Friday Night Lights

I had been looking in my recipe books for something...For what?  I have no idea any more...but a couple of days later I found this on the floor:

It is said that odors or particular smells evoke memories: the same can be said for some recipes.

My mom, being the hospitable person that she was and the wife of a head football coach, invited all the coaches and their families to our house for waffles after every home football game.  She claimed that this act was really a selfish one. Wanting her husband to come home, yet knowing that coaches want to talk about the game afterward and knowing she did NOT want to talk about it, she devised a plan.  Just invite the other men that wanted to talk football (and their families) over. In that way, she (and the other wives) could have the best of both worlds.

During this time, mom did have a lady come clean the house every Thursday. (Her name was Eliza.) Mom's Thursday evenings were consumed not with house cleaning, but with making waffle batter and homemade syrup.  She used the recipe above for her syrup (right off of the maple flavoring package) and used the waffle recipe that came with her SunBeam waffle iron she received as a wedding gift back in 1949. (recipe to follow)

On Friday nights after the game, the wives would come and bring their children. We played while the ladies fried bacon and made waffles and visited. The men ate, talked, and drew football plays on paper napkins. Lots of good memories...and is the smell of bacon making you hungry?

Buttermilk Waffles

1/2 c melted butter                                                     2 T sugar

2 1/2 c flour                                                                 1 t salt

2 1/2 t soda                                                                  4 eggs

2 1/2 t baking powder                                                2 c buttermilk

                                                                                     1 1/2 t vanilla

Melt and cool butter.  Sift together dry ingredients.  Beat eggs at high speed until fluffy.  Add buttermilk and vanilla.  Beat to blend.  Pour over dry ingredients.  Beat until smooth.  Blend in melted butter.

The Golden 50th

Last Saturday, we responded to this invitation by joining in the celebration.

Upon receiving the invitation, my first thought was, "What a wonderful way to celebrate!  Combining the anniversary celebrations! Excellent idea!  Cut down costs, only requiring a trip made once by loved ones, etc.  That's a great idea!  Wonder if it would work for Donnie & Steph's anniversary celebration to combine with ours?"  (I've since decided it would not be so ideal; we don't live in the same town nor go to the same church like my cousins Aubrey and Dean. Otherwise....)

Aubrey and Dean were quite a bit older than Donnie and me.  Their dad, Arvin (my dad's oldest brother), was 12 years older that my dad, who was the youngest in that family.  I was 6 years old when Aubrey and Janice married.  If memory serves me correctly, Bernita and Dean were married by the Justice of the Peace...in other words, they snuck off to get married.  On January 1?  Cool!  But Bernita mentioned that she had a milestone birthday coming up.  (It can't be 60, because I'll be 57 in a month...so it must be 70?  How can that be??!!  ...and she's probably the youngest of the honorees... Wow!)

Anyway, all that bird-walking to say my real message:  I come from a really awesome family.  I've had a rich heritage and many awesome examples of what it means to be a part of a committed and God-centered marriage.  I remember writing a card to Nanny (my mom's mom) the Christmas before Bob and I married in which I was thanking her for the example she and Pampa had left for us.  (They actually celebrated their 70th anniversary before death separated them!)

Granny and Grandad (my dad's parents) celebrated their 50th in December 1961 (if the information I gleaned from Saturday's celebration is correct.)  That means that the "new" dishes in my cabinet which my grandmother received on that anniversary are now over 50 years old!  Whoa!  My grandad died 4 years later which prevented them from celebrating anymore milestone anniversaries.

My mom and dad celebrated their 59th anniversary on July 6, 2008 before my dad's death in August of that year.

On Bob's side of the family...his parents were prevented from celebrating their Golden 50th by his dad's death in 1973.  (I think that's the date.)  I also believe that his Oma and Opa (his mom's parents) were kept away from that event by the death of Oma.  (Don't you just love that their names were German for Grandma and Grandpa?)  ...and there's a picture... of Grandmother and Grandfather Spies celebrating their 40th or 50th with the cake on "the" table.  (If/when I come across that photo, I'll insert it. The table now resides in Ira and Kelley's home.)  But I do know that death separated that dear couple also.

All that to say I'm very thankful for this example which has pervaded my whole way of thinking in the midst of a world where things other than death are often the cause of the termination of marriages.  Hopefully, by the grace of God, Bob and I will continue this rather sacred heritage.  This would be an awesome way to be an inspiration to our children and grandchildren...  July 23 will mark 35 years!  The best 35 years of my life!  I'm very blessed....

As Easy as... Boiling an Egg??

Deviled eggs were one of my mom's favorite foods.  It became her designated job to fix them when we were having family get-togethers. She was very eager to help always, and after I had boiled the eggs, this was a task she could do while sitting. 

