The Queue

The holiday season brings to us many traditional experiences. Christmas music plays in retail centers. Bells clang near red donation pots. Twinkling lights outline homes and trees. Blow-up Santas wave on snowy lawns.  Mail increases in our boxes. Holiday cookies and candies tempt their way into our bellies. And queues form. Lots of queues. Queues can be short, long, annoying, entertaining or all of the above. Last week I found myself in many queues. Here are a few memorable moments.

I needed to get a package in the mail by a certain date so the clock was ticking. The line was fairly long at the customer service desk but I was in it to win it. The lady ahead of me started a conversation about the weather, always a safe and innocuous topic. We continued with a few remarks about the slow moving line we were in and that it was to be expected this time of year. When I finally made it to the counter, the frazzled clerk put my package on the scale and we waited for the information to pop up. And we waited. And we waited some more. The clerk looked at me and said, "It looks like the system is down." She looked at the long line behind me and yelled, "We're all going to have to wait with packages. The system is down." With a big sigh, I took my package and went home. Fortunately, a later attempt that day was successful.

I had a small international package that involved a trip to the main post office. The lines are usually long, especially this time of year. Two calm, I've-seen-it-all gentlemen were working the service counters. My plan was to complete the customs form by the work station and then queue up with my package. However, the work station was completely void of customs forms so I queued up without a completed form. When I finally made it to the counter, I asked for a customs form and the attendant apologetically handed me a stack and asked if I would restock the work station. I didn't want to hold up the line behind me so I gave up my spot and headed back to the work station. After completing my form, I lined up again and finally made it to the service counter. The clerk took my small package and after weighing it he said, "You won't need a customs form for this one. It's under the necessary weight." Well, okey, dokey, then. Good to know. While I had his attention, I asked for guidelines on international packages and he kindly educated me on such matters. I am a smarter person for it.

My favorite queue happened on an early morning run to the grocery store. The lone cashier was waiting on the only customer ahead of me. The customer was clearly a worker bee with his bright neon jacket and sandwich/Mountain Dew/candy bar purchase. The cashier politely asked him, "How are you?" The gentleman took a long a pause as if he was just asked to find Guam on a Geography quiz. He finally replied, "Not terrible." I giggled to myself and decided that "not terrible" is good enough for most days.

Merry Christmas to all of you! May your queues be short and entertaining.

Crumbs

By now most of us have sailed or slogged our way through the first of two end-of-year holidays. Thanksgiving seems to be all about the food. Traditionally, of course, there is the golden turkey decked out with mashed potatoes, gravy, green bean casserole and stuffing. An assortment of pies usually closes the deal with pumpkin leading the pack.

A less traditional event, but gaining in popularity, is Friendsgiving. Table guests are related by friendship rather than blood. Such events are intended to be more casual and can be a substitute or antidote for the traditional fanfare of larger gatherings. The striking component of a Friendsgiving is that expectations are more relaxed. It is no secret that holiday "failures"  are almost a sure thing when one tries to orchestrate family events according to a Norman Rockwell painting or Martha Stewart lifestyle book. If Thanksgiving is all about carving the perfect turkey with the perfect adults and children, we are missing the point.

I did not have a Friendsgiving this year, but I would not classify my holiday as traditional, either. In the days before Turkey Day, our house was grand central station for a few of my nieces and nephews as they connected with each other before moving onward to feasts in other states. Nasty weather made the process interesting, but everyone made it to their chosen destinations. Our time together did not include meals of turkey or cranberries but we enjoyed lots of laughter and good conversation with grain bowls, comfort casserole and raisin bread toast. And snacks. Lots of snacks.

By Thanksgiving Day, all our house guests were gone and we were off to my mother's assisted living facility to join her gang for a family style meal. Seating is always an interesting process because it is "open seating" which is challenging for residents who thrive on their own assigned chairs. We have learned to go early and stake territory near the end of the table. We were joined by another resident and her son. They were originally from our hometown so conversation swirled around the "old days" of our youth. We had turkey, potatoes, beans, corn, sweet potatoes and rolls. A good meal without a bird to carve in sight. A few of us were related by blood but for the most part we were really just a captive crowd connected by a place. We all agreed the best part of the meal was that we did not have to do any cooking or cleaning up.

I hope you had a good Thanksgiving this year, traditional or otherwise. My advice to all is to heed the words of Proverbs 17:1, "Better a dry crust with peace and quiet than a house full of feasting, with strife." Turkeys, tofu or tater tots, all are good with a little love and kindness.

