Food and Loving

I've been away from the computer again for awhile.  Trying to get the hang of my new school year and parenting a teenager.  I've been trying to think of just the right post and I finally hit on it tonight.

I have looked for and tried some new recipes lately, some things that would be tasty and quick to make, some quintessential American food for Sam to try.  I have had some wins and more losses in my quest for yummy food for the fam. 

When deciding what to make for the week, I pulled out my family cookbook that my mom and I put together several years ago with recipes that our extended family offered.  As a good Southern girl, I love making memories with food.

Immediately I was drawn into the memories that either the contributors or the recipes themselves brought to mind.  I decided on my grandmother's shrimp casserole and my cousin's chicken enchiladas this week.

My grandparents and my cousins have always been such an important part of my life.  Since my grandparents have left this world for a better one, I don't get to see my cousins very much..our lives don't intersect as often as they should. 

As I made the shrimp casserole last night, I drifted off to memories of my grandmother, holidays and the times I had made this casserole before.  My grandmother was a very gracious, lovely Southern lady.  I can still hear the distinctive way her drawl lilted out my name when she called me.  No one says my name the way Nonnie did.  Normally when a person says my name, it sounds kinda bitchy.  And more often than not, my friends call me Raynsford instead of Heather anyway, so hearing my grandmother call my name from the past made the casserole taste that much better to me.

Last night I made it for Sam, Brian and my brother-in-law, Eric.  A simple casserole, easy to make and very tasty.  I trusted what I knew to be a good meal, and it was excellent.  And it makes great leftovers.

Tonight I went for the chicken enchiladas.  Sam still hasn't had Mexican food...I know, I know, my parental rights as a Texan may be revoked any minute for just admitting that she has been with us for a month and she still has not tasted the manna from Heaven that is Tex Mex.  But, Brian is not a huge fan (my adorable Yankee husband, you know) and we try not to eat out more than once a week. 

So, I opened the Howe Family Cookbook again and turned to Kristy's page for the enchiladas.  Another easy recipe.  More great memories of my sweet cousin.  She and Brian regularly trade good natured barbs at family functions and it is always fun to watch.  When they really get going, get your popcorn.  And as Sam has been playing tricks on Brian recently, Kristy is quite pleased. 

When I pulled the enchiladas out of the oven and they looked so tasty, I had to laugh at myself.  Here I have been looking all over the internet for great recipes, when the best ones have been in a book on my shelf for years. 

I can't wait to pick more for next week.  No guess work needed, no fingers crossed that it will taste good.  The family recipes will remind me of the love that surrounds me and make great lunches the next day. 

A New Chapter

Today, Brian and I add a new chapter to our story.  We become parents...at least for a few months.

Today, Samantha, our teenage exchange student from Australia, arrives.  She will be with us until January.  I am pretty excited.  And intimidated.  And elated.  And a little bit scared.

Sam is a beautiful young woman who will attend one of our local high schools.  As her mom reassured me, she is not interested in boyfriends, but let me assure you that the boys at her high school will be trying to change her mind!  Brian may have to start cleaning his guns on an even more regular basis.

Add to that the simple fact that Brian and I are accustomed to living a pretty selfish life.  If we don't feel like cooking, we don't.  If we feel like going to have a drink downtown, we do, either together or separately with friends.  We leave for work when we please and we stay as late as we want ( or as long as the dogs' bladders can hang on.)

We haven't had to consider someone else's needs besides our own, beyond babying our pets.  I think this experience will grow us up...fast!  I am grateful for the experience, and pretty stoked about stepping into parenting way past the diaper phase. 

I realize that teenagers present a whole new set of challenges.  Curfews, mood swings, boys, shopping, laundry.  Sam doesn't eat or drink junk, so even our eating habits will have to grow up a little bit.  We do pretty well now, but I have a feeling that we are about to get a whole lot healthier.  So we lose a few pounds and gain a beautiful daughter?  Yes, I think so!

I am amazed at Sam's courage and her parents' courage as well.  To send your 15 year old across the world to a couple that you have emailed for a week must be about the most frightening thing you could ever do.  We are honored to host her; and if you know me, you know it's been hard not to go hog wild decorating and buying her things even before she gets here.  I have restrained myself and bought her one welcome gift.  And next week I want to take her to pick out her new comforter for her bed.  And she'll probably need some curtains, too.  And maybe a new lamp.

When we have kids of our own (fingers crossed), Brian will have to put me on a VERY short financial leash or I may bankrupt us buying things! 

Sam arrives tonight at 8 pm, and our world will be in that moment, forever changed.  We can't wait!

