Old men love old tractors.

That's the grandson trying it out.

Tuna Noodle Casserole

When I signed onto my blog this morning and saw the last post I made, the sight of that picture of the Better Homes and Gardens cookbook took me back to one of the simple recipes I used over and over, especially when I was working away from home all day: Tuna Noodle Casserole.  We all loved it, and I'll bet I made it almost once a week.

I should mention why I had that cookbook, though.  My sister had one.  I thought she was the best cook next to my mom and my Aunt Ruby that I knew, and I often saw that cookbook opened up on the counter when she was cooking or baking.  In later years, not so much; many of her later recipes were shared with her by others.  I'm pretty sure the cookies she makes for all her grandkids and great-grandchildren was a recipe her son's elementary teacher made for her students at some point.  Larry liked it so much, he brought home the recipe.  I have many of her recipe finds, including one she saw in the Kansas City Star on Dear Abby.  However, Abby put meringue on it.  My sister Maxine and I don't like meringue, so we put Cool Whip or whipped cream on it instead.  But I digress.

I just figured if Maxine used that cookbook, it should make me be as good a cook as she was.

Anyway:  Now that I've thought of it, I just have to make Tuna Noodle Casserole for dinner today.  It's frugal and easy, as long as you have some canned tuna in the house.  I have several of those Better Homes books from different years, and there are some variations in each.  I remember when I was working in the 80's, I often used a recipe that had me using Campbell Cream of Mushroom soup or Cheese soup for the sauce, so I could serve it quicker.

I asked Cliff how many years he thought it's been since I've made tuna noodle casserole; he had no idea.  I doubt I've made it since the last century ended, though. 

I can't wait.  I think we'll have peas with it.

Welcome to the once-a-week blog

Having not one thing of interest to talk about, I decided to show you what my daughter put on Facebook that made my day. 

Rachel Fierro is  feeling peaceful with Donna M. Wood.

Stsdoronpea90M7t2l16h1:t 43hMm7l iP8a49t1c90h0cramtm6  3394u  · 

When I was growing up, this was what the word "cookbook" meant to me. It never occurred to me that any others existed. When mom cooked, this was open on the counter.

I got mine out to make gumbo today and memories came flooding in. Mom's cookbook was dirtier than mine. Not because I'm a more tidy cook (ask Kevin) but because she cooked every day, multiple times a day. I bet she's had more than a dozen editions, too.

She didn't make the processed stuff that I have often served for convenience, she made food with real ingredients and real care. The ingredients were often even grown in her crazy-large garden.

Thanks for the love of cooking, mom.

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One thing that made me smile was the several "likes" from some of her childhood friends from school, some of whom had eaten things I made at one time or other.

Unbeknownst to me, I was going to hear something a couple of days later that wouldn't be good news, so it was nice to have something like this to think about while I digest the bad news.  We took my dog Gabe to get his usual yearly appointment yesterday.  Our vet looked in his mouth to check his teeth and just happened to see something else in his mouth:  A melanoma.  

He said he wanted to remove it as soon as possible; there's a good chance that will be all he needs to live a long life.  I scheduled that.  I asked how much it would cost, and he said probably $250 to $300, which is doable for us.  I took the news pretty well yesterday, but this morning I woke up at 2 o'clock and realized that there's a chance I'll lose my almost eight-year-old Schnauzer to cancer.  I finally got out of bed an hour later.

He goes on walks with me.  If I would allow it, he would sit in the chair with me 24 hours a day.  If he lived to be twenty years old, it wouldn't be enough time to suit me.  If I pet one of my cats, I have to pet him at the same time, because he's so jealous of them.  

I just hope the vet gets it in time for me to have a few more years.

Gardening again

I am tired, but it feels good to know I have a good start in the garden.  The noon dinner dishes haven't been washed, and right now I don't know if I'll get to them until tomorrow.  Cliff has been working on the neighbor's tractor all day and finally got it started for the first time since he's had it.

I don't usually plant all my potatoes on St. Patrick's day; every year I mention here that my father sometimes planted some on St. Patrick's day, but planted more on Good Friday because that is always in the right moon sign for below ground crops.  I think most people just toss the whole seed potatoes in the ground; Cliff's sister used to live in Wisconsin and worked in the potato fields.  She said that's how they did it.  But I like to do certain things like my parents did in their garden because that's what keeps our elders alive in our life after they leave the earth.  It's the same when I'm cooking noodles (thanks, Mother) or cinnamon rolls (Hello, Grandma).  So I cut pieces of the potatoes, with two eyes in each piece like Mother did and put them in the row six inches down and twelve inches apart.  This year the seed potatoes were pretty big, so I did another one of my mother's tricks: I saved the parts of the potatoes that had no eyes to cook tomorrow, even though I had plenty on hand.

