Small Towns

Today, we laid to rest another cousin; a good, hard working man who loved Jesus and raised good kids.  Mom, my uncle Tom, and I traveled to western Oklahoma to the small town of Harmon, and when I say small, I mean small.  Do you remember the song Midnight Girl by The Sweethearts of the Rodeo?

And there is one stop light blinking on and off

Everyone knows when the neighbors cough

They roll up the streets when the sun goes down

Harmon is smaller than that.  No stop light.  Blink your eyes and you'll miss the whole town.  When my cousin sent me the information about the service I asked which church it would be in - there's only one church in Harmon.  I believe it is now considered an unincorporated community.  Grandpa Homer once owned a mechanic shop in Harmon and his brother, Daniel, owned a boot shop in the area.  Many of my family are buried in the local cemetery or one of the cemeteries in nearby towns.  Sometimes, it seems like cemeteries are all that's left of some small towns.  It's sad that so many small towns seem to be dying, literally and figuratively, right before our eyes, as the young people leave for other opportunities.  Bright lights, big city, here I come!  As the Sweethearts said,

It never even entered their minds

I might not want to stay

But I'm young, I've still got time

I've got to get away

I love to travel through small towns and see the remnants of their heydays and imagine how it looked in its prime.  I often imagine having endless wealth and using it to rejuvenate small towns.  I used to always drive on road trips, but I've learned over the years that if I ride and let someone else drive, I can take pictures along the way!  Here's a few pics from our travels today:

This is a corner store, or what's left of it, in Canton, OK.  Newspapers cover the windows and doors, and the mural is fading. 

This is a store front in Vici, OK - it is pronounced Vie-sie, not Vicky.  No k, see?  It's a grammatical difference in Oklahoma.  I am sure it's in an Okie dictionary or an encyclopedia of how to pronounce the names of towns in Oklahoma.  I love these painted patchwork squares; it's so quaint and makes me imagine a bunch of grandmas and great-aunts sitting around stitching and talking and laughing.  There was also an American Flag patchwork painted on the side of a building on the east side of town.  Speaking of quilts, have you ever read any of the Quilter's Series by Jennifer Chiaverini?  I highly recommend them.

Look at the detail on this hot plate!  Cross stitch and weaving!  What?!

Check out these handmade hotplates!  I love these because they are unique and I know that someone put in a lot of time to make them.  Sometimes, when you are in a larger community, small details like this can get lost.  Instead of handmade hotplates, someone buys some generic ones at Walmart.  Grandma Lois had some similar to these.  If you have never made a piece of art by hand, let me assure you that a lot of time and hard work goes into each piece.  It's also a good way to slow yourself down and focus on one thing that you can control and not worry about everything that you can't.  I started doing cross stitch to help relieve stress and it works!  A lot of love goes into those stitches!

And this is the food that a group of small town ladies fixed for the very large group of family!  And I didn't even get a picture of all the desserts!  Someone made an angel food cake with a maple frosting that was good enough to make you pass out from sheer bliss.  This plate of food was probably only about half of what they made - I simply ran out of room on my plate. 

P.S.  See the bowl of BBQ sausage links and beans?  It made me think about pork-n-beans and every time I think about pork-n-beans I think about Steel Magnolias and I imagine Miss Clairee shopping with Ouiser and as she loads numerous cans of pork-n-beans into the shopping cart she says, "Drum loves poke-n-beans.  He eats 'em with everaythang."  Use your best southern drawl as you read that; it will make more sense, and ignore the fact that I just used an excruciatingly long run-on sentence.

Also, over the course of lunch we discovered that one of the ladies is a relative from the other side of the family!  Her great-grandfather and mine were brothers!  These are the things you learn when you love genealogy and history!  It is a small world, at least it is around Harmon, OK.

