Time out for the Moon

The Moon was beginning to rise as I was walking out of the store this evening. I had my medication in hand, and was not feeling well when I happened on a young woman who had dropped a bundle of papers.  She looked up at me bewildered, “It’s been like this all day.”

I went over to help her pick up her papers, not caring that we were in the middle of a busy parking lot, in danger of being run over in the dark.  I understood; my day had been the same. 

Thanksgiving and Black Friday were over.  The holidays had worked a number on me.  I was exhausted.  Saturday night I had struggled to keep my eyes open during the movie Lincoln.  Shamefully I admitted this to my SIO.  I had talked about going for months and he had carefully planned the evening around my other obligation just so he could take me to the movie. 

Yesterday a family member had a major health episode which threw us all into a tailspin, once again pulling on my reserve energy.  This morning at the office I found myself feeling extremely weak.  Giving up, I called my doctor and made an appointment. 

Sure enough I was sick: Contagious too.  He wanted me on antibiotics and out of commission for 2 days.  “Ha- you do stand - up comedy in your other job don’t you?”  He knows my life.  The only time I stop running is in the office and while there, it’s not a calm job by any means. He laughed as he wrote prescriptions.

The young woman and I silently picked up her papers, stood up together and as she started to speak I quickly interrupted “Look,” I said pointing, “It’s the Moon playing peek-a-boo. Isn’t it beautiful?”  I turned and walked away before she could say anything.  Dumbstruck, she stood there looking at the Moon now floating freely above the clouds, carefree and smiling at her.

Getting in my car, I too looked back up at the Moon, feeling a little better, it was the best thing I had seen and felt all day.  It was time well spent looking at that beautiful Moon, freeing me from the worries of the day and the stress of not feeling well.  I hope the young woman felt it too. It’s contagious you know.

Peace.

NEPB

It's All in the Stuffing

It’s the Wednesday before Thanksgiving: Time to gather around table and stuff yourself.   

Stuffing:  is there a more talked about subject surrounding the entire meal of Thanksgiving?  Every family has its traditions: Cornbread, Oyster, Giblet, Sausage and many other varieties.

My own family recipe began; well I can’t exactly remember when it began.  I just remember being a small girl, with my Dad tearing up toasted bread and chopping onion till my eyes watered.  We would make a huge mess and goof around making my Mother roll her eyes and tell us we were “too loud”.

 Daddy and I were always too loud while making stuffing, singing goofy songs, making messes, and general  disorderly conduct in the kitchen.  As I grew older, we began to discuss loudly how the onion and celery should be chopped.  I said small.  He said large.  Somewhere during my high school years, during a particularly silly stuffing making session, a new ingredient was added to the family recipe.  Vernors Ginger Ale.

 At that time in the 70’s Vernors was not available in our part of Virginia.  My parents had brought it back from their trip to see my grandparents in Detroit as they did every October.  My brothers and I regarded it as liquid gold. We fought over every bottle. To now be pouring into the stuffing was unheard of!  Tasting the stuffing, Daddy and I realized we had created something new and wondrous. 

The extra bite of strong ginger and sweetness added a new layer of favor to our old favorite.  Something we had never thought of before.  A new tradition was born.  We continued this for years,  hoarding the Vernors away every October until finally it was distributed  in Virginia.  When my oldest daughter began to help with the making of the stuffing she would first ask “ Did you get the Vernors?”  Priorities:  The world as we know it might end if there were no Vernors to add to the stuffing.

This year marks 3 years now that we have been without my dear Dad. My daughter and I will be in Mom’s kitchen making the traditional stuffing as if my Dad were right there with us.  His name will come up many times in our conversation.  “What did he put in next?”  and “ Remember when he wanted to add carrots and we protested?”  We will talk and laugh our way through the preparation, using Daddy’s time warn recipe for a successful stuffing . 

 The Vernors will provide the sweetness, the tears will provide the salt:  All of it the stuff of memories.

May your Thanksgiving stuffing be full of good memories.

Peace.

NEPB