The cliché is that psychiatrists’ patients talk about how much they hate their mothers. In fact, my shrink met my mother once and never stopped talking about how much he disliked her! I’ve always given her points for being brave enough to go with me to one of my sessions, but, in truth, felt validated… Continue reading Mother’s Day — it’s complicated
Amazing how one sentence can bring someone back from the dead and slap you up’side the haid. My mother’s been dead for 18 years, and yet when I found an old letter of hers this morning, boom! This letter’s at least 20 years old, maybe more. She’s talking about a much disliked sister-in-law’s back surgery… Continue reading Guilt and lamb
That’s a grammar police swipe at It Was Me All Along, Andie Mitchell’s memoir of coming to terms with her food addiction (clarkson potter, 2015). Mitchell is a (now) beautiful blogger (canyoustayfordinner.com) who, like so many of us, has had her more than whale-size phases. I wanted to like this book for many reasons, including the… Continue reading It was I all along or, even better, I was in here the whole time
For our Lenten reading/discussion, a few of us read C.S. Lewis’s “The Screwtape Letters” (1941). I only made it to one discussion but I did enjoy reading this, especially the devil’s letter on gluttony. Old Screwtape reminds his nephew Wormwood that there are two types of gluttony: Gluttony of delicacy and that of excess. Holy… Continue reading C.S. Lewis, gluttony and white bean dip
There’s no close-up of this chili because there is no photogenic lentil chili. It all looks like sludge, no matter how fabulous it tastes. However, this recipe, adapted from Milwaukee restaurant Sauce via Gourmet magazine and thespicehouse.com, was the centerpiece of a graduation potluck picnic at Gettysburg College last weekend. Surprising people really enjoyed it,… Continue reading Spicy lentil chili, college graduation!
Spring, that brazen hussy, sashayed through the open windows yesterday without a care that soon we’ll be ravaged by summer’s awful heat. Every year I forget. Every year I throw open those windows and smell the turned earth, the pear blossoms and the cows. Every year I hear the meadowlarks and the peepers and think, “This… Continue reading Seduced and abandoned
My father’s mother was so Pennsylvania Dutch she spoke it. My mother’s mother, so Northeastern WASP she spoke that! My father loved Pennsylvania Dutch food so my passive-aggressive mother never fixed it. (Her friend Doris G. made this soup.) She loved struggling with cranberries to see if she couldn’t get her smooth sauce to gel… Continue reading Chicken corn soup and cranberry-orange bread — who I am