  My father believed in the moon signs, but not in the zodiac.  However, I googled it out of curiosity last Friday and saw that today happens to be a good day for below ground crops on all fronts:  the zodiac and the moon... and as a plus, it's also St. Patrick's day!  I don't really believe in the signs, but I did it just for fun.  If anyone is interested, you'll find the signs HERE.

The cats

I haven't mentioned the cats lately.  Butchie is still a loudmouth and wants me to let him let him in and out often.  I like to argue with him:  He meows loudly while sitting at the door, and I tell him "NO!"  Often he will give up and go take a nap on a chair, or on the seat of the stationary bike.  Actually, Unique is the one who first decided to nap on the bike, but Butch watched for awhile and decided to make it his bike.  Cliff often has to make them get off so he can ride.  

Both cats are getting better about not clawing furniture, and they seem to be learning they can only sleep on two different chairs.  They still want to play in both bathrooms, and try as I might, I don't always shut the bathroom doors.  Unique used to like to tear up the plastic liner in our tubs or play in the commode water, but she watched Butch and learned his favorite trick, which is to climb in the sink and take the little draining thing out, then take it to the kitchen and play with it.  As I was sitting here telling this story, Unique came to me carrying that thing.  It's a game to them, and they want me to know they've won again!

They still spend a lot of time in their back porch.  We have warm weather right now, and they like to climb up the cat tree to look out the window, which I am now keeping open for them.

Butch and my dog Gabe are fast friends now, and they wrestle almost every day at some point.  The dog doesn't bite, and the cat doesn't use his claws.  In the following video, they were wrestling on top of the heat register on a chilly day to see which one would get to warm up.

Oh, and one more thing:  It's time to start the garden.  I planted a few early vegetables yesterday.  Today I'll do some more tilling.

Look where the kids are now.

Shopping for groceries

The only things we do to get off our property are these:  going to one of our doctors, going to get groceries, and when Cliff takes me to church, two miles away; he takes me, then comes back to get me.  

We have a Costco card, but we only go there when we are already in the immediate area so Cliff can visit one of his doctors.  We don't buy much there, but it's an interesting place to go anyway, and they feed you along the way while you are shopping.  It's only a bite at each place, but I get to try things I never eat at home.

I do get excited when Price Chopper has meat of any kind on sale, though.  Today there's a three-day sale starting, and they have chicken breasts for $2.49 a pound.  I hope to bring home around 10 pounds, which I will divide and put in the freezer.  And there's butter for $2.99; they will allow me to buy three for that price, thank goodness, because I only have one pound of butter left, and I really want to make the oatmeal cookies my family loves, now that I have an oven that works properly.  I'm also out of eggs, and the cookies I make demand three.  Unfortunately, there will be no eggs on sale, but my family has gone without cookies too long.

These days Cliff  helps me shop; otherwise I will miss something on my list.  Two old heads are better than one.  We've always done most of our shopping at Walmart, and my dear husband really doesn't enjoy it, but he knows I need his help.  He is happy to be in Price Chopper, though; he thinks it's a "fancy" store, compared to Walmart.

I've been buying 80/20 ground beef at Price Chopper for a long time, but I have noticed lately there is water in it.  It tastes fine, I suppose, but when I see the water going up into the air as steam before I can see the 20-percent fat, I know that must be happening so they can sell me some water with my beef.  I'm thinking about going up the hill and getting all my ground beef at the local butcher shop, less than a mile down the road.  It costs  $6 a pound if you buy 10 1-pound-packages, but it is all beef with no water.  

The only other thing I have against Price Chopper is the smell of rotting fish.  They don't sell rotting fish, but they don't clean under the floor of the cooler that lets them show off their meat to customers.  I know this because Cliff once worked at a grocery store in the meat department for a short time.  When there wasn't anything else to do, he cleaned under that "floor"; he said the stink was unbelievable. 

Well, this is grocery day for me, and we'll be going to Price Chopper AND Walmart.  Wish us luck.    