Brains On

My mother loves puzzle books. In her retirement years she ordered crossword puzzle books by the case. It wasn't always easy to procure a new puzzle book in her small town so she made sure she always had a ready supply in her own closet. She secured the little books horizontally onto a clipboard so she had a good working surface. Most of her pencils had big pink erasers stuck on their ends. Fun for hours.

She still loves puzzles, despite her fuzzy brain. She has added word finds to her latest puzzle fun and I have seen her tackle word scrambles and hidden picture challenges as well. Her doctor loves to hear that she is into puzzles so everyone is happy.

Last week she was working on a puzzle book I hadn't seen before. She was unable to tell me the source of the book but she was busy working her way through it. The theme of the book was all things American and the mark on the book was "VFW" so I suspect it was a product of recent Veteran's Day events. She showed me some of the different puzzles she had finished and I was impressed with her accomplishments.

Three particular puzzles were left untouched. They were trivia questions pertaining to different aspects of America. We decided to make a game of it and see who could get the most questions correct. The American Flag was our first category. Epic fail. Out of twenty-four questions, we barely eked out four correct answers. Mom kept saying, "And we're teachers, we should know this stuff." To which I  replied, "I taught fourth grade and middle school science, not a lot of Star Spangled information embedded in those two fields."

We moved on to U.S. government. Our ego sails were filled on this one. We got all but two correct and we gave ourselves half points on both of them because we are teachers scoring our own test. One of the questions stunned me, however. The question was, "How many members are in the U.S. House of Representatives?" Without missing a beat, my mother replies, "435" and by Gumby, she was right. This is coming from someone who can't tell me if she just ate a cookie two seconds ago, despite the crumbs on her sweater and the napkin in her lap. I guess years of very active participation in politics etched information deeply into her brain. I'm afraid the only fact that will be etched in my brain will be the color of a Cheetoh.

We finished our puzzle challenge with general U.S. trivia. We gave ourselves a D+ on this one and that was probably grading on the curve. We realized we only knew the name of one city in Vermont. Wrong answer, anyway. We let our minds sketch the shorelines of different states so we could answer the question about which state has the most shoreline miles. It is Alaska, one point for us. Overall, we patted ourselves on the back for at least attempting to answer each question. Teachers know how to encourage, even if it is just ourselves.

Here is your U.S. Flag trivia question for the day. "Upon the admission of a new state to the union, when is a new star added to the flag?" (see below for the correct answer and give yourself a point, no matter the answer)

As per the Flag Act of 1818, a new star is added on the
 4th of July following the date of the state's admission.

Jackpot

Occasionally, I find myself drawn into an episode of a popular PBS show, Antiques Roadshow. Folks present their goods to appraisers, hoping to hear the pronouncement of treasure rather than trash. The ultimate insult is when a proud person is told that their "Ming dynasty" heirloom vase is just a knock-off of the real thing. The former proud-as-punch owner has to quickly recover with as much dignity as possible on national television. I am not sure if I feel bad for them or not. Usually, said vase owner has no skin in the game other than being the current owner of an object and a tale being passed along in a family. Said vase owner probably needs to remember the old adage "Don't count your chickens before they are hatched".

The most entertaining folks are the ones who share an item that has held no prominent place in a family's lore. It might be a little tin toy that was played with extensively throughout the years. Or an "ugly" painting stuck in a box in the attic. Or a weird looking chair that has gathered dust over time. When they are given an appraisal in the high five digit range or even six digits, the blood usually rushes out of their faces and they are completely tongue-tied. The lottery has been won without buying a ticket.

I'm sure many of us watching the show wonder whether we own anything of hidden worth. Since I come from a family of tossers rather than savers, my odds are not very great. And most of my family are loath to spend on anything considered impractical. The idea that one of my relatives would purchase a fancy vase during worldwide travels is quite humorous. My grandparents spent their honeymoon driving to a TB sanitarium where my grandmother's brother was a patient. They car camped and on top of it all, my grandmother's younger brother was along for the ride. These are my people, folks. No Ming dynasty vases in our attics.

Over the years, we have had a few things that appreciated in value. There was the bizarre little beanie baby incident when I sold a beanie baby for about hundred times what I paid for it. It was bittersweet for me because I found myself feeling sorry for the woman who bought it. I don't think any stuffed object is worth that kind of money. I certainly had no sentimental attachment to the little brown bear. My husband has also sold a few old items for a shekel or two more than was ever paid for them. Rest assured, most of our artwork, jewelry and furniture are depreciating as we speak.