On our way out of town, we decided to stop and try to find Grandma and Grandpa's original homestead.  We turned north off the highway onto an old dirt road and drove a little more than half a mile, and as we drove past a brick home Mom said she thought that was the property.  We pulled up to the gate of a pasture and could see a small, dilapidated square building with a pyramid style roof and thought that might be it.  I walked up to the front door of the brick house and rang the doorbell.  The older woman who answered the door invited me right in and I told her who I was and what I was looking for.  She wasn't sure if that building was it or not, but her husband came in and sure enough, we had found it.  His name was Flakey Wilson and he said they bought the property from Guy Douglas who bought it from Homer Hixson, my grandpa.  He said the house originally sat across the road and up the hill, but he had moved it a few years after they bought the property.  Their oldest son was also born in that tiny house.  He offered to drive me around to the house, so I climbed into his Towncar and off we went, with Mom and Tom following.  Flakey told me they owned about 1,000 acres and that his health had not allowed him to keep up with it the way he wanted.  Five years ago he had an experimental heart procedure that had been amazing, but he is getting older and keeping up with the property like he had in the past is getting harder.  We drove across a cattle guard and past farm equipment and around a barn and found the small structure.

Looking at it now, it's hard to believe that someone ever lived in it.  On the left side of the house are what's left of the red shingles Grandma and Grandpa put on the house.  They lived in it from 1943 - 1947.  I traipsed around, trying to avoid the cow patties, and took as many pictures as I could.  You should also know that there had been a skunk in there and when I got to the south side of the house, I dang near threw up from the smell.  You should also know that I did not avoid all of the cow patties and ended up with a nice smashed patty and a decent amount of grass on my left boot.  Then Flakey drove me up the road to the top of the hill to show me where the house originally sat.

This was the view Grandma and Grandpa had every day when they woke up - minus the windmills, of course.  And there were probably fewer trees.  Dang those cedar trees!  But, wow.  Just wow.  Oklahoma is an absolutely breathtaking sight to see!  God did good when He made Oklahoma!

Flakey said you could see for 13 miles from where the house sat on the top of the hill.  It's too small to see in the picture, but the Vici, not Vicky, (we're all going to know that Vicky is incorrect before I'm finished here) grain elevator could be seen in the distance.

This is the well where they pumped water; it sat on the east side of the house.

This is what is left of a tank that held carbide gas.  Flakey said you could buy the gas in Vici (remember Vie-sie, not Vicky) and it was used as a heating fuel.  Tom and I had never heard of carbide gas before, and I was sure that Tom knew of pretty much everything farm related.  I guess we can all still learn something new every day.

I absolutely love to see elevators like this!  For the non-rural folks, this is a storage facility for grain or other crops before it gets sent to a processing plant to become the bread that you eat.  This one is in Canton, OK and is small compared to others I've seen.  There are some monster elevators east of Enid, OK on US412, if you ever want to see some.

This elevator in Vici (not Vicky) is a little bit bigger.  They are just beautiful and amazing to look at.

This last one is in Okeene and it's the largest of the three.  The top photo gives a little perspective of how large the facility is; all three of the large structures are part of the site.  These elevators are just majestic!  I cannot tell you how much I LOVE looking at them!

And now, here I am at the end of the day thinking about my family and the days they have before them as they pick up the pieces and move forward.  My own dad has been gone for 33 years now, and there are still tough days.  I am all too familiar with the road they will have to walk.  Our loved ones are now memories, just like the heydays of little towns along a loud, bumpy old highway in Oklahoma.  But, we can share those memories proudly like the painted patchworks on an old store front, hold on to them even as time fades the colors, trust that they are woven into our lives with strong, loving stitches, move them with us from one place to the next, and rise up majestically against the elements like an old grain elevator in the middle of nowhere and we will stand the test of time.  We will carry on and be here for the next generation to look to and someday, they will say the same about us.

Carmichael's Pumpkin Patch

On Saturday I took the boy and Nana Lana to Bixby to Carmichael's Pumpkin Patch - the one I wrote about a couple of weeks ago. 

It was a beautiful fall morning when we got there about 10am with a light, cool breeze. They had a petting zoo, butterfly house, live carousel, camel rides, corn maze, dark maze, a hayride, and PUMPKINS!

Look at all of them! And this is just a small section of them! They were everywhere!

Look at all of the colors and textures. Some of them look like they're covered in barnacles. 

And these? I'm not sure what happened here. It looks like a regular pumpkin and a green gourd got together and had a baby. But, they're pretty and interesting to look at, nonetheless. 

I call these ghost pumpkins. It looks like Bunnicula has been here. Yes, Bunnicula is a real word and a real literary character. Your childhood must have sucked if you never read the books. My condolences. 