The Line Up

Sorry I haven't been posting lately.  It's been a crazy summer, but that is nothing new.  I guess sometimes you just need a break.  I noticed that this is my 150th post, and I suppose since this is such a special day, that is very fitting. 

Three years ago today, Brian and I were married.  Since we have been together for 15 years total, it seems a little strange to say three years.  I have loved him my entire adult life.  And so much life has happened in these three little years, it seems like such a small number.  But oh so significant.

Have I ever told you how we met? 

I was a junior at TCU, working at the Blockbuster Video on W. 7th and University.  (It's a Chipotle now.)  The FW police officer working security several times a week with me thought I should meet a nice guy.  He called three of his buddies from the Gang Unit to come by for my perusal.  At first I thought he must be joking, but it wasn't long before the first pair of partners strolled in.  I thought I would die of embarrassment; what was I supposed to say to them?

They stayed for a few minutes, shooting the breeze as I was deciding how I might kill my helpful little friend and hide the body.  Then the next two called to say they were on their way.  Oh wonderful.  "One of them thinks he's seen you before," Axel told me.  This puzzled and intrigued me. 

As soon as he walked in, I realized that he had seen me before and he had not escaped my notice either.

My routine when I arrived at work was to go to the Subway in the same shopping center for a drink.  One fine day a few weeks earlier, I nearly bumped right into a handsome devil in a uniform ordering his sandwich.  I wanted to speak to him but didn't want him to think it was the uniform that did it for me, so I took my order back to work, regretting not knowing what to say.

Turns out, he would have liked to talk to me that day, too.  Go figure. 

Not wanting to turn my nose up at Fate twice, I told Axel that Brian is the one I would like to know better.  He made the necessary call, and the rest is a very long history. 

So, in a manner of speaking, I found my cop husband in a line up 15 years ago.  How's that for a little bit of irony?

Full Circle

Today was the last day of school. Whew. It has been a good year, good students, but it is time for a rest. I was honored this year that two former students sent me graduation invitations. I am always humbled that the kids remember me so many years later to send one to me because after graduating three times myself and getting married, I can tell you that invitations ain't cheap! And those kids are worrying about college odds and ends and who knows what else. To remember me during this time is a big deal. And they may realize it, and they may not. It is a sign that I actually made a difference. It is a sign that someone in that sea of little adolescent faces was listening. Heily has asked me to her AVID ceremony tomorrow to give her the medal she will wear over her graduation robe on Sunday. I am the teacher she believes made the biggest difference in her education. Way back in 6th grade. I remember her as the sweetest, most determined to succeed young woman I had ever met. You could see it in her eyes. 97 was not good enough if 98 could be had. Cody and his three best buds, three brothers, have come back often for big bear hugs over the years. And they lift me p literally off the ground and spiritually with their huge grins and their plans for the future. Tyler Junior College, TCU, and Texas Tech. A framed, signed poster from TCU hangs in my classroom. These boys were in the classes that wrote to the players that got us the poster. Now, one of the boys starts summer classes at TCU next week. And the one favor I will ask is a new signed poster to hang next to my first one. Students like these make look forward to what may be next year. Thank you, my darlings.

Downloading Excuses

Working out has not been an option for a few weeks.  My heel has hurt so badly; it felt like Thor had hit the bottom of it with his hammer.  I ignored it for as long as I could, but eventually I went back to the doctor. 

Thanks to some stretching and some steroids, the pain is almost gone.  I will shortly have to be seen in a bathing suit in public, so I need to get back on my treadmill.  Like yesterday.

I decided that I would need to walk at a higher elevation instead of running.  I have a bad feeling about running any time soon. 

And as walking will take longer, I am likely to get bored.  To try to stave off the boredom, I decided to download a tv show on my iPad as my Kindle Fire was charging. 

That sounds easier than it actually was.  On the iPad, the download was taking forever.  So I stopped that download and decided to give the laptop a try.

It has been awhile since I had been on this iTunes account. 

First there were updates to download for iTunes.  After 10 minutes ticked by, I decided I could live without the updates for tonight.  I just wanted to download something to watch while I walk!

Then I could not remember my password.  After satisfying the password moderator (you must have a capital letter, number, 8 characters long, first born child--you get the idea),I reset the password, only to have to reset security questions as well. 

I finally get to the iTunes store and pick the new pilot for that cop show starting on USA.  I click on it, and it says the download will take over an hour. 

Seriously?!  I just wanted something to keep me entertained while I walk!  While I decided what the new course of action would be, I did a few planks.  (Mine don't last very long, but I made the effort.)

So here I sit describing my cyber download adventure and an hour has gone by.  The hour I had planned to walk on the treadmill.  Sigh. 