Antiques Roadshow does a great job of tapping into a nerve as old as the miners in the great gold rush. The risk of finding fool's gold is outweighed by the dream of fabulous riches. But when all is said and done, most of us instinctively know what is of true value in our lives. No appraiser needed.

And if you have a pretty vase in your attic, I promise not to judge.

Smorgasboard

My state is awash with orange this time of year. And it is not just the trees providing bursts of color. It is hunting season for our state bird, the pheasant. Hunters from near and far don bright orange safety vests, jackets and caps as they gear up for another season. Men, women, dogs and children of age tromp around in fields hoping to flush out a cackling bird or two or three. Gone are the days of an abundance of pheasants but the zeal of hunters has not diminished. There is a festive atmosphere as towns across the state set out the welcome mats and embrace one and all for the tradition of pheasant hunting.

A tradition that is seared into my memory is the annual Dutch Smorgasboard held shortly after the arrival of hunters in my hometown. My high school, steeped in Dutch traditions, hosted the smorgasbord as a fundraising event. Our saintly mothers did most of the heavy lifting by preparing massive amounts of food for the meal. My mom's specialty was Pigs in the Blanket (Saucijzebroodjes). The recipe was a far cry from the current day process of wrapping a wienie in a square of crescent dough. Mom made the dough from scratch, lard most likely involved. The filling was usually a mixture of hamburger, sausage, bread crumbs and egg. The dough was rolled out and cut into squares. A dollop of filling was wrapped up in a little dough blankie and baked until golden. Amazingly delicious and amazingly time consuming. I never heard my mom complain about the huge undertaking each year as she made dozens of piggies for the event and kept seven kids fed at the same time. I, on the other hand, whimpered my way through the 12 dozen pecan tassies I was required to make for my daughter's school fundraiser years later. I am weak.

Students were also required to participate in the smorgasboard. The guys and gals dressed up in Dutch costumes, sans the wooden shoes. Our task was to take marching orders from our mothers. We helped people with their trays, cleaned up spills and and kept the tables tidy. It was always crazy busy with swarms of folks queued up for their meal. A gymnasium filled with people and tables of steaming food made for a very long and warm evening.

The best part was getting to eat after your shift was completed. I was not a fan of all the Dutch offerings. I easily passed on the Snert (pea soup). I am sure it was good but it always seemed a little grainy to me, never mind the subsequent gastrointestinal issues. I also passed on the fruit soup (krentjebrij). My memory of the concoction is hazy but I do remember chunks of prunes, raisins and other dried fruits globbed together in a bowl. Seemed sketchy to me. My food radar was zoned in on the tried and true favorites. Hutspot, a mashed potatoes and carrots mixture was always on my plate as well as the meatballs swimming in gravy (gehaktballen). Pigs in a blanket were also on my go-to list, if there were any left by the time I went through the line. And for a little color and kick, I added cooked red cabbage (rode kool). For dessert, I gobbled up the little fried donut balls (vet bollen) covered in sugar. Our urge to go back for more was always met with a cautionary glance from the mothers, reminding us that the supply of food was not infinite.

As the years marched onward, the Dutch Smorgasboard tradition finally came to an end. I don't know the exact reason but I suspect it had to do with a decrease in the number of school supporters available to make the labor intensive foods. And, as with all traditions, there often comes a time for a change. I am sure many folks still miss it but I doubt very many want to crank out dozens of pigs in the blanket any more.

Here is my highly technical recipe for hutspot (mashed potatoes and carrots).

Boil potatoes and carrots until tender. Add salt, pepper and milk/cream. Cream is best, of course. Add copious amounts of butter. Mash until desired consistency is attained. Then add more butter. 

Shriveled

A recent news post reported that our country's raisin industry is experiencing a decline in sales as they compete with other countries. I know enough about economics to fill a pistachio shell so I won't comment on imports and exports but I think I know how to fix the problem. Marketing, people, marketing.

No surprise the last time raisins experienced a spike in sales happened in the 1980's when a wildly famous commercial was rolled out. It featured wrinkly raisin characters belting out a song by Marvin Gaye, "I Heard It Through the Grapevine." Not only did the little food gems experience popularity but toys and other merchandise were generated in the process. The props in the commercial were so revered that some of them now hold a place in the Smithsonian Institute. Not bad for a bunch of raisins.

But, commercials are not free and the funding dollars eventually dried up. The high cost of commercial production needed full support from the players in the game and that was not to be as time marched onward. Without airing the dirty laundry of the industry, let's just say the playground got a little nasty.