But, "as easy as boiling an egg" and "She can't even boil an egg!"???  I'm not so sure about those sayings....The boiling may be easy, but the peeling???? Yuk!  I've heard about and tried many fool-proof tricks over the years, but I guess I'm the fool.  (And besides, I have had trouble remembering the tricks.)

...but since we now have laying hens from which we daily collect eggs and "doubled" eggs are now a desired part of (at least some) our grandchildren's diet, I NEED to know and remember those tricks (and pass that information on to my progeny) .

So I conducted some research:
I first did some simple google research.  I saw some absolutely disgusting things on U-tube (like blowing the hard-boiled egg out the end of the eggshell--Really, who wants my slobber on their egg?? even if you ARE family!) and read some way-too-detailed ways to boil eggs and peel them perfectly.  Then I boiled and peeled eggs every chance I got trying different methods and taking note of the results to come up with what would work best for me.

This is what I've come up with (and the reason it works best so I can remember what I've discovered):

1.  Eggs should be 7-10 days old.  Fresh eggs' whites tend to stick to the membrane because of their low acidity.  As eggs get older, the shell becomes more porous; the egg is allowed to let off some carbon dioxide and the white becomes more acidic and won't cling to the membrane as much.   Also, the white shrinks a bit and there can be more air space between the shell and membrane.  Use fresher eggs if you must, but you will NOT get a prettily peeled boiled egg. Just know that up front!

2.  Place eggs in water right out of the faucet.  (Because eggs aren't noodles!  If you put eggs into water that's already boiling or too hot, the shell will crack because of the extreme temperature change.)

3.  Once the water boils, put the lid on the pan and remove it from the source of heat.  The guidelines say to leave the eggs in the hot water for 15 minutes if they're large, 18 minutes for extra large, but only 12 minutes for medium eggs.  But I've discovered that if you're boiling only a few eggs and using a small pan, it can take longer for them to be fully cooked--or the problem can be solved by just leaving the pan on the turned-off-but-hot heating element.  But if you leave a larger pot of eggs with a lot of eggs sitting on the element for the same amount of time, the yolk will turn gray-green. This is caused by a  chemical change that occurs in the sulfur in egg yolks. The eggs are still perfectly OK to eat; they're just not as pretty!  --and since I cook with electric heat, I'm not quite sure how that translates in gas heated cooking...

4.  Cool eggs down quickly.  Why is this step helpful? A quick temperature change will help the membrane separate from the egg white. This is the method I've come up with that works well for me: Pour off the hot water, then run tap water over the eggs. When the eggs are cool enough to handle, I crack both ends of the egg and run even more water over them.  Then I add a glass of ice to the water and let them sit in the ice water for a while.  

5.  Then, when you're ready to peel the egg, first roll the egg on the kitchen counter with the palm of your hand to sort of crush the shell.  (Do it with a light hand, though, or you'll mush the egg open.) Why?  The shell needs to be flexible to enable it to come off in one big piece with the membrane attached to it.

6.  Start the actual peeling at the fat end of the egg.  The egg has a little air pocket on that end, so it just makes it a natural place to grab ahold and start peeling.  When/if that stops working well, start at the other end.  I'm not quite sure why that works better, but it just does (for me, anyway).

--and another helpful tip from Rachel if  you're making deviled eggs:  Put your yummy egg yolk filling in a zip-lock bag.  Cut off one corner and pipe the filling into the egg white.  Nice and Neat!

Hope this is helpful!  And if you're eggs don't peel well, at least you kind of know why they're not!

*This egg dish was my mom's.  She loved that ruby-border glassware!  She also bought the punch bowl and glasses at (what-was-then) Eckerd's Drug Store in Waco.  She frequented that store because it was where she got her film developed.  They offered double-prints when you got  your film developed (a new trend!).  She loved, loved, loved to take pictures of and share pictures of her grandchildren.  It was her goal to make photo albums for each of them.  She started out good...but there were many, many empty albums (that she'd picked up when they were on sale) and bundles and bundles of photographs...neatly labled with dates, of course!

Old Things Used in New Ways...but for the same reasons...

Back around 1971, my mom, dad, my friend Pat Kenner and I made a trip to Hot Springs, Arkansas. It was one of those "4 days and 3 nights in our lovely resort-give ya $50 to spend-just gotta listen to our 30 minute sales pitch" 'free' vacations ... (My dad was one that just loved to string the sales person along...get him to thinking he had a sale for sure, only to say no at the last.)

One of our little jaunts into town included stopping by at an estate sale. I had no idea what an estate sale was. We just sat in some red velvet covered chairs and they showed some trinkets, furniture, jewelry, etc. and an auctioneer did his thing. Well, surprise of all surprises, my Dad bid on and bought my Mother a diamond ring! Pretty cool!

