"But Mom, I have to bake!"

I don't like to bake.

I particularly don't like to bake in this subpar kitchen.

In a cruel twist of fate, today I find myself baking. I'm not one of those girls that will say, "Yeah, sure, I'll bring some cookies to your event." Actually, I'm NEVER one of those girls. EVER. If my arm is twisted and I'm getting a heavy load of guilt, I will commit, then either get someone else to bake, or buy something.

In case you haven't heard, I live in Chicago, and I don't have a car. If I wanted to buy something, I would have to walk to the store. It's 19 degrees. But, of course, it feels like 5. So, here I am, staring at my one option: A box of cake mix. I will turn that cake into cookies, but I'm not happy about it. Also, I'm not sure what recipe to use. I don't have any books that detail baking secrets. (I'm looking for something like, Secret #1: How to bake without actually having to bake.) And although I have mad google-ing skills, I'm not sure which recipe is most like the one I've seen in the book at my parents' house. So, I called my mother.

"Mom, I have to bake." grumble grumble grumble, injustice injustice injustice. "Are you at home? Can you give me that cake mix cookie recipe?"

"No, I'm not at home, but I could try and remember it for you." She gives me the basics, and then can't quite remember a portion, and I ask, "Where are you?"

"I'm at Marie's funeral."

"Oh jeez. And I'm complaining about baking."

"Yes, and I don't know what I've told you, but my mom fell and she has a broken pelvis." She goes on about all the drama surrounding that, and how for some reason, Grandma came home from the hospital without really being treated, and because of her dementia, kept forgetting that she has a broken pelvis, and kept trying to stand and walk, and it's been terrible and a mess, and the whole family is stressed out. I suggested putting up a sign for Grandma that says, "You have a broken pelvis. Don't get up." Mom laughed, but told me they were finally able to admit Grandma into the hospital this morning, so my sign was not needed.

I tried to complain a little bit more about having to bake, but Mom just laughed at me. She said, "I'm dealing with life and death over here, I think you can manage your baking just fine."

In a last ditch effort to get her to understand the severity of my position I exclaimed, "But Mom, I have to bake!"

Marie Memories

There are a few things that I am looking forward to when I go home for Christmas, one of those being Sunday family dinners with Grandma and Marie.

I got the news last night that Marie passed away that afternoon.

I can't believe Marie won't be at Sunday dinner when I go home.

She was 93. I'm just glad she can be with her husband, Duke, again. He passed on February 2, 2002. You may think it's random that I remember the date, but it was 02/02/02, it was the date that I celebrated my 18th birthday, and it is also Marie's birthday. Oh, and plus, Groundhog Day.

Indulge with me in a short walk down memory lane. I feel like I may never find an appropriate time to recall such memories, so I might as well do it now.

Duke used to sit out on his porch smoking his pipe, watching over the neighborhood. We would wave every time we passed him, and he would always inform my father when some of my friends would drive in an unsafe manner up to our house. Duke would bring over rib bones in a bread bag every once in a while for our dog Sadie. She loved him. Whenever Sadie would get out of our yard, we could usually find her over at Duke's. When she passed away, we buried her on Duke's property. Duke would come over and shoot the breeze with Dad while he was outside working. He'd always call me Trouble, and he was basically right.

After Duke passed, my family started inviting Marie over for dinner on major holidays. Then it became every Sunday. Marie was a very independent woman, full of spunk and drive. She would walk to her church meetings no matter the weather, she could be found climbing ladders, or trying to move something that was way too big for her.

My last memory with Marie took place on a warm Sunday evening in July, the time right after the meal when we are all sitting around on the veranda basking in the happiness of satisfied hunger. We were discussing my imminent move to Chicago, and Marie mentioned that she had spent some time in Chicago. She moved to Chicago by herself to get a job, and because she had been there, and done the exact thing I was about to do, she gave me some advice. First, when you get there, just walk into a business and tell them you are good at typing, and you should get hired on the spot. Second, if you ever get lost, just sit down, take a moment, and find Wells Street. You'll know once you find Wells exactly how to get home.

I had really tried to get the year that she was in Chicago, but every time I would ask, she would just say, "Oh, that was a very long time ago." My guess is that she was here in the late 1930's to early 40's. Anyway, sometimes I think about her when I get lost or when I cross Wells.

Another memory I like is from last Easter, when she found Mary and I in her garden hijacking her blossoms when she came home from church. She didn't mind sharing her blossoms, and it didn't phase her to see us on her property at all. Instead, we had a good conversation about the Risen Lord and what that means to us.

I can't help but contrast this memorial with my Great Grandmother's memorial. Maybe I could have done a better job with Great Grandma's memorial. I do indeed have many memories of her.

