Posts from the ‘Home and Children’ Category

Review, an Injection, and First Communion

Last week was long and filled to the brim.

On Tuesday we drove through some really nasty weather–pouring rain so hard the semis were driving at 40 miles an hour, Tessie panicked screaming she couldn’t see to drive—neither could we.

But we made it to Glen’s appointment at the VA.

Valet parking is not something I’m accustomed to doing—but in this case, if we wanted to be at his appointment close to on time, it was our only option. The VA is very organized with people in yellow slickers directing traffic and efficiently dealing with anxious paitents and spouses.

The CAT scan showed the lesion to be larger than the original lesion, the radiologist did not seem concerend—but we must now wait three months for the next scan. Waiting is one of the most difficult parts of this.

We stayed overnight in a hotel as I had an injection scheduled for the next morning. We try to schedule back to back things–so as to avoid the multiple trips to Houston.

I was pleasantly surprised to have a good experience with the injection. The radiologist was skilled, cometent, quick, and talked to me during the procedure—a vast difference from the previous one by a ‘pain management specialist’. That experence was miserable. As an Emergency Room physician for so many years, I had ample exoeruebce in managing pain and anxiety in the patient, patient family, and nursing staff—not easy but doable expecially if the technically expert with the hands so as to concentrate on the psychological aspects.

On to more pleasant subjects.

Our oldest grandson was scheduled for his First Comminion.

There were 136 children in the group, the girls dressed in lovely white dresses and head gear rainging from a band of flowers to veils. The boys were all in suits with ties; interestingly, many both boys and girls wore sneakers—- James wore polished black shoes as did his little brother.

It was an impressive ceremony, the church is immense and quite lovely with stained glass windows, and a wonderful choir.

Afterwords we adjourned to Seasons 52 for a wonderful brunch/lunch prepared by Chef Eddie.

We drove home—tired, but so glad to be home after three long days in Houston.

Magnolias and the Scent of the South

A large magnolia tree is in our back yard. It was a favorite climbing tree for my three boys as the limbs seemed to be placed perfectly to fit the lenght of their arms and legs.

Across the street was an even larger magnolia tree. It was hit by lightening and then termites set in, It is gone now with not even an indentation in the lawn to mark its former location.

I think I was too busy in those early years here to notice the lovely scent of the mganolias.

Now that I am retired, I have time to sit and enjoy the faint breeze through the open windows—the few days in which we use no heating or air conditioning. The windows are screened; a few mosquitoes manage to make their way inside—riding along the coats of our two border collies who no longer run as fast they used to—-but then neither do I.

Sometimes the small things of life are the most lasting in impressions.

The Boat

We spent last weekend at a medical conference in Austin. I usually attend these alone but this time, my husband deicded he would like to go with tme and sit in on the lecutres.

The lectures were quite varied with some controversial content, some exciting new advances but also some not very well thought out protocols.

We did not stay at the conference hotel but chose instead to stay about half a mile away.

We were delighted to find a very nice restauratn ‘The Boat’ almost literally in the hotel’s backyard. Instead of eating at a chain restaruant we had evening meals here.

It has an old diner/hippie charm to it–the food was excellent—but not cheap.

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We were pleasantly surprised to learn our oldest son—who got his PhD from UT ate att the very same restaurant during those yeara.

And Shiner was on draft—a plus in the eyes of my husband.

Chewy Rice

Now that I live in Southeast Texas, rice is a common starch in a meal. People rave about rice and gravy—I thought gravy only went on potatoes, sometimes boiiled and mashed on your plate or if your mom was ambitious and it was a holiday meal-..one of your borthers was in charge of mashing the potatoes. My moither-in-law added sour cream sometimes and butter

But rice in my in-law’s home was served as this awful rice pudding at Christmas time with an almond hidden somewhere–and the person who got tht almond opened the first gift on Christmas morning.

I thougth the custom was nice—but I soon subsituted a pecan hidden in a mound of rice intended for a large ladleful of gumbo.

Then there is fried rice. That was something I learned to make, frying the raw rice in a skillet until browned—my residency friend from India did hte same with her wonderful chicken curry dish, Our rendition of fried rice included adding onion, and bits of leftover vegetalbes and bites of meat–too large to toss but not enough for a full meal.

I still try to make rice as a starch.

I am not terribly successful.

Here is my last attempt.

As you can see the rice was not successful so i baked a biscuit instead.

That is okra and tomatoes–a very traditional southeast Texas dish—and I could eat a whole meal of it.It is from our garden last year—okra is not hard to grown, and when you have an abundance of a vegetable, it is fun to experiment. This method of cooking came from a cook in a local hospiatl who let me stand in the doorway of the kitchen while she prepared it—and talked me through it. One Thanksgiving, the grandmother of my youngest son’s wife haelped me prepare it for the meal.

the chicken is coated with a bit of mayonnaise and then rolled in stale crushed tortiall chips—and baked.

Preparing food together and trying new ways and new foods is a way we are all connected.

The rice by the way was quite tasty—cilanrto and lemon and sour cream mixed in. But it was definitely chewy.

Better luck next time.

Squares and Stripes

Yesterday I wrote about my grandmother and her favorite quilt pattern.

Somewhere in all my ‘treasures’ I have the well worn hexgon and butterfly template from HER mother. Those templates had been so well used, the heaagon no longer had equal sides but was elongated. As the pattern she used involved tiny diamons around the perimeter of each hesagon flower, I suspect she would re-draft the template. The butterfly was applique so its distorted shape was not a problem.

I think, however, my grandmother would re-cut her templates to be sure they were accurate.

And here is a box of scraps she left behind. Fifteen nine-patches were at the bottom of these carefully cut scraps. Those are sewn together and will be quilted with the end=product being another teddy bear.

But what to do with these?

I’m thinking I will put them back in the box they came from–there is another stack of rectangles to become another StarSteps to Heaven…I think they need to rest awhile before I figure out what comes next.

In the meantime I do have other projects.

Stairsteps to Heaven

My maternal grandmother was an extraordinary person and I adored being with her.

Her life was not easy living through the Dpression and World War II. She took on many jobs to keep her home, from running the town’s canningmachine during World War II, repairing sewing machines during the Depression, picking and sorting cucumbers, mowing two different cemeteries in Wisconsn summer months, rolling rags for rag rugs, and then there were her quilts.

Her favorite pattern was Stairsteps to Heaven.

She organized her scraps in a shoebox, counting the number she needed for each set of steps. Sometimes she didn’t have enough of one fabric and she would substitute a similar one—keeping in mind that nothing was wasted. Some of the rectangles are pieced to make them the proper size.

She used cardboard templates, cut from heavy boxes. When I measured those templates, they were square and precise.

I don’t know how she managed to sew it together as she certainly did not have such a thing as a design wall—perhaps she laid them out on a nearby bed as she worked.

Some of her edges are not accurate—but I think she made this one several years after a stroke limited her use of her left hand; her treadle sewing machine was converted to electric by someone—I’m not sure who—perhaps my dad did that–he was a great mechanic.

I recognize several fabrics–the white/red stripe was kitchen curtains on the fram, the blue next ot it, a dress I made for college, the maple leaf a dress of my mothers—but there are others I don’t recognize—and were no doubt scraps given to her by others.

I’m not sure I can replicate my grandmother’s sense of color and design but it is a fun quilt to study.

This quilt is now in the binding queue.