I seldom worry these days

Well, here I am, no worse for the wear from talking about dementia.  I realize I have it, but I feel just like I always have, it's the same old me.  I do what I want to do and don't do what I don't want to do.  I talk to Jesus and take one day at a time.  At my age, I could die in my sleep any given night.  I could have a stroke or heart attack and maybe I'd get over it... but maybe not.

I live one day at a time just like all of us do.  If you are looking ahead at what terrible thing might happen, you will ruin the rest of your life.  Please don't pity me.  I am still enjoying my life on this earth.  This day is all we have.  So don't expect me to worry.  I might be gardening any day now.  I'm looking forward for the grass to grow so I can walk my goats out to the pasture to eat.

I have a devotional book I just love; there is a page for each day of the year, usually just one or two paragraphs.  It's astonishing how many times the words I see are exactly what I need.  The author always puts the scriptures at the bottom, so you know where her ideas come from.

The words for today were perfect.

 

Cooking with a worn-out brain

There are many methods of figuring out you have dementia, but there is a time when you realize it's true.  In my case, that time was in July when we had relatives here:  I was fixing dinner and suddenly didn't know what to do... about anything!  I'm being very careful about cooking these days, because I have a few times left a very important ingredient out of the recipe.  For instance, forgetting the bananas in banana bread.  

Every morning before Cliff, the dog, and the cats are awake, I go into another room, read a portion of the Bible, and pray.  I pray for Keith across the highway, who is in a wheelchair due to a stroke.  I pray for Janice, and her daughter who is probably in her sixties and has had several strokes and is in bed most of the day:  Imagine being a caretaker for a child of yours when you are 86 years old.  I pray for friends taking care of foster children, and pray for anyone else who is a good foster parent; so many of those children are broken vessels.  I couldn't do it!  When I'm done praying for others, I ask God to help me with my day, things like:  Help me that I don't make anybody sad today.  Help me in the kitchen, especially when I'm cooking, so I don't leave the oven on or forget to check the timer.  This morning I told him I was going to make a pumpkin pie, and asked Jesus to help me do it right.  Now, I'm not preaching to anyone here, or trying to sound "holy".  That's one reason I don't say a lot about my faith.  But I am not embarrassed to mention my walk with Him.

I went directly to the kitchen and made the crust, then started mixing the pie filling.  I consider pumpkin pie the easiest pie to make, because you just put all the ingredients in and stir them up.  (By the way, it took me three tries before I spelled "easiest" properly; that's why it takes me so long to do a blog entry any more.)

Yesterday I mentioned the eggs I got from the Amish last weekend and told Cliff I still had a few store-bought eggs to use before I used the good ones.  Cliff really likes fresh eggs, and asked if the yolks were a bright orange.  I told him we'd have bacon and eggs for breakfast and see!  All these eggs are very small, so instead of putting two eggs in the pie, I put two of the Amish eggs and the last one of the store eggs.  I put them in a cup, then thought, "I'll take a picture for Cliff, to let him see the difference."

And that's how easy it is for me to make a mistake when I'm cooking.  I put the pie in the oven and started the timer.  About three minutes later, my eyes landed on the cup with three eggs in it, and I felt like crying.  I had done it again!  Then I wondered if I could just pour it out of the crust, since it really hadn't started cooking; I knew it would be a messy situation, but I figured it shouldn't ruin anything too much... just the outside edge on half the pie.  

I got the ingredients out and started pouring everything back in the bowl, mixed in the eggs, and poured it all back into the crust.

And believe it or not, I said, "Thank You Jesus".

I'm baking again

The first morning after we brought my used kitchen stove home, I made biscuits.  The second day, we had meatloaf.  On the third day, I made cornbread to go with our pinto beans. 

This is the fourth day, and if I can make myself get out of my easy chair, I might make some raisin/oatmeal cookies.  

We have had some nice weather over the last week.  I took my walk four days, and might go again today; yesterday I walked almost two miles in the pasture.  I two days ago I went to the garden and started getting the trashy dead plants from last year piled up to burn or take away; it really felt good to be working in the garden.

By the way, the entry right before this this one was a repeat from 2010; apparently some of my readers thought it just happened, although at the top I said it was from 2010.  Sorry about the confusion.

Now I have to decide:  Shall I go walking, or should I make cookies that will cost me five bucks for the tiny eggs that were supposed to be large eggs, according to the words on the carton, and over a dollar and a half for the butter? 

Maybe we'll just eat those Oreos I got on sale last week.