Kitchen shopping with my daughter
Jessie is moving into a new apartment at the end of the month. She’s leaving her roommate behind, so the packing process includes sorting out her kitchenware from Kim’s. And that means we get to go shopping!
We found an online site, Shopwiki, that searches for all sorts of kitchen and dining tools sold at other sites, based on your search criteria. First of all, Jessie needed some kitchen knives. She claims that she has plenty of knives, but I had to gently tell her that those weren’t real knives, they were dull pieces of metal too old for Joe and I to sharpen anymore. We gave them to her because, well, we didn’t really think she’d be cooking much. The kitchen knives section not only shows a variety of knife sets and blocks, but also has a knife buying guide which was much more effective than my personal opinion that she needed a better set.
I had forgotten how long it takes to build up a truly useful collection of kitchen gadgets, but I see that Jessie’s supply is pitifully small. On this site I found a couple of collections of gadgets that have all the ordinary items like spatulas and ladles, but also tools like a lemon zester and a garlic press. She doesn’t understand about things like lemon zesters yet, but someday she’ll need it and she’ll be glad she bought it. Now that’s she’s cooking more often, I’m going to talk her into buying the panini press I spotted on Shopwiki - so that I can borrow it, of course. Now that I have an adult daughter, I get all the benefits of her gadgets without the expense!
Published by angelawd on May 9th, 2008 tagged Blogging | 5 Comments »
Newton’s 2nd Law of Dentistry
You may not be familiar with this branch of physics, but Newton’s second law of dentistry is this: a frantic toothbrushing and flossing the morning of your dentist appointment will not erase six months of neglect.
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I have a trick tooth that stumps my dentist every time I visit him. Remember the last visit? I had a root canal years ago so there’s no nerves there, but the tooth still hurts. Which is actually humanly impossible. He’s perplexed, and at every appointment I say never mind, I just won’t chew on that side when it hurts, and I’ll deal with the problem when the pain is worse.
I know this is not a good idea. I know it because if there’s anything that the movie “Cast Away” taught me, it’s that at any time your plane could crash in the ocean and you could be stranded alone on an island with a bad tooth that you eventually have to smash out with a rock. And then faint.
So you see that the problem affects more than my ability to chew on one side. It also means that I have to avoid any trans-oceanic flights. And there are still lots of things I want to see at the other side of the ocean. Something must be done with the tooth. Should I set up a tip jar for my dental bills?
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Update: I have a new post up on my Teen Tamer site at Capessa. Click over there to read about one of my funniest mom moments - and share yours!
Published by angelawd on May 7th, 2008 tagged Joyful living | 2 Comments »
Margarita Brain Damage
Tequila makes me stupid. I definitively proved that as a young adult, but since I have a margarita so seldom, I forget about tequila’s odd effect on my mind.
At Friday’s Cinco De Mayo (or to be precise, Dos De Mayo) party I had two Margaritas, enough to ensure an ENTIRE EVENING OF HEARTBURN and “Catchphrase” foolishness. Folks, I ROCK at Catchphrase. It must have been the tequila that made the following things happen to me:
Phrase: Foul shot
Me: “OK, I don’t know much about sports but I think this is hockey-”
Friends: ”Puck! Slap shot! Skates!”
Me: “It’s when you hit the puck, and…”
Friends: “Hat Trick! …! …!”
Me: “This may not even be hockey, I have no idea.”
Connie’s ten year old daughter comes over to help me. “No, I think this is baseball.”
Friends: “Foul Ball! Home Run! Bases are loaded!”
The buzzer rings. “It’s foul shot,” I say.
Friends: “That’s basketball!”
Then there was the most horrific mistake. I am so embarrassed to even type it.
Phrase: Leonardo da Vinci
Me: “The guy who painted the Sistine Chapel.”
Friends: “Michelangelo!”
Me: “Okay, not that guy.”
Folks, I’m a Renaissance history buff. I’m so ashamed. All I can do is AGAIN swear that I’ll never taste a drop of tequila again. Like I’ve said at so many parties before.
Published by angelawd on May 6th, 2008 tagged Just Act Normal | 4 Comments »
“There’s a little white spot on Emo Girl today…”
No kidding. My dark Little One has shown a ray of white. Rather than sitting around writing fan fiction and listening to Paramore, she actually did something with friends this weekend. Twice.