Fast forward to today. New faces agree that raisins need a makeover in the commercial world if there is going to be an incentive for growers to continue. The highly coveted land needed for raisin production could be converted into almond orchards if action isn't taken. Nothing against almonds but their ad campaign for almond milk is apparently working (Don't get me started on nut "milks". God bless the cow!).

It is time to convince folks that raisins are the next best nutritional savior. It's been done before.  Let's take a look at kale as an example. In my opinion, no amount of crisping, chopping or massaging can make that green palatable, but the industry convinced folks that it would save lives with its magnificent nutrients. The campaign worked and kale sales skyrocketed. The same goes for coconut oil. Nutritionists knew that it was a mixed bag of good and bad fats but apparently no one was speaking out as marketing gurus began touting the oil as the giver of life. Finally, the voices of science spoke out and put a stop to that nonsense.

Our little raisin friends have a lot going for them already. They are small and snackable. They have a great shelf life. They come in different colors and sizes. And they taste good. What's not to love? If we can convince John and Janice Q. Public that raisins have secret nutritional powers, the raisin is back in business. That shouldn't be too difficult given that raisins are little powerhouses of energy and vitamins. The words "natural sugar" alone might be enough to start the ball rolling. Throw in some healing testimonies, a hip celebrity and a catchy phrase or song and the needle starts moving.

I, for one, need no convincing. Raisins will always be on my shelf. Bread pudding is not the same without a few thrown in for a burst of goodness. Moroccan chicken gets a little punch with a cup of golden raisins. And the mid-afternoon slump gets a wake-up call when raisins are at the ready. Move over kale, raisins are back in town.

(Below are photos of my grandmother's Gold Medal Flour cookbook from 1910. If you have time, and you can cope with my bad photography, read the information in their ad campaign. Makes me chuckle every time.)

Respite

Vacations are often a cornucopia of expected and unexpected events. A recent trip my husband and I took was certainly filled with all of the above. No surprise for us that the days before departure were a little frantic but we did not anticipate the three EF-2 tornadoes touching down in our city the day before we had planned to leave. We delayed our departure so we could clean up some of the storm's aftermath. Blessedly, we were spared the worst of it. Then a deluge of rain hit our state and many of the main arteries to our destination were closed due to flooding. Despite my maudlin moments prior to leaving, we were able to carve out a detour plan around the flooded roads. It added an hour to our trip, but we were grateful to find a work around. As we made our way across the state, a headwind picked up with such fury that we spent the rest of the drive bucking against a wall of moving air. Gas mileage was abysmal but we finally arrived at our destination, looking like dog spit and ready for a break.

Here are a few moments from the trip. No extra charge for the poor photography skills.

I know I am in the right place when I see a sign like this in the window. What a relief to see folks looking at each other rather than down at a little screen and scrolling away. Stroll not scroll, people!

Everyday I took a walk in and around the woods. Quite a stretch for me as I am not very outdoorsy but I loved peeking into nature's purse of goodies. Little wildflowers never fail to please.

If you look carefully, you can see a stream gurgling in the background. It was my go-to spot each day. The sound alone is enough to keep one sane and centered. 

I couldn't resist the calling of this little chapel in the woods. No preachers when I was there but plenty of birds giving me advice. 

Speaking of birds, look carefully at all the ospreys in the sky. Not. My hopes of watching ospreys skydancing were dashed by maintenance closings near the trail and 90 degree weather, both of which made me one cranky chick. We did, however, see more turkey vultures than we could count everywhere we went. All God's creatures. 

Another creature that always fascinates me is the Pollenia rudis, also known as a cluster fly. They love to bumble their way into warm places when fall arrives. Their loud buzzing is as if they have a summer's worth of stories to tell. Soon enough they are on their backs in the throes of death or a bad landing. 

My reading chair. My favorite spot. Enough said. 

The cabin on our veranda was my husband's favorite spot. Shade if it was warm. Sunshine if it was cool. I joined him if it was a Goldilock's moment, temperature just right. 

Sadly, the time comes when the trek homeward must begin. Rest stops were our friends. And snacks. Lots of them.

My trip souvenir. Shortly before returning home, I broke out in a nasty case of hives. Nothing says creepy like a bunch of welts erupting over your face, arms and neck. I blame it on my tromping around in the woods, but the truth of the matter is I don't think I will ever know for sure what was the cause. I do know our trip was worth the hurdles of storms, flooding, delays and lesions.  

Especially when we could end the day with this.