loved spending the night at Grandma Leona's and walking into the kitchen to the wonderful aroma of coffee and bacon and muskmelon and unconditional love. 

I'm the oldest of four children (born within six years) so having anyone's undivided attention was pretty darn special. To have my beloved grandmother all to myself was the best thing ever! Grandma and Grandpa lived on the farm house that Grandpa had grown up in. The kitchen was huge - big enough for a giant table that seated at least a dozen, Grandpa's rocking chair (that is now in my living room) and all of the necessary kitchen-y stuff and appliances. 

Uncle Phillip and Uncle Con would arrive their polka dot caps to join Grandpa for farming work of the day. They'd grab a cup of coffee and commence to some gentle niece teasing. The local AM radio station was always playing in the background - all talk; weather, obituaries, commodities reports, and more weather. 

Leona Gremelspacher was known as a saint all throughout the county. I remember pushing even her grandmotherly patience one day.  I was seven years old and followed Grandma around the kitchen chattering about what must have been fascinating second-grade business.  She finally asked me if I ever took a breath - and admitted that she needed a little quiet time. 

I spent hours this evening looking for photos of us in the kitchen or recipes written in her hand. I found lots of her recipes that I'd written at the huge table in my loopy junior-high handwriting, misspellings and all.  I remember feeling so grown up, copying down the details from her recipe cards. 

Click here for the four-generation history of the Cranberry Salad recipe. 

I was 23 when Grandma died and I am so fortunate to have known her that long. It is rare that I catch a whiff of that particular combination of percolating coffee, frying bacon, and sliced cantaloupe, but when I do, I'm transported to that place of unconditional love - like walking into a warm hug.