Many of you might be thinking that this is normal 17-year-old behavior, and you’d be right. But my girl is a little different…a little darker. Three years ago she was a highly intelligent and sensitive girl. She made friends with an awful group of people who chewed her up and spit her out without any self-confidence. She dumped the group after I saw her boyfriend walking down the street holding her best friend’s hand. And then she wove herself into a black cocoon. She’s been there ever since.
Imagine being seventeen and having no friends. And when I say no friends, I mean the “sitting alone in the lunchroom reading a book” kind of situation. Nobody to exchange Christmas gifts with, nobody to see a movie with her, nobody to go to Friday night’s game with her. A summer vacation spent working and lying in her room watching TV. Here’s a visual for you:
But little by little, I think I am seeing her emerge from her cocoon. She reconnected with junior high friends that avoided her when she was hanging out with a bad crowd.
And Friday night, she invited a friend over for our annual Cinco De Mayo party. It’s hard to act Mom-cool when your heart is bursting with excitement. I tried not to fawn over Amanda, who we’ve known since Elementary school.
Then Saturday night was school prom. Jenn objects to Prom for some sort of philosophical reasons, but went to the after-party at the friends house. And came home right on time. I found out that I am SO out of practice waiting up for my little lamb to return for the night. And I had also forgotten that when they come home from wherever they were, they do not want to stand in the hall and talk about it with you. Sigh.
Maybe things are lightening up for my Little One. Maybe the worst is over. Maybe she’s finally healing. Oh, I keep praying that it is true.
Published by angelawd on May 5th, 2008 tagged Mom of Teens | 6 Comments »
Go With God, Immigrant
I first met her through a note on the church refrigerator: “Ana Guadeloupe. Brought to the shelter by police. She doesn’t speak English and only has an El Salvador ID. Call Chicago Immigration in the morning.”
Our three a.m. shift discussed this while we made breakfast for the 94 hungry homeless people sleeping in our sanctuary. As the shift leader, I had to make the call. We didn’t actually know if she was an illegal immigrant or whether we were required to turn her over to some authority. If we called immigration, we assume she’d be flown home. We didn’t know why the police picked her up. ”Let’s talk to her and find out what’s best for her,” I said. ”We don’t have enough information to make a decision.”
A shivering, weepy young woman came up with an elderly Puerto Rican woman who translated for her. I was grateful because my small store of Spanish did not cover a lengthy conversation about her situation. And the situation was this: she was twenty-five years old, she had no family in El Salvador, and had moved to the US just a few weeks ago to live with a guy friend. She went for a walk that night and got lost, and the police picked her up on the street. I asked her if she would like to go back to her friend. The way she shook her head and looked away made me think that something happened that made the guy not a friend to her anymore. I couldn’t imagine the terrifying situation she was in now - speaking no English, carted off by police who probably didn’t know much Spanish, and left at a shelter in the middle of the night to sleep on a pallet on the floor. I’m sure she wondered what the authorities would do with her.
This girl was only a few years older than my own daughter, and seemed frozen with fear. She answered our questions in a whisper while tears slipped down her face. And I wanted to wrap her up in my arms and tell her everything was going to be all right. But how could I know that?
The problem was, the winter shelter program was ending. From now until October, the homeless could stay at a group shelter from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., but the ones who could not find a place to sleep at night will be sleeping in tents and makeshift shelters under bridges and in parks and forests.
My husband took out his list of ministries and looked for any kind of charity or agency that would help. She kept saying she wanted to go home. Did she really? Or was she thinking that was her only option - or the least scary option? I don’t know what the poverty level is like where she lived, but I knew what waited for her here - a lifetime of factory or maid work breaking down her body, a run-down apartment to call home, a bunch of kids to care for and feed and keep out of gangs.
But she wanted to go home, so we filled out a report form and contacted the shelter’s central office. These people spoke fluent Spanish and would be able to help her with the Chicago immigration. She took one last look at me and said, “Adios” and I wanted to take her home with me. We could care for her. My daughters could talk to her; they are fluent in Spanish. I could learn more Spanish and she could learn English. I remembered how to say “Go with God”, but I didn’t say it because my pronunciation would probably be wrong and she would be saying, “Que? Que?” and the beautiful compassionate moment would be ruined.
