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Ghosts and Gratitude @ 01:45 pm
Current Mood: 
grateful
gratefulI shouldn't be blogging.... but, I've no idea if I'll get another chance before the big to-do tomorrow, so here goes:
I've spent the morning going over my shopping list and have begun the arduous process of cooking for Thanksgiving.
A quick side note: I was sorry to read on the SP11 blog that there have been so many complaints. I'm sure that for the hostesses, it is disheartening. I've posted on the SP11 site as well as Ravelry, but want to add here, "THANK YOU". I wouldn't have missed this for anything. While people with complaints are more apt to acknowledge their disappointment, I hope each of you realize that your kindness and hard work are appreciated. YOUR contribution in this effort becomes (became) a part of our life experience. Friendships are made, imaginations are stretched and in a very real sense, you've provided a forum that gives people the opportunity to practice genorosity, forebearance, patience and gratitude. May you each be doubly blessed for your efforts.
I'm a fussy cook. I like an immaculate kitchen before I begin and insist on scrubbing everything down. We're having around 30 for dinner, so there's a lot to cook for. Several people will bring a dish and my sister will also make several things, however, the bulk of dinner is my responsibility. I was the youngest of four, and in many ways, I was the epitome of the "baby". My sis, always the domestic one, was the "victim" of me and my two older brothers. Dripping sarcasm, we'd call her "MOTHER" in the most annoying fashion as she attempted to clean up after us. This frequently resulted in her calling my Mother at work to report us for our stubborn attempts to thwart her finishing her never-ending chores. Mom would make each of us get on the phone as she chastised us for being a hindrance, rather than a help. Under threats of punishment, our behavior would improve slightly before we regressed to our former lazy selves. I also realized that the more you knew how to do, the more you MIGHT be expected to do. So, I practiced uselessness. AH! In this I found my natural gift.
Regarding the needs of my household, I went through my teens with reckless abandon. I wheedled and complained whenever I was required to clean, and cooking was quite beneath me. So how did I become the family cook?
It's true, folks. Necessity is the mother of invention. Moving out on my own, I embraced my freedom like a hooker on holiday. Having taken the benefits of living at home completely for granted, I spent the first two months eating fast food and peanut butter. Oh, and here was my idea of cooking: I would go to the store and buy a can of Spaghetti-o's and a jar of Ragu spaghetti sauce. I'd rinse the spaghetti-o's of the sauce they came in (which I thought was yucky) pour on the Ragu and heat. Ah, what a feast. I wasn't stupid. I knew how to boil spaghetti, but my path seemed easiest. Finally after weeks of this dubious diet, I called Mom one afternoon and asked, "How do you make a meatloaf?" She seemed amused (and a bit relieved to hear me finally acknowledge a desire to cook) and she gave me a list of ingredients. It seemed like an adventure to go to the store. Mom never had a written recipe for her meatloaf....but she described how she made it. Late that night, I sat down to my first meatloaf. (No sides -- just the meatloaf.) After weeks of bad food, it tasted better than any I had ever had before. It was the BEGINNING of an epiphany. It took many similar lessons, successes and failures for me to find out this:
BEING USELESS IS BORING.
Tomorrow would have been my Grams 99th birthday. She passed away at 94, but I'm glad to say that as an adult I would sit with her and admire her worn hands. She was the quintessential grandma. Her hands were always busy with cooking, sewing, and cleaning for her family. She served. While I resisted learning as a youngster, she taught me a lot in my adult years. Her sisters, or the "old guard" as I liked to call them, all knew their way around a kitchen and I picked up a few tidbits there, as well.
As I cook for the next two days, I'll have the company of a lot of ghosts. They'll remind me to poke, not stir the dumplings. The smell of celery and onions frying will remind me of my Dad and the wonderful stuffing he made while he cajoled us about not wanting giblets included in our meal. My brother Gregg, will remind me that lumps in the custard make it the way he likes it. And tomorrow, too exhausted and tired of the smell of Thanksgiving to want to eat, I'll watch my family swoop in on the feast. I'll enjoy the exclaims of my nephew Jeff when he says (again), "You found the white sweet potatoes, they're my favorite." My brother, Gary, will, with gratitude, say that like my Dad, he prefers the slider style dumplings over the fluffy ones. Each person will have their favorite dish and more than once, someone will say that it is impossible to try everything. It's a rerun and I never tire of it. Being useful is a lot of work but it feels great to be a part of an old tradition. I'm a link in the chain of people that served our family and kept this tradition alive. Some were better than others but they've all provided the foundation I build upon. Exhausted, I'll bow my head as we pray and thank God, I made it through another Thanksgiving. I'll thank Him, too, for the ghosts that haunt my kitchen and for giving me the grace and desire to be useful.
Happy Thanksgiving.
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