I feel blessed to have had the past couple of years to live with my parents and experience all that came with it. I got to know my family better, and I got to know Marie much better as well. Marie lived across the street from me my whole life. She watched me grow up. I guess the point that I'm trying to make, if it is possible, is to become family with your neighbors, and try and have your neighbors be your family.

What do you remember about Marie?

Marie

Marie is 92 (ish) years of age.

Did you know?

Also, she was walking to Circle K the other day when she fell.

Someone helped her up, I think she finished her trip to Circle K, and then she went home.

This happened about two weeks ago. She has been in a lot of pain recently.

She has been to the doctor, and they didn't have anything to say.

My parents have gone to the store for her a few times, getting different pain medications to see if anything helps. My mother has started taking Marie dinner.

Marie actually didn't go to Church this weekend, and she always goes to Church. She didn't come to Sunday dinner either. Mom brought her a plate of food that she could eat at her leisure. By the way, on Sunday we had three different kinds of potatoes with dinner; it was very fun. We had some golden potatoes, some purple potatoes, and some sweet potatoes.

Marie wasn't at dinner, but Grandma was. She kept telling us of the dangers of Marie accidentally mixing medicines, or not eating enough or not drinking enough, or not getting enough exercise. She shared her opinion of Marie's use of her air conditioner, and she also shared her opinion of Marie's two inattentive sons. Let's just say Grandma didn't have anything nice to say about them. She didn't hold back, and it also didn't seem to matter that it was the Sabbath.

Anyway, I wanted to keep you updated on Marie. I'm not saying anything about anything.

I'm just saying.

Reckoned With!

Tonight before dinner I asked Brandon if he was going to compete in the semi-secret race against Marie. He nodded his head like there wouldn't be any problem crushing her.


He completely misjudged the extent of this event.

He started out strong. He made a lot of conversation. He took small bites. He had a lot left on his plate when Mom, Dad and Mary had finished. And then... I don't know what happened, but he went back for seconds and finished before Marie. That Marie is a force to be reckoned with! And today, I reckoned with her! Bam! I was totally the last one eating! I was so proud of myself.

Sigh.

It sure was nice to have someone to compete with though. Sometimes when it's only Marie and I the competition doesn't have all the fire it deserves.

"We are on our own, Marie."

This week has a busy Wednesday. My Aunt, Uncle and Laura are moving to Missouri. My parents are going on vacation for... I don't know. Two weeks? Three weeks? All I know is that they leave on Wednesday.

This means Mary and I, but mostly I, will be in charge of Grandma. I told Grandma to call me on my cell because I never answer the house phone. I usually only answer the house phone when Judy Mallett is calling. Grandma told me I needed to pick up her mail every two days and bring it over to her frequently because she doesn't want it to get stale. FYI, the post office is on one end of town, I live in the middle, and Grandma lives on the other end of town. I just wanted you to know that. Also, please do not drop off the mail during nap time (a time that varies every day), toilet time, or eating time.

She also reminded me I need to take her barrels to the street on Sunday and bring them down on Monday. I will tell you that you shouldn't be too hasty on Monday. Don't think that just because it is the afternoon the trash has been collected. No no. You will be making two trips if you do that. Although, if you wait past seven P.M. to bring down the cans, you will get a frantic phone call from Grandma worried sick that you have forgotten to bring down her barrels, and don't forget, because she apparently has a lot to put in them seeing how it's been 24 hours since she has been near them. So, it is ideal to take the barrels down right around dinner time and FHE time, thanks.

The removal of my parents from Atascadero also means a removal of family dinners. Grandma tells Marie as they are walking out the door, "No more dinners until July, Marie. We are on our own Maire, we are on our own." She makes it sound like they will probably die in the meantime.

So, this also means I am available for dinner for the next two Sundays. Does anyone want to feed me? And can I bring Grandma and Marie?

Asparagus and SFG

Today Marie brought over asparagus from her garden. Woot woot! First asparagus bunch of the season! I'm so excited. We are having them with dinner.

In other news, Mom has become obsessed with Square Foot Gardening. Well, maybe not obsessed, but she has convinced Dad it is the way to go. Mother doesn't remember how she heard about Square Foot Gardening. I tried to ask her when she knew that the SFG method was the right method for her, but she had no idea. She obviously needed some help, so she went to the Atascadero Library and ordered All New Square Foot Gardening, Grow More in Less Space! by Mel Bartholomew from the Blanchard Community Library in Santa Paula, California.

I don't even really know where Santa Paula is located.

While we were waiting for the book to arrive, Mother was saying how she wants everyone to have a certain amount of square feet to grow whatever they want. I knew my parents would grow the fruits and vegetables. So I decided on flowers and peanuts. Hopefully I have chosen flowers that will work well in vases. You know, flowers with long stems, none of this Impatients or Petunia business.