There were scarecrows...

and bushels of corn stalks,

and butterflies! They had a large mesh tent and gave us Q-tips with "butterfly food" that I'm guessing was mushed up apple pulp. I don't know. I'm not a butterfly wrangler, so I'm just guessing.  We held our Q-tips down by their feet and then they would climb on. We held them on our fingers and held them up so they could latch onto the mesh walls. 

Rocco was a natural!  Like a butterfly whisperer or a butterfly cowboy!  He also got to ride one of the ponies on the live carousel and loved it. He loves animals and tries to get me to stop and buy goats every time we see one. 

Love his smiling face!

We took a hayride after that. It was short, but the boy had fun and that's really what matters. 

Then we rode a camel! This was a first for me. Not having stirrups for my feet felt a little strange, and it felt like we were 20 feet off the ground. This camel was over 7 feet tall and had quite a pungent smell. I'm going to guess that it's possibly because pee just runs down their legs and coats their hair. Disgusting. But, it was a fun ride, anyway. 

They also had a large selection of mums and Rocco had to smell all of them. 

We also got up close and personal with some llamas. Or are these alpacas? I'm not sure. I don't actually know the difference between the two. I'm not a llama or alpaca farmer. Anyhoo, the one on the right pinned its ears back and looked like it was considering spitting on us, so we walked away.  Spit...yuck. 

There were also baby pot-bellied pigs. They were shy and this was the best picture I could get. They were so tiny!  The rabbits were also uncooperative and I wasn't able to get a picture of them, either. 

The water buffalo calf was quiet and sleeping, as was the porcupine, who hid in his shelter while we were there.  He smelled just as bad as he did two weeks ago. 

The owner said these are some kind of African goat. We saw them a couple of weeks ago and they have the tiniest, and I mean the tiniest, legs. And the horns are sharp. Hands off. 

We had a great time and Rocco said he had a lot of fun. I don't think he stopped smiling the whole time we were there. Great memories made with two of my favorite people. If you live within reasonable driving distance of Bixby, Oklahoma, I highly recommend Carmichael's Pumpkin Patch southeast of town. It wasn't overcrowded and we didn't have to wait in line for anything. Admission is free, but you do have to pay for rides, if you want to ride them. But, they weren't expensive; I think we spent about $20 total for all three of us.  You won't be disappointed!

Conversations

After picking Rocco up from our Life Group childcare on Sunday, we weren't even out of the parking lot when he said, "I want to watch Thomas (the train) on you phone." I feel the need to clarify here that this threenager is not allowed to watch Thomas on our phones all the time. He asks - ALL THE TIME - but he is routinely told no, especially if his attitude has been threenagerish. On those occasions when he's been told that his attitude needs adjusting he will say, "I sowwy I was angwy, Mama. Can I watch Thomas on you phone now? I behaving now. I'm a happy boy," and then he smiles. He's mastered the manipulation maneuver. Still, it's the first thing he asks as soon as we get in the car. And it's not the cartoons he wants to watch. Nope, he likes to watch videos of random people showing their Thomas toys and tracks. It's in French, Chinese, or Spanish? He doesn't care. He just wants to watch people playing with their Thomas and Friends toys. I told him no and that I wanted him to tell me what he did at church that evening.

"Den I can watch Thomas on you phone?"

"Maybe. We'll talk about it. Now, tell me what you did tonight. Did you have fun? Did you play with other kids?"

He answered about four questions and then declared, "Okay, we done talking now. I need to watch Thomas on you phone now."

I'm not sure where he gets the bossiness from. I blame his father. 

A couple of days later, Nana K was taking Rocco to Chick-fil-A for lunch after school and she had turned down the wrong street. When she got to the light she told him that she didn't see the restaurant. "It's over dere. You need to turn wight and go dat way and take me to Chip-fehway, Nana K." He routinely likes to tell us where to go and how to get there. Honestly, though, he's good with directions after we've been somewhere once. He knows street names and landmarks and likes to draw maps. It's probably because he heard me giving out directions at work while he was still cooking in my belly. At least I know he'll never get lost. 

Later in the week, during his bath, he was drawing a map in the condensation on the wall, talking to himself, when suddenly he exclaimed, "Dat's da way to da White House (his preschool)! And da door is wocked! And I can't get in! It's cwosed today! And dat's not good! Miss Twaci wocked me out wiss da bwue key! And dat's not good!"