But this barely-turned-17-year old girl was not to be outdone! I wanted a diamond ring, too! I had been working at Safeway for a whopping $2/hr. (and yes, that was a whopping sum back in those days...) By golly, I was going to try to buy me one, too. And I did. My ring was quite a bit like Mom's, but was--brat that I was--just a little bit bigger, and therefore, better, of course!

I did enjoy wearing my ring (and wore it constantly during the few years that I lost the solitaire diamond out of my engagement ring and the time when it could be replaced)...but I'm sure I didn't enjoy it as much as my Mom enjoyed wearing hers. She wore hers all the time until she literally wore it out. (The gold in the band wore thin and broke, therefore causing one of the little side diamonds to fall out.) She also let Stephany wear it between the time that Donnie proposed to her and when he could buy her an engagement ring. The ring had quite a romantic significance during it's tenure in the Conner household...

But the romance in the life of mom's ring lives on past her...

On December 23, 2010, Ira and Kelley Cook became engaged. It was the culmination of their Christmas date-week. (I'll let Kelley and Ira tell their own version of that special week.) Prior to the actual engagment, they got to "open" their stockings. Inside Kelley's stocking were these two gifts:






The ring is (yep, you guesses it) Mom's ring that's been repaired and coated with whatever you coat rings with to make them have a silver color rather than the yellow gold that it is originally. The earrings are made out of the two biggest diamonds of my ring. Isn't that a lovely addition to the story? I would be happy to hear some more lovely, romantical additions to this saga up in Heaven. Nice reunion, I'm thinking....



(PS--Sorry I didn't think to get/ask for "before" pictures...)

A New Season

The first day of Autumn was ushered in this week.

This official declaration of a season change prompted a call to the florist shop. I ordered an arrangement of silk Fall flowers for mom and dad's grave. "So what?" you say.

This is a relatively new ritual in my life. As I was growing up, I honestly don't think we EVER visited a family member's gravesite just to visit or to decorate it up. If another family member died, we might meander over in the cemetery to see where another family member was buried, but that was it.

But when we buried Dad here in Glen Rose and Mom came to live with us, we'd go every now and then to visit Daddy's gravesite. For that one year that I was able to take mom, we'd take a small seasonally appropriate silk arrangement each season.

As I'm reflecting about it right now, I'm not quite sure how Mom felt about it. I would just suggest our going, and of course, (Those of you who knew her personality so well understand completely!) she would never say, "No, I don't want to." I can imagine her being OK with going, but feeling a little guilty (?) because Daddy would never have expected her to or maybe even approved of our going. He was very matter-of-fact about death. Dead was dead. Dead was gone.

To put that in a bit more of a perspective, he did have both a sister and a brother die while he was still a kid. But I've been told (by Mama) that he never even looked at his own mother's dead body. I think people worried about him because of that. I've been told that psychologist say that kind of behavior is an indication that a person never fully accepts that the loved one is gone. I don't think that was the case with Daddy. He accepted death and dealt with it very matter of factly. He never felt a reason to apologize with dealing with emotional issues in the way that suited him best. ...and, yes, sometimes his way of dealing with things was a little less than considerate of the ways that others dealt with them.

In contrast, Bob's mom (and her sisters) had a completely different take on visiting gravesites of family members. She would visit Bob's dad's grave on or around every significant holiday with flowers. Parents' graves would be visited regularly, too.

Anyway, all that meandering to say that I've kept up the little exercise of placing flowers on the grave of my mom and dad each season this past year. My reasoning? It just seems a respectful, peaceful thing for me to do. (and I know that the proximity of the cemetery to the house definitely is an issue!) Even though it's not physically Bob's mom's gravesite, the flowers are for her, too. I may never travel to Houston to put them on her actual plot, but these flowers evoke good memories of her, too.




This little seasonal exercise helps keep the circle of life in perspective for me, too...not in a sad way, just an "in-awe" way. (Ever heard of the Seasons of Life?!) We are expecting to welcome 2 new babies into our family within the next 6 months! What a blessing to be a part of their heritage!

And, yesterday, as I went out to place the flowers, I could see where a new grave had recently been dug. That helps to keep me aware that as I have many reasons to rejoice, there are others in this world--in my very community--that are hurting. I want to be Christ's heart and hands to reach out to them in all seasons.

One Year Ago...

One year ago today Bob and I were making final preparations for a trip to, Washington, D.C. Neither of us had ever been, the kids were after us to get away, and we wanted to do a last "fling" before we "nested" ourselves in for Mom's last days. A reason to celebrate: About 6 weeks before, Mom's prognosis for her Stage 4 lung cancer (which had been diagnosed the previous November) had changed from a couple of months to a couple of years! ...good doctors, good medications, and a gracious God....

