Liam's Grandma or Maggie in Real Life

Reflections and Conversations with One's Self

Well, after a long week last week and by mid-week this week, still feeling the bite of the people around me, and after suffering from a dizzy spell all day Friday (other than my natural dizziness/airheadedness), and reading various journals on how to relax, calm down and fight stress, I had a conversation with myself this evening while preparing dinner:

Me: You are way stressed out.

Me: You think?

Me: Wait a minute.  This isn't good, this talking and answering one's self.

Me: Isn't it?

Me: I think I read somewhere that it's ok to talk to yourself but it's a bad sign when you start answering yourself.

Me: Where'd you read that? (as I continue chopping various vegetables).

Me: There I go again.

Me: You are way stressed out.

Me: You think so?

Me: I gotta stop this.

Me: Relax.  Everyone does this now and then.

Me: Really?  Like-who-everyone?

Me: I think I overheard grandma doing it.

Me: That's because grandma was crazy.

Me: Right. right.

Me: I gotta stop this.

Me: You are way stressed out.

Me: You think so?

Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Giving Thanks

  Stress-fractures etch their history in her face As the sun rises and shows its bountiful display.

The days are easier when she greets them with joy In preparation for the daily harvest - A yield that often causes her weakened frame to buckle and crack beneath the weight of the chaff.

Blinded with the onslaught of evening,  Her day's take sometimes good, sometimes bad, and Weary and groaning beneath the earthly tides, She kneels in exhaustion and bows her head Giving thanks for all there is, was, and is to come.
Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Pheromones, Sex Appeal and Romance

A few days ago, my daughter was going through a bag of lotions, conditioners and creams that her friend, Breanna, had given her.  Breanna is a hairdresser and is often giving Catherine her leftovers.  Catherine, in turn, gives me her leftovers which I usually hold onto for awhile and then toss.  Otherwise, my bathroom cupboard would be an ocean of beauty products.  And, while some might say, "but you need them, Maggie," and while I might say back, "speak for yourself," there are only so many things you can use at a time.  

The other night, I was rummaging through my cupboard looking for my hormone cream which I must tell you is fabulous.  I have just entered that menopausal phase and I don't like it.  But this hormone cream keeps hot flashes, night sweats and bad moods at bay. And, without trying to throw in a sales pitch here, I sell this hormone cream.  It is Arbonne's Phytoprolief and it has helped me tremendously.  If you'd like to try some, it normally sells for $34 but I would be happy to give a 15% discount on this item because I believe in it so strongly.  Just email me.

Anyway, I came across some lotion that Breanna had given Catherine which contained a variety of natural ingredients and was guaranteed to soften my skin, make it look and feel younger and it had pheromones in it to attract the opposite sex!  With a smile on my face, I proceeded to rub this silky smooth cream into my arms and legs, my neck and shoulders.  I dressed for bed and went and climbed in to continue reading my latest novel.  Druck was seated in a chair at the foot of the bed, watching TV and working on his laptop.  

Every now and then, I glanced up from my book to see if anything was changing in his demeanor.  Nothing.  So I held up my arm and gently blew on it, in his direction. Nothing. A minute later, I repeated the action.  Nothing.  I sighed and returned to my novel.  Less than a minute after that, I was greeted by a very pleasant, happy display of affection - from my big fat orange cat.  He bounded onto the bed and wriggled next to me, rolling onto his back, purring and rubbing his head against my leg.  "Are you kidding me?" I said, and pushed him off the bed.  Within seconds, he was back on the bed and I pushed him off again.  Not long after that, another cat of mine, who has a breathing problem, came in and jumped up on the bed, making all sorts of snorting and sucking sounds.  He sidled up to me like white on rice.  

I looked at Druck, who was engaged in chuckling at The Daily Show, set my book down and went and took a shower.  So much for romance, sex appeal and pheromones.  By the time I had washed off that feline attracting fragrance, he was in bed snoring and dreaming about politics.

Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Colloquialisms, Sayings, Wive's Tales

As I was driving in to work this morning, I was thinking about my situation at home and shouted, "Heavens to Mergatroid!"  I began to laugh because my mom used to say it and I have absolutely no idea who Mergatroid is.  Then I began to think of the many sayings my parents and grandparents used.  Here are some of them.  Next week, I'd like to post some of yours.  If you have any that you can share, please email me and I'll post them.  

Heavens to Betsy (who is Betsy?)
Who knows what the nose knows? Speak beak!
Eat the crust of the bread, honey. It'll make your hair curly.
Do as I say, not as I do.
This is gonna hurt me a lot more than it's gonna hurt you.
If I have to come in there one more time...
Don't make me come in there.
Busier than a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest.
He doesn't know his as* from a hole in the ground.
Sitting on cold concrete causes hemmorhoids.
THAT'll put hair on your chest! (like, what woman wants that??).
I'm gonna knock you into next week!
I think I need to get out my can of whoop-as*
She's jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
If I've said it once, I've said it a thousand times.
You are slower than molasses in January.
Sicker than a dog (I still don't get that one).
Lights on but nobody's home (sigh).
Everybody's doin' it, doin' it; pickin' their nose and chewin' it, chewin' it!
Nobody loves me, nobody wants me, I think I'll eat some worms. Little ones, big ones, even tiny juicy ones. I think I'll eat some worms! (egad)

Most of these came from my parents and grandparents.  Many are unprintable, especially those that came from my grandfather.  Let me know what ones you have. I'm sure I'll come up with more over the next week myself.

Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Maggie's Irresistible Beef Stew

Now, mind you, I live in a vegetarian home for various reasons - better health, ethics, etc. But occasionally, when my husband is out of town, I let my carnivorous side out and make a beef stew that I do believe is to die for. With the cold weather approaching, there's nothing like a delicious stew.  Here is my own recipe and, as I have said in my previous recipes,  I am giving you the best guess on amounts because I am one of those hippie cooks - always creating something new out of what I have, always changing recipes written by others and never following the norm in cooking with regard to measuring, use of spices, herbs, and how much, etc. Feel free to play with this a bit.  This recipe should feed a family of four.

1 1/2 pounds of good steak (NOT stew beef), washed and cubed
1 1/2 c. flour
1/4 c. vegetable oil
1 quart of beef or chicken broth PLUS 1 c. water 
1 1/2 c. baby carrots
4 stalks of celery, sliced
1 LARGE onion, chopped
3 medium potatoes, peeled and diced
4 medium or 5 small garlic cloves, chopped
2 tsp. of dried, crushed thyme leaves or flakes
SALT AND PEPPER TO TASTE - I never add this myself; I allow others to add their own salt and pepper but you could add it in as you see fit.
3 tbsp. cornstarch
1 c. water

- Place vegetable oil in Dutch oven or kettle; turn heat on low to begin warming oil.
- Place flour in a large baggie or in a bowl. If in a baggie, add 6-7 pieces of meat at a time, close bag and shake to coat. Remove meat from bag, shaking off excess flour and place in pan. If in a bowl, roll meat in bowl of flour to coat, shaking off excess flour and place in pan. Continue this until all meat is in the pan.  Turn heat to medium and brown meat lightly on sides.
- Add broth, carrots, celery, onion, garlic and thyme to pan, beginning with the broth.
- Cover and bring to a boil. Turn down to a simmer and let stew cook for about 20-25 minutes or until vegetables are tender, stirring often.
- Place cornstarch in a mug or small bowl and slowly add and stir the water into the cornstarch. Add mixture to stew at once and stir well, allowing stew to boil for another minute or so while the cornstarch thickens the broth.
- Remove from heat and enjoy!

Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Coming out of the Closet

Tuesdays are my long days at work and, because of that, mornings are a bit hectic around here.  I try to get myself up early enough to make the coffee, say my morning prayers, respond to emails and play Scramble against my sister and my boss on Facebook (talk about getting your adrenaline going first thing in the morning...they are both very good).  Usually, however, mornings rarely work out as planned because the sweet angel is already awake and yammering in his crib and as soon as his mama hears Grammy making coffee, he is brought downstairs and presented to me like a beautiful gift on a platter.  And I take him as such.  

Last Tuesday morning, I snuggled with Liam for awhile, brought him to Poppy to snuggle/play and, while they were entrenched in "boy" things, I raced around getting ready for work.  After Poppy went to get into the shower, I fed Liam his breakfast while his mama readied for work and then I finished preparing for work myself.  Almost ready, a last minute check in the mirror made me wonder where those latest wrinkles came from as I darted to the closet and frantically rummaged through the "shoe side," looking for my black heels.  

Finally, I slipped on my shoes and raced to grab my purse, keys and lunch.  As I ran through the kitchen, I noticed that I was wearing one black and one brown shoe.  I dropped my keys, purse and lunch and ran back into my bedroom where I easily slipped off the black shoe but, for some reason, the brown shoe was clinging to my heel like a man being dragged to the gallows.  When I reached down to pop off the shoe and yank my foot out, I slammed my knee into my forehead.  Hard.  My head snapped back and I saw not less than a billion silvery stars floating around my face as I fell sideways into my closet.  Breathless, a bit dazed, and watching the last star dissipate into thin air, I lay there for a moment beneath the various clothes hanging above me.  

This is not the first time this has happened, by the way (falling into the closet).  But it is the first time I waited.  Paused.  Listened to my rapid breathing and started focusing on the breathing exercises my therapist keeps telling me I must do.  I finally felt the quiet comfort of a small closed-in space as I basked in a minute of pure solitude.  

I finally understood why some people decide to stay "in the closet."  And why others come out and, after awhile, wish they'd stayed in.  The closet is a comfortable place to be, where the outside world is just that - outside of the closet.  Where the term, "coming out of the closet" originated from, I don't know, but I could guess as I lay there in comfort for that brief moment, thinking of how hectic, harsh and sometimes judgmental it was "out there."  

Reluctantly, I crawled out and felt more relaxed when I decided that the world wasn't going to gasp in shock if I didn't race out that front door like a crazy woman on fire, hop in my car and drive away like a zombie being pulled to the mother ship.  And, occasionally, that zombie has forgotten that either her purse or her cup of coffee is sitting on the roof of her car.  Thankfully, during those moments of leaving the mind back on a shelf in the kitchen, others have come to the rescue.  One time a driver in another car alerted me to my purse wobbling precariously atop the car as I pulled out of a plaza parking lot.  A few weeks ago, as I went to pull out of the Church parking lot, a woman came running at my car, yelling and waving her hands.  Perplexed and a bit fearful, I rolled down the window about a half inch and watched her reach up and hand me my Bible.  "Thank you," I said quietly, rolling the window down the rest of the way.  "I'm just a bit overwhelmed."  "I did the same thing last year," she replied, smiling knowingly. 

Yes, it's a sisterhood.  A sisterhood of women who completely understand where the other is coming from, where she's been and where she's going to.  If one of us leaves our minds behind for the day, another is there, trotting behind us to catch us when we fall, understanding our pain and our weaknesses, sharing in our joys and never judging.  I'm glad to belong to such a club.  Now where are my glasses?

Copyright 2008 liamsgrandma

Love Revisited

I had to post this one again...today Liam is 7 months old.  This is Liam and me on the bed in early morning.  What an angel he is.

 

Love is of source unknown yet it grows ever deeper. The living may die of it, by its power the dead live again. Love is not love at its fullest if one who is living is unwilling to die for it, or if it cannot restore to life one who has died. And must love that comes in dream necessarily be unreal? For there is no lack of dream lovers in this world. Only for those whose love must be fulfilled on the pillow, and for whom affection deepens only after retirement from office, is it an entirely corporeal matter.

Tang Xianzu, 1598 - Preface to The Peony Pavilion