Imagine saying all of that in your sharpest tone of voice. Now stand rigidly, and for emphasis, squeeze your eyes shut tightly, throw your hands down, and jerk your legs straight at the end of each sentence. And when you're finished, give out one last long, low growl, just so we all know how disgusted you really are about your imaginary experience of being locked out of school. 

Last night we stopped at GNC and Rocco and Daddy waited for me in the car. After I got out Rocco said, "Daddy, we need to go to Atwoods."

"We have to wait on Mama first."

"No, we weave her here and we go by ourselves."

.........................hmm

One last conversational nugget came from the boy's father, aka my dude. We were coming home from dinner, having a nice drive through the country, windows down, the sweet smell that IS the country blowing in through the windows (sorry if you're not familiar with the smell, it sucks to be you), 80's country on the radio - you know, just having a nice peaceful ride while the boy watched Thomas on my phone in the back seat. We got on the highway and we were singing some old song when he blurted out, "You bought that sandpaper toilet paper again."

I won't tell you what his next sentence was, but just know that I laughed and laughed and laughed. I'll be honest, it is like sandpaper. I had forgotten that this particular jumbo roll package is somehow different than the double roll package by the same brand. Ouchy. Scratchy. Not what you want in your TP. He told me to burn the rest of the package. If you've ever read any old posts from my blog, this conversation shouldn't surprise you; toilet paper is probably a topic of conversation in our house every day. AND, AND, AND it should always roll off the top, not the bottom. Learn this, people. 

In other news, it's Friday and my husband's 25 year high school reunion is tonight. I've been awake since 4:30 am. Yay, me! The laundry has piled up again, I have homework to finish, and fall has officially begun - never mind that it was 90-some-odd degrees yesterday. But, a cold front is coming and bringing rain with it. Right now though, I think I need a nap. 

The week in pictures

A whole lot of nothing happened this week. A whole lot of nothing but normal, that is.

We worked.

We played. 

We ate. 

We slept. 

We hugged. 

We kissed. 

We went to school. 

We went for evening walks. 

We went to Bixby to buy farm fresh produce. 

Okay, so the last one was out of the ordinary. Bixby is about an hour away and I would normally buy from the Farmer's Market in Stillwater, but it's only open two mornings per week, and I had to work one of those days, and today was the OSU vs. Pitt game and I wasn't going anywhere near Stillwater because I didn't want to deal with the traffic nightmare known as Game Day. 

Rocco, Derek, and I walked most evenings this week because it was nice outside and we had the opportunity. Rocco likes to stop and draw maps to the pet store in the dirt. Our walks probably consist of a few things that city folks don't have - like rusted old whatchamacallits. 

(Side note: every time I say "city folk" I start singing the farmersonly.com song.)

And twisted old pieces of metal. 

And dust hanging in the air - the result of a passing truck and no wind. 

And gates protecting old farmhouses and arenas grown over with weeds and brush. 

And wild sunflowers growing everywhere. Stopping for a quick sniff is the rule when you're three years old. 

And wide open sunsets. 

And cows. Mooooooo!

I may have to print that last picture on canvas and hang it up in our house. It's moooootyful! Get it? Never mind. 

And a dead calf laying in the ditch that stunk to high heaven. No photo included because, well, it was just nasty. No one wants to see that. I dry heaved for several minutes when I saw it, more because of the stench than the sight, though. It wasn't the worst I've ever smelled (that would have been when Marilyn rolled in the sludge of a dead armadillo; I may tell that story later), but it was bad. Awful. Horrible. I'm gagging a little now just thinking about it. I don't know what happened to that poor little white calf, but he was DRT (dead right there - it's a technical Okie term). You're welcome for not taking a picture of it. Our friendship can remain in tact. 

For the end of the week Rocco, Nana Lana, and I took a little drive to Bixby for some fresh produce and they had pumpkins!

And twisty gourds!

And a gigantic turtle!

And a baby water buffalo!

And the man who I assume is the owner based on his apparent age, knowledge, and because he talked like he'd owned it for a long, long time told us about their free pumpkin patch that opens next weekend. We drove down to the patch so we'd know where it was and we saw this magnificent barn. 

Isn't she beautiful? Beauty-full? I stood outside the fence to admire her and the empty, uncovered silos. I love old barns. LOVE THEM! LOVE, LOVE, LOVE THEM! Did I say that I LOVE them? I usually stop to take pictures when I see one that I think my Aunt Eileen would enjoy sketching. I haven't sent her this picture yet; I want to see if she reads this or not. 😉 

On the way home Rocco fell asleep 15 minutes from home. Boo on that. This necessitated a little backroad driving to let him sleep a little longer. Backroads never disappoint. This is a sign in the neighboring county, about half a mile north of our house. 

