Baking the Pumpkin Pie

Dear Momma,

It’s Thanksgiving Day and it is 8:20am … and I am up.

*sigh*

You KNOW I’m not a morning person. That was you and Jimmy. And while I may have to get up and be coherent by this time of day for work during the week, not on holidays. No.
But it’s Thanksgiving, and you aren’t here. So things are different. Including the fact that I am up. And have already put the pumpkin pie together and then washed up my dishes. And now, while it bakes, I’m sitting here, sipping my cuppa and thinking of you.

You are supposed to bake the pie.

(You’re also supposed to make the dressing but I’ll address that one later in the day, since I figure I’m going to need to talk to you more than once today.)

But for now, I’m gonna say this … you are supposed to bake the pie. That’s always been the deal since I started taking over Thanksgiving back when I lived in my duplex. I take care of the turkey, the ham, the potatoes, the sweet potatoes, the green beans, the corn and even the gravy. But your job has been baking the pie (and the dressing).

So, I’m up … early … baking a pie and praying I did it right and talking with you. Because my brain is filled with memories and Castiel is still in bed sleeping, so I can’t talk with him.

You always loved the pumpkin pie.

You would get so excited because it was one of your truly favorite pies. I can hear your voice in my head as you would tell me that we should skip lunch and go straight to the pie. I’m not sure why we didn’t have it more often. Pumpkin pie was the tradition for Thanksgiving and you would wait, bake, eat, savor and enjoy each moment of it.
Sometimes you would bake it the day before, filling the house with spicy pumpkin scents. And you would teasingly laugh and say that we could just skip the soup and go straight for the pie.

Now I wonder, why didn’t we give in and just do that?

I wish we had. What a funny that would have been to everyone else as the pie was served after dinner and there were a couple of slices missing!

I think that the pie was special to you in part because it was something your daddy always loved. He was definitely a pie man, especially after a good lunch. And what could be better than a Thanksgiving lunch/dinner topped off by a delicious pie baked by Mom, aka. my Nanny? You were such a Daddy’s girl.

I remember that Thanksgiving after Nanny died. We had all gathered at Aunt Pearl’s house and she had So. Much. Food!! Turkey and ham and chicken noodles and white potatoes and sweet potatoes and macaroni & cheese and every kind of vegetable from the root cellar and there was pie. And while she had made a couple of different types, there were two pumpkin pies. And when you and I discovered that, we stood there in Aunt Pearl’s little kitchen and I remember we were by ourselves (which was almost impossible with the number of people flooding her little house) and we saw those pies and I said, “There’s two.” And your response … “I’ll get the forks, you grab one of them and we’ll go out in the back porch. No one will know.” And we started giggling like little kids because we were actually seriously considering it.

It looked so good … Aunt Pearl was such a great cook … and it smelled so heavenly. The memory is like a frozen moment in my heart and brain, Momma. I was just reaching for the pie, you were laughing and at that exact moment one of the Aunt Eleanor bustled into the kitchen saying “Girls! Help me bring those pies out to the table!” and you and I shared a look that just screamed “Busted!”.

You had been having such a rough day … that first Thanksgiving without your mom and that moment of laughing was such a balm … for both of us.

This is my first Thanksgiving without you, Momma.  And the laughter I have at that memory is a balm to my soul.

You did love your pumpkin pie.

You weren’t always happy with the crust but the pie itself? With whipped cream after Thanksgiving dinner, plain the next morning for breakfast, cold or warm … it didn’t matter, it always made you happy.

I hope I’ve done you proud, Momma. I’m up early … I’ve got the pie in the oven. The turkey is ready to go in as soon as the pie comes out. I’m fixing our traditional Thanksgiving and our guys are going to come over to eat and watch football later.

But for now … it’s just you and me … the smell of a pumpkin pie … and memories.

Love you, my Momma
Me

Evening Training Time

Sometimes I truly wonder who is training who in this relationship I have with my little white wookie.  I mean, I am the human ... he is the small canine.  Surely I am the one in charge.  Right?

Right?

*sigh*

I am currently sitting at my kitchen table, ignoring my little white wookie and getting a bit of writing done.

I recently discovered over the past holiday season that, when I would sit on the couch and ignore him, my little white wookie come up to join me and cuddle, refusing to eat. This refusal then messes up his little system. In turn, I am beginning to wonder if it may also be a contributor in our morning vocal crankiness.

Note: I really need that morning vocal crankiness to go back to the quiet it was prior to Thanksgiving or the neighbors will be come cranky in turn causing much difficulty.

