by jphilo | Jun 21, 2010 | Family
On Saturday, the daughter dashed any hopes Hiram and I entertained about becoming super models. What’s worse she did it in front of thirty or forty people who attended the wedding shower our church held for both our children and their sweethearts.
Her motives were pure, even noble, as she answered this query written by one of the shower goers (as instructed by the shower planners) for the Q & A portion of the party: What have you learned by observing your parents’ marriage?
Anne had time to think about her answer, because Allen answered first. He said something about learning how spouses balance one another out, citing Hiram’s spare use of words compared to the bucket loads I fling with abandon. I don’t remember exactly what he said as I was talking to someone at the time.
Next, Anne’s sweetie answered, describing how he had learned the importance of sacrifice from his mother.
Finally, the daughter opened her mouth. “I learned that love changes how you look at people.” She explained further. “Most of you know my parents and that they’re nice-looking but they’re never going to be super models. Still, sometimes they look at each other with googly eyes, like the other one is the best-looking person on earth.”
If anyone other than the daughter had said we weren’t super models, I wouldn’t have believed what I heard. But over the years the daughter has proven to be the most perceptive and honest person in my life. So what she says must be true. And if the man of steel and I are not super model material, we must rethink the future.
Throw out my dream of usurping Sally Fields as the queen of Boniva.
Nix Hiram’s five year plan for becoming the new Rogain spokesman.
Stop honing our electric-motor-cart-driving-while-looking-youthful skills.
Chuck the fake smiles while eating All Bran in hopes of becoming geriatric cereal models.
We’ll have to rely on something other than our non-existent good looks if we want to be useful during our twilight years. I’m thinking about building a googly eye factory in the back yard, since we’re pretty good at making them even if raw materials are in short supply. When it’s time to mount an advertising campaign we’ll hire the kids and their sweethearts as super models. From what I observed this past weekend, they’re pretty good at making googly eyes, too.
by jphilo | Jun 18, 2010 | Family
Now that the Philo household consists of just me and Hiram, our grocery bills have gone way down. Event though Hiram has a healthy appetite, sometimes, I go two weeks between trips to the supermarket. Pretty nice.
About a month ago, we had company. Hiram’s cousin (our age), his oldest son (Allen’s age) and his youngest son (14) were here for the weekend. The oldest son, a missionary from Siberia (that’s right, Siberia) was on a support-raising tour and spoke at our church on May 17. http://www.youtube.com/user/senttosiberia
The men outnumbered the woman, four to one. Meal after meal, I was astounded by the amount of food needed to satisfy big, strapping, hard-working men. More than once, I was sure I’d over-prepared so much that we’d be eating leftovers for a week. More than once I was wrong. They ate every last bite of almost every meal.
During one lunch, I went to a graduation party. Hiram said they would eat the leftovers that had piled up before their arrival. When I returned, all the leftovers were gone. By the end of the weekend, every bit of every meal was eaten. The bratwurst were gone. The Greek salad was gone. The fruit salad was gone. The strawberry shortcake was gone. The baked oatmeal was gone. The shish-kabobs were gone. The Green Chile bake was gone. The broccoli was gone. The green beans were gone.
I’m not complaining. I’m just amazed at how much guys, especially young, hard-working ones, eat. And I’m wondering if I need to contact the Idaho Family Camp cooks and suggest they increase the amount of food to be prepared and served. Based on my experience with these men, three of whom will be at the camp, they need to know. Then again, they’ve been feeding this crew for years. They probably know already.
Can’t wait to eat with you again, fam. See you in July!
by jphilo | Jun 16, 2010 | Family
For the past year or so, I’ve been posting a recipe a week on my blog. I’ve been upfront about the method behind this madness. My kids both want a cookbook of favorite family recipes, so posting them on the blog killed two proverbial birds with one stone, thought I refrained from baking them in a hypothetical pie.
But Sunday, when I counted the days until this Saturday’s double wedding shower for my matrimonially-minded offspring, I realized that my efficiency went to my head. For a few minutes I vented. Whaddya mean there are less than five days to put the thing together? Where did the time go? How am I supposed to create a cookbook that fast?
Then I calmed down and did the positive self-talk thing. You’re a writer. You can do this. You have the tools. You have paper, a printer, and over 30 recipes posted on the blog. Several more are on file, along with pictures of the food, from your years of writing a recipe column.
After several long sessions and so many deep cleansing breaths hyperventilation was imminent, I calmed down again.
I’m still calm, at least until the list of requested recipes not yet entered into the computer nor photographed for posterity’s sake rears it’s lengthy head. Then I go a little ballistic, until I remember the cookbooks will be in three-ring binders, each recipe tucked into a protective plastic sleeve to the delight of my tidy and perfectionistic heart, so I can send the kids those recipes as they are posted on this blog.
What a relief! No more positive self-talk needed for this perfectionist, efficiency nut. Life is good again…
Unless it rains so much the yard floods for the wedding.
Unless the flowers are done blooming before the wedding.
…I think it’s time to go talk to the oak tree again. Either that or I’m gonna hyperventilate for sure.
How many days until the wedding?
by jphilo | Jun 9, 2010 | Family
In my last blog entry about my man of steel – way back in November – had just been diagnosed with shingles, couldn’t get outside to jog because a terrible winter had just begun, and the hospital where he works insisted he get the flu shot, his first ever. Day after day, he was moping around the house, feeling like an old man in decline.