Either someone was really po'd at that sign or it has a bad case of teen acne. I'm not sure why there's even a speed limit sign on this road; most of the time it's rutted out and if you drove 40 mph you'd probably lose your transmission. And the traffic is minimal and there are no houses on that road. But, I digress.  

This is a county road about 3 miles from our house. I'm going to venture a guess that it doesn't get a lot of traffic. 

In other news, we have five kittens that will be going to new homes in the next few days. I took them for their first shots this morning and came home and gave them worm-preventer like a pro. I pinned those babies down and shoved that goop down their throats. Okay, maybe it wasn't quite like that, but I did "git-r-done" like a pro. I guess learning how to worm animals when I was little came in handy today. I even managed to get some in the mama kitty - her name is Hocat. That's another story for another day. She didn't like the medicine and thought about throwing a royal fit, but I had the last word of the argument. This is Sam (the only boy), Queenie (short for Queenie Peavy from the book by Robert Burch), Tabby (short for Tabitha), Grayton, and Honey.

They were all conked out until Hocat came back with a dead mouse in her mouth. There was a sixth kitten, Callie (the calico), and she was the sweetest of the bunch, very calm and snuggly, and she had the prettiest little face. She disappeared one day and we don't know if she was attacked by a predator or was stolen. We have been very sad about it and Rocco makes up stories about where he thinks she is and what she's doing. Today he said she was in Tulsa. That little Callie cat gets around, according to him. 

And that's our week in a nutshell. My second college course starts this week and it's a philosophy class - lots of reading and writing - time consuming stuff. Wish me luck!

Late Bloomer

A few weeks ago something HUGE happened in my life; something that I had begun to think would never happen, and then when it did happen, it happened very quickly, literally in a matter of days.

I have started my college career!

After being out of school for 21 years, I finally made the leap!  I took concurrent enrollment my senior year of high school, enrolled for the following fall semester, then made some decisions that lead me to another state 1,400 miles away for the next year, and I left school behind, intending to come back and get my degree a few years down the road.  Well, I did come back to Oklahoma, but the education that I thought was on hold began to slip further and further away.  I applied and was accepted again a couple of years later, but life got in the way and it didn’t happen.  About 5 or 6 years later, online education was becoming more mainstream and widely available, but when I looked into it, the enrollment counselor scared me off because she told me I would have to come up with almost $5,000 per semester that would not qualify for any kind of student aid or loan.  Screw that.  I didn’t have an extra $5,000 laying around for one semester’s worth of knowledge.  At that point, knowing what my schedule was with shift work, I put my education on the back burner, almost resigning myself to the fact that it wasn’t going to happen.  There was no way my schedule would allow for me to attend college on-campus and now it sounded like pursuing it online was also out of reach.

Fast forward 10 or 12 years to July 2016.  I’m now almost 40, married, have a preschooler who attends school 30 minutes away, still working shift work, and now commuting 100 miles every day.  Life is busy, busy, busy.  And I’m exhausted.  I’m more than exhausted.  Is there a term for that?  “Exhaustified,” to borrow from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women.  I still revisited the idea of going back to school over the years, but it just never got off the ground and I couldn’t figure out how to make it work.  But, I’ve never lost the desire to get my education.  I was having a bit of an emotionally rough summer and, like most moms, felt like I’m never a priority for anyone, including myself.  I began evaluating my life and for the first time when I thought about going back to school, I didn’t feel scared.  I felt no hesitation.  This time was different.  I felt energized.  This time felt like it was the right time and working out the cost and financial aid didn’t even faze me.  My dude and I discussed it (he’s wanted me to go to college for years) and I did some research, then requested information from 4 or 5 schools, but felt like I was really drawn to one in particular.  Less than 10 days later I was enrolled and my financial aid was completely squared away.  I was on my way to a college degree!