I have also recently discovered that, if I sit at the table working with the computer, and ignore him, he will eat his kibble on the sly ... sneaking glances at me to see if I am watching while sneaking bites until his bowl is cleaned. Then, after a bit, he will do his backward dance indicating he needs to inspect some bushes. Between these two things, eating and taking a walk, he is more active instead of being a couch potato and therefore, more ready to relax the next morning.

Second note: If this is true, this will make me extremely happy. It is difficult to spend the morning working at my desk and listening to his sad and angry barking, not to mention the added stress of knowing if the neighbors complain it could get ugly for both of us.

I have a third (and this time dual) recent discovery that is what leads to my suspicious nature.

First, if I sit at the table working on the computer, I am ultimately drawn into writing while my little white wookie is occupied with eating. This is something I seem to have trouble doing when relaxing on the couch. It is also something I have been striving to get back to doing on a regular basis.

Secondly, if, while I am writing, the little white wookie fills his belly and subsequently needs to inspect the bushes, then I am obliged to don my shoes, hook up his leash and take him outside. This means an additional bit of walking for me on a nightly basis, something some would consider a bit more healthy than just crashing on the couch each evening.

Thus my dilemma in who is training whom.

Is the human training the little white wookie as he learns to eat his dinner, have an active evening and then relax during the day while the human works?

Is the little white wookie training the human that she doesn't need to be a couch potato but instead take the time return to writing and then getting some healthy exercise?

Or is it just a coincidence that he and I are working together to keep each other healthy and happy?

Since he can't say ... I'm not gonna. ;)

I Have Scaled

I adore small appliances/tools.  I love those little gadgets that are handy dandy fun to use.  Mostly ones that belong in the kitchen (hence the word "appliances") but I also like the battery injected, electrically operated tools that make life fun.  Baby Skils ... my itty bitty powerful power drill still makes me giggle each time I pull the trigger and watch it spin a screw into place.

It is likely a good thing I have a small house.  If I had a larger kitchen, my budget would hate me.  As it is, I tend to go a bit crazy.

Take for instance my latest gadget purchase ... a scale.  

I bought a scale.

A. Scale.

Actually two of them.

First I recently treated myself to a small kitchen scale.  I say small because it really is small, yet it has the capacity to weigh larger items.  Win!  Plus, it has a button that lets you remove the weight of the bowl or plate you are using to put the item(s) you are weighing.  It is so fun.  I spent an evening measuring pecans ... just because I could.

I told you ... it's an appliance addiction.

However, then I got carried away with myself and bought a bigger scale. 

A human scale.

You know ... one of those flat things you stand upon and, while it seems to scream, shout and berate you, it is really just giving you the facts ... the pounds you weigh.  

I've never owned one.  

I'm overweight.  I know this.  It is a fact.  I don't need a flat piece of metal with numbers flashing to tell me.  I have been overweight pretty much all my life.  

Quick side note:  Before we head down a direction that I am no planning to go ... no ... my weight does not define who I am, it is a part of me.  Look at me ... the whole me before judging.  If you judge based on my weight, you don't deserve to know the wonderful that is actually me.  I'm just saying.  

Today I am talking about the fact that I have purchased and brought into my home ... A. Scale.  To weigh things.  No ... not true ... it is to weigh ME.

It's kind of unnerving.  Took me two days after setting it up (aka. removing it from the box, putting in the batteries and then setting the thing on the floor in the bathroom) to even step on it.  

Whose idea was this to purchase this item?

What possessed me to do this?

Again ... my weight does not define me.  

However, my knee does rule my life by how I get around and it needs to likely be replaced.  This can't be done if I am too heavy for the doctor to do a procedure.  

*sigh*  

So, with the first of the year, I once again jumped on the bandwagon of removing weight from my body.  I've done it before.  Lost enough to reward myself first with a fun triple ear piercing and then lost enough to earn a pretty ankle tattoo.  So, I know I can do it again.  

And I bought a scale.

Scales make us accountable.  

I hate the word "accountable/accountability".

I also hate the word "perception" but that is for another day's thought process and scribbling.  

Back to my accounting scale ... and who would have thought I'd ever utter those words ... it is sleek and silver and, because I was fearful that I had not only gained back all of the weight that I had worked hard at removing from my body several years ago, but added to it, I bought the super one that would weigh three small people at the same time and still have room for a couple of cats and dogs. 

Note:  There's a big smile on my face when I reflect on the fact that I had NOT gained all the previous lost weight back to my body.  That I was not as heavy as I assumed and that I could actually adjust my goal.  That was a cool moment.  I will admit it. 

I bought a scale.  

This morning I began using it.  I stepped up upon it, waited for the beep, stepped down and jotted down the number.  