Well, these days he’s a different man. On Saturday he joined thousands of other runners in Des Moines for Dam to Dam, the largest half-marathon in the United States. Next week, he’ll be in the Boundary Waters hiking across Isle Royale with several other men from our church. An amazing transformation, huh?
If you’re ready for a transformation, follow the simple steps he followed:
- Lose any excess weight. Hiram lost 20 pounds, mostly by not eating ice cream.
- Run every day.
- Do palades twice a day.
- Join your wife for her morning walk. Be sure to embarrass her by wearing your hiking pack.
- Load your hiking pack with 60 pounds of weight and then mow a 1.3 acre lawn with a walking mower.
These days, my man of steel doesn’t mope around the house feeling like an old geezer in decline. He acts like a Cub Scout getting ready for his first camp out while he dries apples for the trip to Isle Royale and repacks his pack once a day.
And every day, he makes me laugh out loud. Who wouldn’t laugh at the sight of a guy with a 60 pound pack on his back mowing the lawn?
by jphilo | May 24, 2010 | Family
My sister called the day of baking 31 pies for our niece’s graduation the Pie Extravaganza. The party guests pronounced it a delicious success. My mother declared her decision to make pies for her oldest granddaughter’s graduation four years ago since it meant the same thing would be done for her other two granddaughter’s, too.
But four days after our baking day, I call it a learning experience. Here are a few of the lessons pie baking taught us last Friday:
- Sometimes even Grandma Conrad’s Never-Fail Pie Crust fails. When it does, a new batch doesn’t take too long to make.
- If you’re low on cherries, use 4 cups cherries and 1 cup sliced strawberries for a 9 inch cherry pie. The finished product elicits rave reviews.
- Strawberry-rhubarb pie is on par with fresh sweet corn, BLTS, sugar-snap peas and wilted lettuce for best summer foods.
- Minute tapioca is almost foolproof as a thickener.
- Mom has failed greatly in the past four years. Then she kept up with my sister and me, pretty much running things. This time, sitting down to peel apples, slice strawberries and chop rhubarb nearly wore her out.
- Peeling apples, slicing strawberries and chopping rhubarb is a great way to show your granddaughter you love her.
- My daughter, Anne, is becoming an accomplished cook. She filled in where Mom couldn’t.
- I’m really glad both my kids’ high school graduation parties are behind us. They’re a lot of work.
- My daughter has earned my undying gratitude for not requesting homemade pie as her wedding dessert.
I could go on and on, but it’s time to stop. The list of lessons is substantial, and it’s time to attend to everything that didn’t get done last weekend. Who knew pie baking could be such a good teacher?
by jphilo | Apr 23, 2010 | Family
Playing dress-up was serious business when my kids were little. Since both of them active in drama, their love affair with costumes continued through high school. True, my son still goes gaga over cowboy boots and goofy hats and my daughter is a seamstress at her college’s theater department. But I thought they’d left their dress-up days behind like the rest of my adult family – mother, sister, brother, cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws, out-laws – and become staid, respectable and a little bit stuffy.
The photo booth at my son’s wedding reception proved me wrong. The picture factory went into production after the ceremony ended, while the wedding party and immediate family went outside for pictures. By the time we entered the reception hall, the to the photo booth was populated by revelers wearing the hats, clown nose, pig and elephant noses, scarves, shawls, kazoos, do-rags, aprons, parasols, and old glasses I described in All Packed, one of last week’s posts.
I hadn’t expected the older generations to let their hair down with such enthusiasm. Seeing my uncle, the former high school world history teacher who gave killer essay tests, enter the booth wearing a blond wig and tiara far exceeded my wildest expectations of silliness. But he wasn’t the only one whose inhibitions bowed to the lure of playing dress-up. The party was awash in goofiness of the rib-tickling, nose-snorting variety. It transcended generations and genders, inflicting belly laughs indiscriminately.
Next time my son and new daughter visit, they have to bring their guest book which is full of photo booth pictures of the guests, along with their signatures and well wishes. I need a second look at one of the pictures. If my uncle’s neat and proper signature is beside the photo of the man in the blond wig and tiara, I’ll believe it really happened.
And if it did, I’m gonna rent a booth for my daughter and future son-in-law’s wedding in July. Apparently, this dress-up thing is in the blood, and I’m not gonna fight it. We’ll make it a family tradition instead.
To take a peek at the photos go to http://www.grandphotobooth.com/see-my-photos-login/. Here’s a handy index for some of the strips:
Strip 2 – my brother’s family
Strip 5 – my cousin and her husband
Strip 7 – another cousin and two of her girls
Strip 9 – my sister and her husband
Strip 10 – my husband’s twin and his wife
Strip 17 – the bride’s mom and her friend
Strip 18 – Hiram & me – notice who selected the same costume as his twin!
Strip 19 – my daughter and her fiance
Strip 23 – my daughter and her girl cousins spelling out the name of their one cousin who’s in Spain this semester
Strip 26 – the bride and groom
Strip 31 – my generation of cousins
Strip 33 – the groom and his grandma, my mom
Strip 34 – my mother with her sister and brother-in-law