I resigned from my first grade teaching position and we were readying ourselves to live the next few years to their very, very fullest.

So, part of our preparations for our departure included getting Mom nestled into Glen Rose Medical Center Nursing Home (where she had previously stayed after a bout of pneumonia for a while). She would enjoy those "hotel" accommodations for about a week while we enjoyed ours in the Eastern United States.

So, late the evening of August 12, 2009, only after being home a couple of hours after spending several hours getting Mom settled into her temporary quarters, I received a phone call from the GRMC-NH that my Mom had fallen and that they had taken her to the emergency room at Glen Rose just to check things out--just to be on the safe side.

Seems like my very-independent-Mama had decided to put herself to bed (She didn't want to bother anyone.) and had slipped and fallen while trying to get a pillow situated and getting her Sonic Diet Coke within reach. (Yes, she, too, was an extreme fan of Sonic's drinks! --and another trivia fact: Southwest Airlines refunded all of our air fare!)

The ER examinations revealed that Mom had indeed broken her hip. Dr. Julia Hutchison was her doctor here and she recommended that Mom be sent to a facility that had a pulmonologist--a place that was able to monitor and treat all her lung conditions as well as her fracture. So we took her to Cleburne's hospital so that she could receive the special attention she needed while getting her orthopedic issues cared for.

(I will just go ahead and say that we were not very satisfied with what went on at the hospital in Cleburne. Most of it boiled down to communication issues, I think. I did receive the satisfaction of voicing my concerns to the president of the hospital board...and it reality, I honestly do not think that any of this would have altered the final outcome of the 10-day journey we would make with my Mother.)

With that said, Mom's surgery did not occur until Sunday, (Yes, they did surgery on Sunday!) a full 4 days after her break. During those few days of waiting, though, it was determined that Mom's heart was functioning at only 25%. Evidently, she had suffered a heart attack at some point, of which we were not aware. We were actually mentally prepared (or as much as you can be) for her not to make it through the surgery; or at best, to never be able to be weaned from the ventilator.

God was good. She made it through surgery like a champ and came off the ventilator the very next day. The respiratory therapist worked with her and got her auxiliary O2 levels back down to an acceptable level. A local (Cleburne) oncologist from Texas Oncology had visited her and she had resumed her Tarceva therapy. Her brothers and sisters were able to come from San Saba and visit with her in the ICU at Cleburne...(I need to get the picture of all them together that Joe took on his phone...) Things were much better than we had ever hoped for.

Then, this is where everything gets a bit fuzzy. She was moved to a regular room (a separate bad story...) in the wee morning hours of Wednesday, August 19 and things started sliding-downward like crazy. She was having terrible trouble breathing and was very anxious. (We were told it was the emphysema-type thing, where one could inhale, but had difficulty exhaling.) She was dosed with Ativan and the auxiliary oxygen levels kept increasing. They were staying in the double-digit range.

So, then, (why?--I asked hospital personnel then and later, too.) it was decided to transport her back to GRMC-NH via ambulance-type transportation on the evening of Thursday, August 20. Of course, a mobile unit is not set up to transport people at that high level of oxygen use and had to stop mid-trip to hook her up to another O2 tank. Bless his heart, the respiratory therapist at GRMC practically met us at the door to care for Mom. I believe his name was Scott. He had come to love Mom through her stay in the hospital during the Fall of '08.

Nursing homes are not equipped to handle people with that high percentage of O2 delivery, either, in case you wondered. Scott sent her back to the ER at Glen Rose later that evening where she had to receive a tracheotomy. The decision was made to transport her to Harris Methodist (Texas Health Resources) in downtown Fort Worth. (We were not going back to Cleburne!)

At the ER in Fort Worth, it was determined that Mom had pneumonia and was septic. With the added issues of her remissive lung cancer and a low heart function rate, a move to the Palliative Care Unit was deemed the appropriate step to take.

We kept her on the trach until all family members could get to Fort Worth to say their good-byes. (Children, grandchildren, and siblings were able to be there.) I don't remember exactly when everyone got there and when the trach was removed, but Mom hung around and listened to music and "danced" with us in her sedated state until around noon on Saturday, August 22, 2009. (Laura Story's "Mighty to Save" brought a wonderfully humorous story into our lives...maybe I'll tell it later.) Then she began her dance with Jesus and my Daddy.

Mom, we miss you, but can't really be sad for you. Thank you for loving us and for helping us realize we need to fully live each day, to find joy in each breath and to love as each day is our last. I'm not sure I ever literally danced with you here on Earth, (Church of Christ influence, maybe? :) but I'm imagining our Heavenly dance. Nice.