My thoughts about illegal immigrants has been formed by the illegal immigrants I have known - mostly my ex-husband’s Mexican family who were almost entirely illegal. When an amnesty program was introduced in the late 80s, I helped a couple of ex-sister-in-laws work towards citizenship, but the rest didn’t make the effort. Yet all the family members drove, bought houses, put their kids in public schools, got food stamps and welfare, and received free medical care through the health department. I don’t know if they paid taxes or not. But I’ve always objected to the illegal immigrants that receive the benefits of the system without contributing to the system.
This girl put another face on illegal immigration. I knew just a tiny bit about her story. I don’t know what drove a young lady to move to another country where she couldn’t speak the language, but I assume she was hoping for a better life. I don’t know if she would become a parasite on our system or contributing member of our society. I don’t know how to classify her within my current view.
I have no answers to the problem - if you were hoping I’d come up with something wise at the end of this post, I’m sorry to disappoint you. All I can say is my encounter with Ana won’t leave my mind. I live in a nice place, with plenty of food and so much room that I can use the extra bedroom as an office. We even have a pull-out couch. I have tons of family and friends and many contacts. I could help someone like Ana. I can’t fix the problems with immigration, and I do have trouble with people who come here illegally. But this girl had no family or friends. She had nothing but the clothes on her back and an ID card.
After she left, I sat at the table, crying. An elderly black man in shabby clothes came up to me. “Are you ok?” he said.
I wiped my eyes and said I was sad. I told him about Ana. He nodded and quietly said, “That’s the way it be sometimes.”
“It’s not supposed to be like that!” I said. “We’re not meant to live without anyone to depend on.”
He nodded again, and I saw his twisted glasses were missing one lens. “Maybe that’s why people like you and me are here.”
Published by angelawd on May 1st, 2008 tagged Daily Christianity | 6 Comments »
What’s with all the Mormons?
NOT that there’s anything wrong with this, but since I’ve been blogging I have met many many Mormons. Growing up in the rural Midwest, I kind of vaguely knew there was a religion called Mormonism but never actually met a real live one before. But the Blogosphere seems to be BLOOMING with them! And they seem to like me!
Is there something about my blog that attracts Mormons?
Is there something about blogging that attracts Mormons?
Have I just been swirling around in a Mormonful section of the Internet?
Do Mormons love me?
Just curious.
They’re all welcome here.
Published by angelawd on April 29th, 2008 tagged Just Sayin' | 7 Comments »
At least she’s not naked.
Another miracle has occurred here in Illinois, and my daughter cleaned her bedroom. Angels wept for joy. So did I. She left this note on the message board on her door:
Once she was finished cleaning, I seized the one moment that her bedroom floor was cleared to shampoo her carpets. You can see how awful it is, can’t you? And can you see the cat we bought specifically to go with this room?
She came home later and stormed up to me. “Why is my floor all wet?”
“I shampooed your carpet while you were gone.”
“That’s not fair! Why do I have to sleep in a wet room?”
“If you would stop spilling things on your floor, I wouldn’t have to shampoo the carpet,” I said, thinking this was a reasonable point, while completely forgetting the laws of logic my daughter applies to a conversation.
“I can’t help it that I spill things! What, am I being punished because I’m clumsy now?”
“Punished? I shampooed your carpet. That’s not a punishment. That’s regular household maintenance.”
She sighed and locked herself in her wet room. The room did look nice for a few hours.
Published by angelawd on April 28th, 2008 tagged Abnormal Motherhood | 14 Comments »
What you need to know before your next family gathering
1. No matter how old you are, you’ll still be called by your childhood name. My mom, Kathleen, is 65 and they still call her Kathy. One of my second cousins has had the nickname Dolly since infancy; I don’t even know her real name.
2. Gatherings are fantastic times to air out all those old stories of goofy or destructive things you’ve done as a child, particularly when there’s new blood who haven’t heard the stories yet. On my dad’s side of the family, my Aunt Bonnie never gets tired of telling about my Uncle Mike’s wedding, where I dinged a glass so hard with my spoon that I cracked a perfect circle right through it. On my mom’s side of the family, it’s the story about how I convinced the other kids to throw my cousin Shaun down the laundry chute. After we tested it with a bunch of stuffed animals.
3. That talkative uncle has gotten more talkative over time. He has new theories. New ideas about how people should be governed. If these things don’t interest you, and you can’t break in to change the subject because he has lungs that can hold a half an hour of air between breaths, you can try telling him you have stomach flu and you think you’re going to throw up. And if you see he’s pinned someone to the wall and the person is starting to look shell-shocked, be a sport and go rescue the person. They’d do it for you.