Technology has failed me tonight (mostly) and the dependence I have on technology has definitely not escaped me.  I don't know whether to just embrace the addiction or to feel slightly ashamed and go get on the treadmill now, and suck it up with the music on my iPod. 

Probably just go fold some laundry and hope I can find a swim suit that forgives A LOT of sins this weekend.

Mother's Day

It's Mother's Day.  Happy Mother's Day to those of you lucky enough to have started your families.

It's a bit of a difficult day for me, to be honest.  It's never really bothered me before, but as Brian and I are finally, finally in a place to start a family and it hasn't been as easy as falling off a log, so to speak, I am a little emotional about it.

Oh yes, I have my dogs and my cat.  And they are quite child-like at times, but I have found as I age (more rapidly than I would like), even brilliant dogs and cats are not quite the same thing as a child of your own.

I try to stay positive.  These things do take time.  God has a plan.  I am still young (my ovaries are laughing even as I type).  I have 100 children every day at school, many of whom stay in touch and believe that I have made a significant difference in their lives.  We can always adopt.

You name the platitude, I have heard it or said it over and over to myself, little mantras to get me through the next menstrual cycle.

I used to roll my eyes at the little dresses in the department stores.  I shivered at kids throwing fits in a restaurant.  And while I do still fear the tantrum, I wouldn't mind taking my turn at handling one.  And I can't wait to have a closet full of little pink dresses...or little football helmets or whatever in the spare room closet instead of the random crap that's in there now.

I am touched but ever so slightly bothered by the fact that I was included in Mother's Day twice today.  The intention was completely pure in both cases, but I felt like such a phony.

Our minister's daughter passed out a flower to all the women in the congregation at church today.  A simple, sweet gesture. But I am not a mother.  I don't have that honor, that responsibility.  Nor can I say that I ever will.  I appreciated not being left out, but I felt like an imposter.

Then at lunch, there was free cobbler for the moms.  The waitress brought a bowl to my mother and me without even batting an eye.  And while I really wanted the cobbler, I still felt like a phony, a little dishonest.  (Don't you worry, I ate it, and it was good.)

And I know that it's silly. I know if you are reading this right now, in your mind are the same platitudes I am thinking.  Have been thinking. 

Don't worry, some day you will earn that flower and cobbler plus some. 

And you have no idea how right I hope you are. But as each month brings only another bottle of Midol, it gets more difficult to be patient.  (Still not my best virtue, even with all we've been through.)

So, here's hoping by Father's Day things will be different.  We need a new adventure.

Smells Like Sunday

This Sunday I was called back to Bridgeport for the first time since Christmas.  It's Mother's Day and the church was dedicating a memorial sidewalk to my grandparents. 

I haven't dealt well with their passing, and the only explanation I have is that we are such a close family and they were so much a part of my life that no matter how old they got, I was sure they would always be there.

I have intended to go back to church, despite the drive, several times.  I just kept thinking about the last time I had gone to church before my grandfather's passing.  My grandmother was mentioned quite often in the service; my cousins were baptizing their little girl and most of the family was there.  I couldn't make it through the service without blubbering, and I REALLY hate crying in public--happy or sad tears.  I mean, REALLY hate it.

I was amazed by all the improvements in the church since last July at Grandpa's funeral.  There is a new kitchen, back entrance, and new floors throughout the Fellowship Hall.  The fund set up in my grandparents' name helped pay for all of it.  It's beautiful.

I took a deep breath and breathed in the smell of Sunday.  I love the way that church smells.  The smell of coffee permeates the building from the kitchen to the sanctuary.  Everyone smells their Sunday best and the perfumes and colognes dance invisibly to my nose in time with the reassuring smell of the pages of the Bibles and hymnals and the wax of the candles. 

First Presbyterian of Bridgeport has smelled that way for as long as I can remember and as I sat there, once again trying not to cry, I had to smile.  We don't have my grandparents' house anymore.  We have divided their things and each member of the family has their favorite item now in their homes to remind them.  Their things are scattered hither and yon, but they, Nonnie and Grandpa, are still very much in that church. Just as they were for 60 years of their earthly lives. 

They are in the songs of what we like to call "The Last Chance Choir." They are in the stained glass and the organ.  You fully expect to see them waiting for you with a cup of coffee and a cookie in the Fellowship Hall between Sunday School and worship service. 

I never realized how much of our history is linked to that little building.  We were all baptized there.  Family weddings were there.  And, like it or not, funerals were there.  And it will go on.  And they will be there, in the bricks of the sidewalk Nonnie would be so thrilled with (no more tromping through the grass from the back door to the front), in the bulletins, in the guestbooks. 

And I have to say that I hope I can get back to the smell of Sunday a little more often, so I can find what I have missed so much.