Also, I decided it was time to grow some peanuts. It turns out you just need a few raw peanuts, and you are good to go. Apparently, you plant them now, and then harvest them in the fall. I can't hardly wait. I had found directions for the SFG method, but Mom informed me that she didn't want my peanuts mingling with everything else, so they have been cast out of the raised beds and into a wine barrel!

I hope my peanuts don't taste like wine.

I picked up my seeds at the store yesterday after work and was planning on planting them today. At breakfast Mom and I were reading out loud interesting bits from the SFG book. I was doing some dishes when she suddenly reads a passage to me:

Looking through a seed catalog is not the best way to decide what to grow. They make it all look so good and sound so exciting that you can easily get carried away. I recommend you review your shopping list from last week and last month. That eliminates the "Oh, I'd like to grow that!" or "Wouldn't it be fun to grow peanuts?"

Mother nearly passed out laughing.

Just so you know, I planted my peanuts this morning.


Mel Bartholomew did not start as a gardener. He started as a civil engineer and as an efficiency expert. He's all about efficiency. He tosses out the old way of doing things, and comes up with better ways. I like him, I'm excited for our garden this year. While he was promoting this idea, a main point was to help children understand how to garden, and to encourage parents to garden with their children, bringing them closer together and to improve the family's diet.

The last two paragraphs of his book state:

Well, here I am, on my soapbox trying to solve worldwide problems when you just want to learn how to have a better garden in your yard. But what this book is all about it how SFG can reach and help so many more people.

That's the significant and imperative message I want to bring to the world. Will you help me? You can--by encouraging others to have an SFG. Get involved in your community or stretch your involvement to the entire world. Anyone, anywhere in the world can now have a small square meter garden right at their back door. The nutritional value of the children's diet will improve dramatically and step-by-step, as they expand their garden, that family will be closer to self-sufficiency and independence from government and private aid programs. You know the saying, "Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." The world hunger problem can never be solved until we help people help themselves, step-by-step, square-by-square. Then, maybe the saying will be, "Show a family how to Square Meter Garden, and they will feed themselves forever."

I don't mean to become obsessed with SFG, but I think it is an interesting idea. I can't wait to report on our experiences. I'll report on my peanut crop too, even though Mel is a hater.

Correct Time

Perhaps one of my favorite parts about Daylight Saving Time is when all the old ladies (Grandma and Marie) bring their watches and clocks with them to dinner so that Dad can set them to the correct time.

Success!

I did it! I was officially the last one eating at dinner tonight! I kicked Marie's trash!!!!

WOOT WOOT!!!!

(Yes, that was a double "woot.")


I would like to thank SLO 3rd Ward for providing food after church, so when I made it home I wasn't desperate for food.

I would like to thank my mother, who made a salad with many little nooks and crannies which enabled me to eat the salad very slowly, one nook or cranny at a time.

I would like to thank Mary for giving me a headband to look cute, I would like to thank Grandma for being her natural charming self, and I would like to thank Marie for bringing some friendly competition to the dinner table.

And finally, I would like to thank Dad, who gave me a reassuring nod and asked, "Going for the title?" which gave me the courage to really finish strong and finally accomplish my dream.

Thank you.

"On the GRASS?!?!?"

Mother's Day was pretty great. It started out with Mary and I giving mom this poster and mom saying, "If I lay down next to it, do you think it will look like I am standing?"

Probably.

We told her later that we had something else for her, and she said, "Did you write me a poem? Memorize a scripture?"

Dang it. If only I knew that is what she wanted, I could have memorized a scripture for her. Maybe I'll recite a hymn for her birthday.


Dinner was a delightful meal. Once Marie finally got there, that is. Marie was late for dinner, and Grandma started complaining that the hamburgers wouldn't be hot by the time Marie gets here. (btw, Grandma is very food temperature sensitive. She always worries that something will get cold or get too hot and blah blah blah blah blah.) Well, I went across the street to collect Marie, and I find out she hadn't received a note inviting her to dinner. She was right; someone dropped the ball. I blame dad.

As I was walking across the street with Marie, I was thinking that we were making great time. It would take Grandma about 3 times the amount of time it took us to cross the street, and there was significant less grunting and complaining.

I learned a few things at dinner, and one of them is that Grandma is certain she won't last more than 5 years, and the other is that 90% of Marie's known family died at 96. She is currently 90, and Grandma is 82, so we still have a few more years left of Sunday night dinner to look forward to.

Mary wanted some pictures of the ladies, which I thought was a great idea, so we told them to head outside. Grandma freaked out when she learned we wanted her to walk on the grass, but she had her cane and mom to hold on to, so she made it just fine. There was some hullabaloo about just where on the grass to stand, but we got it all figured out, and we got the picture.