4. Prepare your spouse, children, and any friends that are tagging along. Notify them of the hot buttons in your family and the topics that should never be brought up, for fear of a shitstorm argument or the ability of said topic to make someone weep uncontrollably. Unless, of course, the reaction is going to be extremely funny, such as bringing up the word “Cool Whip” during dessert when you know your mother holds extreme views on real whipped cream, which is what every sane, true-blue American should be eating.
5. Never, NEVER tell your crazy guy cousins that your husband calls you “smoogie”.
Published by angelawd on April 24th, 2008 tagged Just Sayin' | 8 Comments »
Notes from a Funeral
One person can collect an enormous amount of possessions in a single one-bedroom apartment. It was hard to clean out my grandma’s home; we didn’t know the stories behind many of the little mementos and personal items we found. “Why on earth did she keep a shoebox full of prayer cards?” We’d ask. “Do you know any of these people? What about the rock collection? Should we save this?” At the beginning of the first day, we’d find a photo tucked into a book and everyone would come to have a look and try to identify the squinting man or the baby that grandma was holding. By the end of the second day, however, we were dumping out entire drawers of quilting material into the Goodwill bags while my aunt frantically spurred us on by shrieking, “Everything has to go! Are you sure you don’t want this end table? Why don’t you take the cats? You like cats, don’t you?”
The family trickled in through the weekend. In our hotel suite, we set up all the china and personal items that family members might want and let them pick it out. I don’t know about anyone else’s family, but this was an exercise in decision-making that can be compared to carefully picking your way through a field of half-buried landmines. With broken glass spread out between them.
Did I take too much? Did I take something that Aunt Heloise always wanted, before she had a chance to pick anything? As a granddaughter, am I entitled to select expensive things, such as her garnet jewelry? And if I take something expensive, should I take nothing else except a few crocheted doilies? At the same time we were all were asking ourselves these questions, my Aunt kept threatening to throw away anything that was left behind - or donate it to a thrift shop. Should I take these things just so that strangers aren’t goggling at her embroidered placemats some day in a Salvation Army window? Are the others looking at me and thinking I’m being too greedy?
I said at the beginning of the trip that I was there to help out and work hard, not fill my car. And yet, I came home with the table and chairs we bought for Grandma six weeks ago, along with her sewing machine and a few pieces of china. Little One is crazy about the idea of making her own clothes, and although I remember my Home Ec project that was supposed to be a blouse but became a pink monstrosity of fabric that could only fit Quasimodo, by the time I got home I was seriously imagining myself happily measuring and snipping and sewing at the machine.
So we put many members of my family all in the same room, and I realized that family events magnify people’s behavior. In the case of my larger-than-life relatives, who conduct themselves with the decibels and drama of a Spanish soap opera, this meant ringing ears, lots of arm-flailing and incredible stories that have become so embellished over the years that there’s only a nugget of truth left to the whole story. This also meant heckling, sniggers and jokes during the services and burial. Conversations started out at loud and then went upward into shouting as people became animated (all except for my mother, who starts out on the “shout” setting and goes on from there). In fact, there was a bachelorette party going on in the hotel at the same time, but I felt sure that we were much more likely to be sent packing than that demure group. If I hadn’t been suffering from a bad cold and cleaning exhaustion, I would have had a great time.
While there were plenty of tears and genuine regret about losing our Therese, I think it is a more fitting tribute to her that we could laugh together. She was the Queen of Larger Than Life, with her own ways of adding giggles and drama to everyday life. And clearly this gene has been passed down through the family.
When they lowered her into the grave, I tossed a lily and all my regrets onto the coffin. I won’t hold onto my sorrow that I didn’t see her as often as I should have. I saw once again over this weekend that I have a chance to live a life with no further regrets, and I intend to fully enjoy all that I have now. The future will take care of itself.
Published by angelawd on April 23rd, 2008 tagged Healing | 8 Comments »
She’s gone.
My grandma passed away early Tuesday morning. I am so thankful that she’s no longer in any pain. I keep wondering what she is seeing now and experiencing. What is her afterlife like?
Now I really am going to Minnesota. Joe and I are staying the week to help clean out her apartment and donate things to charity.