I’m going to be real honest with you – not having my college degree has made me feel like a failure for my entire adult life.  I’m not saying that if you don’t have one that you’re a failure; not everyone is made for college.  Some people don’t want it, don’t like it, and don’t want to be a part of it.  And that’s absolutely fine; the world takes all kinds of people finding success in different avenues to make it go ‘round.  My Grandpa Homer only had an 8^th grade education and he was one of the smartest, kindest, most resourceful, well respected, and successful people I’ve ever known.  But, when you know in your heart of hearts that you were meant to have a college education and you don’t have one, you feel like a failure.  I've achieved success in other ways, but not earning my degree has felt like a constant stain on my life, a never ending nagging at the back of my mind.  Other people had fully expected me to go to college, too, and I could see the disappointment in their eyes when they found out I hadn’t gone.  I’m not saying you should go to college to please other people, but for me, knowing that I had disappointed some people reinforced my feelings of failure.  But, not anymore!  I am as giddy as a school girl!  See what I did there?  Punny?  Nevermind.  I feel more fulfilled as a human being with a brain than I have felt in, well, I’m not sure, but a very long time!  I’ve been fulfilled by motherhood and marriage and family, but this is different.  This is for me, for my brain, my life, just for me, and it’s been a very long time since I did something that was just for me.  Oh, sure, my family will benefit from me having a college education, but I’m talking about what’s on the inside of me.  I’m talking about deep, personal fulfillment and satisfaction that puts a smile on my face and a spring in my step.  I feel like I’m doing something that I was created to do and it’s so mentally stimulating to be using my brain in an educational setting again and I am having so much fun!  I think my Dad would be proud if he were here, at least I hope he would.  Of course, if he were still alive my life would have probably taken a completely different course and that's a discussion for another day.  I know that the next four years will be busy and exhausting and exciting and intellectually fulfilling, and when it’s all said and done, this late bloomer is going to have her degree and do her best endzone dance!

P.S.  Say a prayer for me!

Our Baby Started School

As the title so aptly indicates, our baby started school this week. I need a half happy, half sad faced emoticon to enter here. 

"He's only two! How can he be in school?" you ask. 

Technically, it's a Mother's Day Out program that is only two half-days per week, but it is a structured learning environment and it is held at a private Christian school. And my baby leaves me twice a week to go learn something and develop his social skills - and that qualifies as school in my book. We got our first book fair catalog today and we have days that we have to bring healthy snacks for the entire class - more indicators that this is, in fact, school. And on the snacks note - in these modern times they eat healthy snacks, no cupcakes and candy like we had when I was a kid. If I were Rocco I would be bummed about that. Sweets are saved for special events like birthday parties. Blah. Bring on the cake!

Days 1 and 2 went pretty much as expected - Mom pretended to not have anxiety all the way there and the boy had a meltdown as soon as he figured out that Mom and Nana would not be staying to learn and play with him. I usually give him 2-5 minutes of adjustment time, tell him I love him, smile and tell him how much fun he's going to have, then slink out the door like a troll while my baby screams my name. I do not stop at the end of the hallway to see if he will stop crying. I do not want to hear my baby wailing for me from down the hall. I just go to the car and then find something to do to keep myself busy for the next three hours. The school is about 35 minutes from our house, so it doesn't really make sense to drive back home and then come back to get him. Today, I detailed my car, which my dude said was dumb because as soon as I drive home tonight it will be dirty again. Maybe so, but I can pretend to be fancy with a shiny, clean, freshly Armor All-ed princess carriage for a few short hours. Excuse me as I straighten my tiara and show off my yoga pants. 

The boy and I are both adjusting to this new lifestyle. I know that this is an important step for him and it's good for him. The teachers said his meltdowns have lasted about 30 minutes, but then he's fine. He was actually sitting still and paying attention to story time when we picked him up. Yay!! I know someone whose child (like Rocco) has never gone to daycare, and now he's in Pre-K and is struggling because he doesn't have any social skills. I don't want that to be our boy. I'd rather overcome this hurdle now, when he's two, than to wait until he's four or five and the problem be bigger and harder to overcome. So, we're both toughing it out. However, he was quite peeved with me when I picked him up the first day. No kisses. No hugs. No holding my hand. An emphatic, "NO!" as he pulled away and gave me the stink eye was all I got. Hello, attitude. 

One bummer about school is that it interrupts our mornings with PBS. Tragically, I missed Dinosaur Train, Signing Time, Peg + Cat, and Thomas & Friends. However, I am still randomly singing all of the theme songs. Sometimes in my head. Sometimes out loud. #PBSrocks

My holiday confession

I have a holiday confession to make. 