And because accountability is part of the deal this year, I have now written about it.  

I am writing this to let the one or two people who read this know it.  

Because ... you know ... accountability doesn't work if no one knows about what you're doing ... with the scale ... that you just purchased ... and used ... like me.  

I did it. 

I bought a scale.

   

Worst Year Passed ... Really?

January 1st 

New year ... sure, but the last year was less than 24 hours ago.

New thoughts ... true, but they are formed from the same brain, driven by the same heart.

New choices ... unquestioningly possible, but only with careful thought and an open mind.

New words ... they circle and and crowd my thoughts, wanting to be written, to be shared, to be expressed.

New year ... a time for thoughts, for choices, for words.  It has been more than a year's span of time since I have expressed opinions, shared ideas, taken the opportunity to write.  New year's resolutions are about making changes to routines from the previous year.  I'm not good at making resolutions, they tend to break, but I do know I want to make different choices this year.  My choice about my writing is one of them in this new year of 2017.  

However, before moving forward into the new, I need to say something about the old.  

Many say that the last year was "the worst" but how can I truly believe that if I have been able to safely wake in the morning from a night's sleep, put my feet on the floor of a warm house (if it's cold outside), have food for breakfast, lunch AND dinner available, go to work - doing a job I like and earning the money it takes to keep that home and food, not to mention other creature comforts - and be able to come home each evening to a small companion who is forever grateful for me and loves me unconditionally?  How can that be the "worst"?

I am not saying that the last year didn't have difficult times, heartbreaking moments, or occasions of total exasperation.  I'm also not denying that there are many who were not as blessed as I was during 2016 ... that many people didn't have a good night's sleep, or a warm house in the winter, or food for meals and jobs for earning money.  Unfortunately, those were the same circumstances in 2015 ... 2014 ... 2013 ... etc.  

I'm simply saying that labeling 2016 as the "worst" year ever due certain events that took place is a bit over-dramatic and, not to be insulting, but, silly.

One example ... there have been worse years than the one that heralded the loss of many beloved celebrities ... at least, because they WERE celebrities, their lives were immortalized in ways that their legacies live on.  I hope they deserve that.  I know some do but some ... well ... hmm, food for thought for another day.

But here is the thing about the "worst" year just passed ... others died too.  What about the senior citizen who died a quiet death due to stage 4 pancreatic cancer that had moved to his brain?  He died alone in a VA ward, without family, without money to his name, with only a kind-hearted woman that he had met one day at the IHOP when she offered to cut his pancake as she walked by his booth and noticed he was having difficulty.  Is his loss to this world any worse than that of a songwriter, author, actress, or sports figure?  He wasn't "important" but he had been married ... twice ... to women who loved him and unfortunately died before him.  He wasn't a celebrity but he had fought for our country in two different wars, one before he was legally able to enlist.  He didn't write music or a book but he had worked hard all his life, provided for two children that he survived, and was unfailingly cheerful.  He went to church when he could, prayed when he couldn't and simply believed - not pushing his "religion" upon anyone.  He was abrupt in his opinions and had choice words for those he believed to be doing wrong, but he worked hard to do what was right.  Yet he has no real legacy than the memory of him left to those he encountered - some memories fleeting of a passerby and some more poignant of those that took the time to talk with him. 

Each year that passes is both good and bad, best and worst.  I choose to look at the good and the best, not ignoring the bad or worst, because without them there really isn't any "good" or "best".  I don't ignore those things that are bad or considered "worse" but I choose not to allow them to dictate how I feel or perceive the world around me.  Times are changing ... they always are ... 2017 will include death, it will include fear, it will include people disagreeing and fighting, it will ... unfortunately ... include ignorance and hate.  That is a part of life.

(And before I get slammed ... just because I choose to not to look at the world as "going to hell", doesn't mean I don't live in it, see/recognize the reality of it and work each day to make it a better place.  It is just my choice to keep my actions between myself and those organizations and individuals private.)  

But 2017 ... just like 2016 did ... will include births of regular people and future celebrities, it will include families spending time together, it will include moments of happiness, beautiful days, and people coming together, working together, discussing pros and cons and not killing each other just because they disagree, but celebrating when they find a course of agreement.  

2017 provides opportunities for me to make changes I didn't make last year ... write words I didn't write last year ... learn things I didn't learn last year ... to choose to work hard to make it a good year - despite all the "worst" things that can and will happen.   

This from the person who is the same person she was last year ... you know ... 18 hours ago.  

Happy New Year ... and welcome to my little corner of the world.  I've neglected it.  I'm making a choice to rectify that ... something that will make 2017 better than 2016 ... in my opinion.