dinner

I have never made a thanksgiving dinner before.

My mom, grandma, or Miriam always took care of that detail.

The day was spent working on a door into our down bedroom. It did not go terribly well, but we have company tomorrow, so I got it so it would work, and let it go.

I cleaned up a bit while Miriam finished working on a batch of cookies she was making.

Being vegetarian it is quite impossible for me to worry about fixing a “regular” dinner.

So I made potato soup. I got the recipe from Cooks.com. The recipe called for “heavy cream” so I used the poor people’s version: evaporated milk. When it was all finished, I put it in the bowls and sprinkled some selantro on top.

I also made some biscuits. Miriam made a salad, and in my fiew no thanksgiving or christmas dinner is complete without cranberry sauce, so I opened a can.

Of course there was grape juice to wash it all down. Shucks I even lit a candle.

It was a good meal with enough soup left over that will go in the freezer for another day.

It is not my goal to have a lot of thanksgivings with jsut the two ofus, but we can if we have to.

As long as I am not expected to do that proper dinner we can make it.

and

Today is the special day set aside to be thankful, in the USA any way.

Even on a bad day we should be thankful, mom always said.

We rarely spend Thanksgiving alone, but that is how it will be this year. That was my choice, daughters offered fine invitations.

We will have company tomorrow, but today is just my beloved Miriam and I.

And so far, I am in a dark mood.

I have never been this age before.

I am not sure I like it.

Once I had a friend who, at 85 complained that he just was not the man he once was. He said he used to carry two bags of cement (100 pounds each), one in each arm, and now, he said, he could only carry one, and that with some difficulty.

This week a couple of times I have felt that twinge, or more.

There was a british comedy (those brits have a way with comedy that mixes silliness with biting reality) about two old coots who were living in a retirement center. They got into a lot of mischief, either brought to them or created by them, but at the end of the series the mood became quite dark and hopeless.

I sense that. Last night I was watching tv and reading and Miriam was sitting in her chair sleeping, and I got this feeling of impending doom. One of the things I read was by Thomas Friedman from the New York Times:

For the next few years we’re all going to be working harder for less money and fewer government services — if we’re lucky.

Right now I can still do pretty much what I want, physically. I just do not want as much, maybe. I just finished a project here at our house, and I could start another soon, but I there are other constraints.

And it is winter, my most unfavorite time of year. We took up cross country skiing once to give me something to look forward to in winter. Still have the skis, but the fear of falling reduces the potential joy of that activity.

This morning I got up at 5, emptied the ashes from the wood stove, and built a fire. It did not sound right, so I looked again, and the rope sealer that keeps the fire box tight and controls the burning is falling lose. I don’t know how to repair it yet, but it is to hot to try now. I will have to wait for it to cool.

Sort of like life itself.

The British comedy was called: “Waiting for heaven.”

Hmm.

paul

I have been buying glass at the same store for a long time.

It has been long enough that the owner and I are on first name basis as well as the assistant: Paul.

Paul and I have become friend in a limited way. He is not married now, but may have been in the past. That was never a matter of conversation. I do that he was the caretaker for his father who was in his mid 80’s.

Paul was very fond of his father. IT was easy to tell as we visited.

Full time job and being solo caretaker is a heavy load and Paul has carried it for a long time.

Today I went to the glass shop to pick up a hunk of glass.

HE was busy and frazzled, but we visited a few minutes.

I asked him how his father is doing, as I often do. “Dad died in August.”

Obviously I had not asked in a long while.

“You were very fond of your father,” I offered lamely.

Indeed he was and he said he did ok until he started thinking about it then he got real sad real fast. I apologized for bringing the subject up and patted him on the shoulder.

We will still be friends, though I won’t go into the glass shop too often, though now that I am retired and am finished with the church job I won’t be in there often.

I know he was sort of glad the pain was over, but he also misses his father terribly.

There is no end of grief in this world.

formula

How to make granola -- or not.

Ok, what do I know about making granola. I am good reading recipes, but not too good at following them. Mostly.

Daughter Arline makes wonderful granola, and one day I got her recipe. (when I worked in a bakery when I was in high school, products were made from a “formula” and not a “recipe”. I still follow that warped view).

10 cups of quick cooking oats. That one I never mess with.

1 cup of shredded Cocoanut. (OK, if 1 is good 1 ½ would probably be even better, so I use 2)

1 cup of nuts/seeds. (Now hang on: big hand full of roasted peanuts; another hand full of almonds, chopped; the same of walnuts; any other handy nuts, hand full or more; then a whole bunch of sun flower seeds, pumpkin seeds, and even sesame seeds.

We have had a jar of cake decorating sprinkles in the cupboard for decades (plus or minus), so I put a fist full of those in.

½ c of oil. I used olive oil and did not cheat

½ c of honey. Often add some molasses, but did not this time.

1 ½ t of salt

2 t vanilla.

I use our largest stainless bowl to mix it all in, and I get in there with my hands. Sticky, yes.

Put it all in a big pan of some sort, and put in the oven at 170 degrees. Every hour turn it over for about 4 hours or until it tastes “cooked.”

Cool totally.

Add another really big hand full of chocolate chips (or two), any dried fruit you can locate (chopped), and a fair bit of cinnamon.

With that chocolate and dried fruit and nuts you can hardly taste those "healthy" oats.

When Arline comes to visit, I will hide the tupperware container, lest she think that was HER formula!

Next time should I try some Worcester sauce?