After the past few weeks I believe there should be a Guide to Surviving the holidays lining Barnes and Noble shelves. A simple “how-to” book offering the reader helpful tips to manage their time, their relatives, their kitchen, without leaving hair in the sink and turning to the wine rack for solace. As I don’t drink, or rarely imbibe, I might more likely look to the white box on the entry way table marked “See’s”. Ah yes, the dark chocolate nibble with the sprinkles on top does much my friends to ease a tired mind.
All the little wrinkles and imperfections in a family seem to rise to the surface during the holidays. Perhaps it is because we spend more time together in an excitement fueled party like atmosphere, or just memories of holidays good and bad are revisited, or old wounds or the love we share come to mind. I have no answers as usual, only questions about why this seems to be true.
My mother has determined I should write a book about our family. She feels it would fly off the shelves. Truly, looking back there is definitely some material for a volume or two, but I would have to write it under a pseudonym if I wish to continue living my life in my space.
We made it down to the Bay Area just before Christmas accompanied by many other travelers, and back again with my mother and her roommate in tow. As we age it seems the roles reverse in a way with our parents. Where they once watched over us, we are now tasked with keeping an eye on them. I adore my mother so this is a job I try to approach with much patience and joy. I know some day the memories I make with her now will be what I have to keep moving forward when she is no longer with me.
Getting everyone packed and ready to go was a project. I reminded my mom to grab the garage door opener as they were being picked up at the train station by a shuttle service on the way back and she would need it to get in. Five minutes later I found her standing in front of the open garage trying to close the door with her car keys. Okay. I find myself doing odd things these days myself, so I simply explained that pushing the little button marked “trunk” was never going to achieve the desired result of closing the door to the garage.
People have told me I am a fairly patient being. This is not entirely true. There are times when I want to throw my hands up in the air and run screaming down the street. For the most part I try to remain calm. Losing your temper or getting frustrated doesn’t feed the screaming baby, if you get my drift.
Once everyone was loaded in the car and my mother had gone back in the house her usual two to three times to retrieve items already in the car or check the stove I assured her was off, we got the sideshow on the road. I know it is show on the road, but in our case sideshow just seems more appropriate. The plan was to meet my son and his family on the way north for lunch. They would be coming south on the same freeway returning from a from a pre-holiday ski trip to Lake Tahoe. The idea was that if we left at approximately the same time of day, at some juncture we would pass one another. Wherever that location might be we were to stop and meet for a bite to eat. Now what could possibly go wrong with such a seamless plan as that? It might had been helpful if we’d named a general location. Yes, that definitely would have given us a leg up. At least we planned on leaving on approximately the same time of day. However, we hadn’t factored in the huge snow storm blanketing the Tahoe area, nor my mother checking the house fifty times, nor the road construction and holiday traffic. Nooooo, we didn’t figure that in. Soooooo, where we passed in the middle turned out to be along a line of highway undergoing road construction where you couldn’t exit the freeway. Swell. Thankfully we had cell phone communication so as they flew by us going south, we flew by them going north. None of us familiar with the area it took ten phone conversations and three near misses to finally hook up at Applebee’s for a bit of holiday cheer.
Two of my pre-teen grandchildren were present, both what I would call “picky eaters”. One, as I recall, existed on hot dogs for an entire year, wieners being the only thing the child would consume. I have to admit parenting now as compared to parenting in the Paleozoic area when I was doing it, I would find most confusing. I never asked my children what they would they would like to eat. Rather I presented a meal worth eating and said “eat”. It seemed to work. Not that they liked everything. I would be overstating my amazing parenting skills was I to try to fly that past you. They did, however, have to at least try what was given them and if they loaded their plates were expected to eat what they took. Mom’s Rules. My son loathed peas. It was not that he hadn’t tried them, rather he had tried them often and found them revolting. There was no rhyme or reason to it, the child simply hated the little buggers. My husband decided that he was going to insist my son finish the peas on his plate. I suggested this was a bad idea but my husband persisted with the pea persecution anyhow. This, I felt, was not going to end well. The peas went down finally, but his body apparently had gotten the word from his taste buds that these little green intruders were not welcome. As quickly as they went down they reappeared, this time on my linen tablecloth. Insert “I told you so”, here. Thank you. I handed my husband a wash cloth and excused myself. My work there was done. I think kids should have the option of turning down a food they really cannot tolerate. If I found okra on my plate every night for dinner you would have to get in a large supply of linen tablecloths to handle the traffic. However, I also believe kids need to be exposed to new and different tastes and not limited to canned corn as a vegetable. Just my thoughts for the day.
These oatmeal cookies are crispy on the outside with a chewy yummy middle. They disappear like free money when I make them for visitors.
Hope your year has started out with a roar. Everybody’s in line for the Power Ball drawing as no one won again last night. I’m sure my little ticket has winner written all over it. I understand the odds of winning are as likely as me having identical quintuplets. Hmmm.
Brandy Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
12 Tbsp. of butter, softened
3/4 cup firmly packed brown sugar
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs, beaten
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. brandy
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
3/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
1 cup raisins
2 cups old fashioned oats
1/2 cups finely chopped walnuts
Preheat oven to 375
Cream butter and sugars until light and fluffy. Beat in eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Add vanilla extract, and brandy. Mix until well blended.
In a separate mixing bowl whisk together cinnamon, flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Add to butter mixture in increments, mixing well with each addition. Add oats, raisins and walnuts and mix well.
Use two spoons to form balls and Place 2″ apart on ungreased cookie sheet. Press down slightly with fork.
Bake for 15 mins. until golden brown.
Allow to rest on cookie sheet for 5 mins. before removing to rack to cool.
Makes a little over two dozen