Any guesses as to what it might be? Or what it might be about?

Food. It's about food. What else would it be about? I love food. My gut and rear, not so much. But, here it is:

I DON'T LIKE TURKEY! 

That's right, I don't like turkey, not even a little bit. I don't like the smell of it, either. I also don't like turkey gravy, aka brown gravy, and if you try to put it on my potatoes or anything else, I will jab you with my fork (just kidding). I don't like cranberry sauce or cranberry relish. I don't like pumpkin pie and I don't like pecan pie. I don't like caramel and I'm not a fan of chocolate sauce. I don't like sweet potatoe casserole or anything with marshmallows in it, either. And don't even get me started on all of the holiday "salads" like macaroni or potato. 

Do you hate me? Do I sound like a picky, spoiled five year old brat? Does all of that sound un-American? Don't worry your pretty little head, I still bleed red, white, and blue. I promise. 

The last Thanksgiving that my dad was alive he wanted to have shrimp. So, we did. I remember that holiday specifically because of the shrimp. We had all of the other traditional foods that year, but we also had shrimp, peel and eat, if I remember correctly. I don't like shrimp, either, by the way. It was at my Great Grandma's house in Blackwell, as always, and I can still see her and my Grandma Betty and Great Aunt Cora standing in the kitchen, lined up and cooking away. I loved that kitchen. There was a little banquette at one end with a booth instead of chairs, which I thought was awesome because it was like eating at a restaurant and since we didn't have anything like that at home, I was always enamored with it. I liked to slide in one side and then scoot around to the middle of the seat - not the end, I didn't want to sit on the end. Now, I would feel claustrophobic and die a slow and painful death if I had to sit on the inside of the booth. 

I usually never say anything about the holiday traditionals that I don't care for. I just eat them and tell myself I'm eating a  hamburger and onion rings. Everyone else loves all of the food that I think is gross, and since I'm the minority, I just eat what's put in front of me - especially if someone else cooked it. I am not so rude that I would dare criticize what someone else worked hard to prepare. And I will continue to do that. And to clarify the whole turkey issue, I do like shaved turkey breast sandwiches. I don't like thick pieces of turkey (or ham, which is a whole other issue) and I don't like dark meat at all - not even on chicken, except for the leg, which I grew up eating as the "kid's piece" and I don't consider it dark meat because the leg is an island unto itself and calling it dark meat would mess up my OCD brain. Just roll with it, humor me, and repeat after me, "The leg is not dark meat."  Thank you.

Here's what my dream holiday meal would consist of:

Steak, preferably sirloin or filet, medium well

Potatoes, cooked pretty much any way you want except in a potato salad

Green beans, sautéed or in a casserole

Broccoli rice casserole

Carrots, with brown sugar and salt

Rolls or bread of any kind, hot and with butter, or better yet, with honey butter

Asparagus, with hollandaise sauce

Stuffing

Little smokies or smoked sausage with BBQ sauce (it's an Okie fave)

Dip trays!!! A smorgasbord of dips, veggies, crackers, and cheese! Screw the turkey! I could make my entire meal out of these! Except hummus, which tastes like dirt. 

Cheesecake

Cherry pie

Pistachio pudding, the one thing I will eat marshmallows in

Chocolate chip cookies, my Mama's recipe, please

Creme brûlée

The problem is that most of what's on that list are routinely eaten in our house and during the holidays, everyone wants something special. I'm not like that. I love to have variety in my diet and try new foods, but I think it's people that make the holiday (and every day, for that matter) special. Yes, the food is special, but the focus should be on people and not so much on the food. I'd rather have burgers and fries (or BBQ!) and have everyone together and laughing and playing games than to have a few people spending two days in the kitchen preparing for the "big meal" while a few people are in front of the TV and a few others are napping and the kids are left to their own devices. I love having the whole family around and everyone making a big batch of chocolate chip cookies or doing a huge puzzle together or playing board games or just sitting at the table to chat. That's much more my speed as opposed to the stress of getting the one big meal "right".

So, when you see me eating turkey (or ham) and looking like my mind is somewhere else, it is - I am dreaming about beef.

P.S. I always miss my Aunt Virgie during the holidays. She always made the season special and made each of us feel loved, even when she gave me bras and panties for Christmas in front of all the males in the family.