I’m having a busy day. Three months ago I quit smoking, three weeks ago I took up walking again and I’m up to 2 miles a day, and today I discovered I have shin splints and an incredible craving for a cigarette. This, perhaps, is not forward progress. Instead of shutting down like a bad ignition switch, I drove into town and bought a pair of “proper” walking shoes that were purchased by measuring my feet, my stance, my age (no they are not laced to the knee), and, amazingly my personality, which would mean they lit up in the dark and were any color but white. Back in the day there weren’t any specialty shoes, just shoes. You walked in them, ran in them, they mostly looked the same and the wearers were rarely mugged by an envious criminal because theirs looked pretty much like their neighbors. Nobody seemed to develop foot problems with exotic names like meliofaciatoesinthewrongplaceis. Maybe we were a tougher, meaner generation back then. I’m just saying. Women had babies without birthing centers and Zen teachers in attendance, if you had a cold you took an aspirin and bought a box of Kleenex and sucked it up, and cars were more of a necessity than an accessory, except, of course, the Corvette, which from the first model has always been among my favorite accessories. That’s another blog.
The past few months have flown by like the first twenty years of my life. Today we are watching two of our grandsons, six and nine. They’re easy to watch nowadays as we drew a line in the sand and established that we were considerably bigger, seriously more ornery, far more hormone deficient, and most probably held the winning hand no matter the dealer. I’m not a good tantrum Nana. Just don’t believe in them. If you need to get a good one out and into the atmosphere I support it wholeheartedly as I’ve felt that way myself, but for me to stick around and listen to you do it just isn’t my style. I don’t have a list of ridiculous rules as I want them to continue wanting to share my company, but I do have some steadfast ones. I don’t care if you make a mess as long as you sniff around it, identify it as yours, and take responsibility for it. Damage of property is big for me. I was taught as a little person that you should respect other people’s property more than your own, and I try to do that and expect them to take a good stab at it. I may not get the “grandma of the year” badge but I will say they give me lot of love in return and do their best to take responsibility for themselves when they’re in our house and hopefully create a great memory. I appreciate that. As I always told my children, there’s a reason why there’s a “zzzzzzzzzzzz” in lazy.
Susie snacks are also popular. I don’t keep a lot of chips, cookies, etc. on hand, not because I’m a wonderful proponent of good health, although I am, but because they’ll end up being processed by my digestive system before they ever have the opportunity to trickle down to the little people. Therefore, for all of our well-being I provide snacks of yogurt, string cheese, cups of blueberries, blackberries, and strawberries, and unbuttered popcorn. They love it. My friends are constantly on me for the fact that I serve snacks, sides, dips, etc. in small individual containers and that my other half gets cups with olives, pickles, beets, fruit, salad, etc. on his plate with his lunch, and my grandchildren are provided the same with their snacks. It makes me feel special when I do it for myself, and it makes them feel special when I do it for them. Life is a little “un-special” in many ways lately and I think that every way that we can make it feel better without removing our wallet from our purse to make it happen is a good thing. At any rate, it works for us.
In the middle of my day which has been bordering on a bridled chaos, the church ladies, as I call them, knocked on the front door. How I believe and what I believe are my business but I support all people believing whatever works for them and these ladies are very kind and not terribly pushy so I just don’t have the heart to hide in the corner with the lights off until they go away. I just don’t. After listening and participating because, after all, that’s what it’s all about, I thanked them for sharing and got back to packing and prepping dinner. Ach.
Mexican food is my guilty pleasure. If I could eat it without plugging an artery a day, I would eat it every day. Carmen, my dear friend and guardian of my children when they were young, taught me that cooking in the true Mexican style required no cutting of corners, no lite names involved, and a true feeling for hot, hot flavors, and a generous dash or two of lard. Since then, I’ve been hooked. We cooked tortillas on her little grill and made fresh salsa together. What a cook she was.
This is a great recipe that I found and added a thing or two to, but it’s sooooo yummy.
Stacked Burrito Casserole
2 lbs. ground beef
1/2 cup chopped green onions
2 cans, 10 oz. red enchilada sauce less 1/2 cup
1/2 cup chunky deli salsa
1 pkg. Lawry’s hot taco seasoning
1 Tbsp. ground cumin
1 pkg. 8.5 oz. Spanish rice mix, prepared to pkg. directions
12 8″ flour tortillas
1 15 oz. can refried beans
4 cups Mexican cheese blend
Cook beef and onions in large skillet until browned and cooked through. Add enchilada sauce, chunky salsa, taco seasoning and cumin. Heat thoroughly.
Heat rice according to pkg. directions. Spread each tortilla with 2 Tbsp. of beans. On bottom of 13″ x 9″ pan spread 1 cup meat mix. Layer with 4 tortillas and 1/3 of rice, and 1/3 of remaining meat mixture and cheese. Repeat leayers. Top with remaining tortillas, rice, and meat.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cook covered for 20 mins. Top casserole with remaining cheese. Bake uncovered for 15 mins. Let stand for 10 mins.
Top with sour cream, extra salsa, tomatoes, lettuce, and avocado.