Streeeeetch

We woke up this morning to 57-degree weather and at the same time, Bruce and I both said, "Oooh, that's chilly."

It was nearly 80-degrees by the time we finished breakfast and Lil E played a few rounds of putt-putt on the practice green next to the pool, so we were OK. It just didn't take very long for us to be completely out of our element before adjusting to this crazy, winter weather (Arizona style).

Also out of our Thanksgiving element, we didn't contribute any dishes to last night's feast, we didn't have seconds or even stick around long enough for pie and coffee. Lil E was fading fast, so Bruce wrapped up his round in the cribbage tourney and we headed back to the hotel. While he slept in our room, Bruce and I settled in across the hall in my in-laws room, watched a Top Chef marathon and shared candy from front desk convenience shop. It wasn't homemade double-crust apple pie over Scrabble, but there was quiet and chocolate and that was surprisingly good.

Since we ate dinner at Bruce's uncle's friend's house (got that?), there weren't leftovers today (except styrofoam boxes with tacos all carbon). No tiny wedges of pie snuck in with breakfast, no little turkey and cran sandwiches on dinner rolls. No turkey soup simmering on the stove all afternoon. No waiting in line with our plate at the microwave and no arguing over whose turn it is to unload the dishwasher again.

Pushing ourselves further outside our element, we went to WalMart for snacks and water and supplies. We have a general guideline not to head out on Black Friday for frantic shopping, but we even braved the toy aisle for a while. We rarely shop at WalMart because there isn't one in Chicago (yet) and I'm not sure I feel entirely OK with spending (even the smallest portion of) my salary there, but we did it. And damn, I got some good deals.

Finally, not having a schedule or even any real plans has set me well outside of my element.  We are with Bruce's family and so I am challenged trying to keep our time-keeping only to naps and bedtimes and then just (deep breath) go with the flow. As much as I hate to admit it, I'm like a small child who can't enjoy coloring this one page until I know that snack is next and then ni-ni follows twenty minutes later. What can I say? Maybe I'm not as good at the vacay as I once was.  Maybe I'm not as good at the extended family vacay as I'd like to be.

Maybe all this living on the edge - or at least outside the lines - is good for us, for me. Maybe I'll even post pool-side tomorrow or test my healing tummy with a margarita. We'll see. I'll just put on my sunglasses, slip off my flip-flops and see.

Click to read more ...

Grateful, Part 3

It is Thanksgiving morning and we are in a hotel in Phoenix.* Lil E is taking an early nap, my in-laws are getting ready for the day and we are preparing for a meal and a day with family we don't see very often.

We are far away from the wintry Midwest, from my family and from the few traditions we do have for this holiday.

That isn't a new thing or a bad thing. I've spent many Thanksgivings on the other side of the country from my family, sometimes working, sometimes with friends, sometimes at tables of kind and generous people I don't know very well. While my mother and her mother-in-law and my aunt pull dishes in and out of the oven in southern Indiana, and while I sit back while the other cooks in this kitchen create our meal, I will only be missing one tradition - making pies with my Grandma Alice.

For many years when we were together on Thanksgiving, my grandmother and I would roll out the dough, slice apples, mix pecans with brown sugar and bake away a full day in the kitchen. I would work from the tattered recipe cards in my grandmother's tin box and she would work from memory and feel.  Her hands are amazing, especially when they were at work in her kitchen. She would knead through large balls of dough with strong hands and then lightly sprinkle flour on the rolling pin with the softest touch. Later, when the pies were filled and nearly ready for the oven, she would deftly crimp the edges and artistically slice precise designs in the top layer of crust.

When the pies were golden and bubbled up on the edges, looking beautifully imperfect, we would pull them from the oven to cool. Then we would pull out her special pie basket with two layers for keeping pies safe for travels. The great satisfaction would come when we'd arrive, carrying the basket carefully, and present the pies at the center of the table.

My grandmother was never humble about her pies. She knew she had a gift and she knew her pies were the prize of any Thanksgiving meal. She would hold a knowing smile tight when my cousins would beam, "Where are Alice's pies? They're the best part of the meal!"  She knew how much each person ate and she express concern if anyone didn't eat what she considered enough pie. Don't you feel well honey?, she would ask.

My grandmother's pie-making secrets are my own now. And when my mother and I are together for Thanksgiving, we make the pies together. Baking pies with my mother is bittersweet. She has the same strong and soft hands, the same pride in creating beautiful, delectable desserts. As we knead and fill and slice and slide the pies into the basket we now have as our own, the joy of cooking is met with the longing to have Grandma Alice there in the kitchen with us.

My grandmother is in a county nursing home in southern Illinois and she does not know today is different from any other day. Alzheimer's has taken her mind to remote places, sometimes far, far away from us, and sometimes, grateful to see us at her bed or beside her wheelchair when we visit. She is 98 years old and as a woman, as a mother, as her granddaughter, one of the best parts of my life has been having her with me for so long.  It is harder now, grieving the loss of her in pieces. We have been so close, sharing many times as a family in my 34 years.

We have never been more connected than we were, side by side, baking Thanksgiving pies in the kitchen.

Today, while Bruce's family cooks and my family sits down together far away, I will take the day to enjoy, be thankful and connect to my grandmother in my memories in my prayers - grateful, grateful.

* We hobbled here, barely on the mend from the most heinous stomach flu ev.er, but we made it. Somehow, we made it. Bruce says we got Thanksgiving backward, with the purge before the binge. But binge after two days of that horror? Oh no.

Photo credit: Grandma Alice, Jessica & Lil E (2005) by Jessica Ashley

Click to read more ...

He's bringing stuffing back

File this under "Quote of the (Turkey) Day." Maybe it will come in handy when you're hunting for a good grace to say before dinner.

I like Thanksgiving meals. The dressing and the turkey.
~Justin Timberlake

Click to read more ...