Songs of the Common Household

Here are some songs we are singing around here.

“There’s a hole in the ceiling, dear Liza, dear Liza”

This hole has been in our living room ceiling since
it started leaking, three weeks after we had the
ceiling repainted after the previous leak.  Sigh.

With what shall we cover it, dear Henry, dear Henry?

With poster board, dear Liza.

I finally got sick of looking at that hole, right before
Thanksgiving.  Even the poster board wasn't big enough.

"Deck the halls with boughs of paper chain, Fa la la la la, la la la la!"

Our one and only decoration, the Advent/Chanukah
paper chain, is up.

" ‘Tis the last leaf of autumn left lying alone"

One last leaf on our Kwanzan cherry tree.
It is long gone now, but it's so warm the grass is starting
to grow again.

"Oft in the Stilly Night"

(sorry, no photo)

Oft, in the stilly night,

My bladder's chain has bound me,

To rise and turn on the light

And head to the WC.

"Rudolph, the red-nosed water bottle"

My Weight Watchers leader made these - one for
every person.   So cute, and zero calories!

 "Joy to the World!  The pie is done!"

My son and I made a trifecta of pies for Christmas:
pumpkin, apple, and blueberry.

"We wish you a Merry Christmas, and a happy New Year!

Three Domestic Scenes

Our first scene is at the Common Household breakfast table, a few weeks ago.

Common Household Husband, reading newspaper out loud:  “Vatican rabbis affirm faith.”

Me:  What?!  There are rabbis in the Vatican?!

Husband:  That’s what the headline says.

(He shows me this headline.  Oh, the importance of a comma.)

* * * * *

Our next household scene is few days later, at dinner. Reading the newspaper is usually a breakfast activity, but in this case the Common Household Husband was reading it after dinner. 

Husband:  Ah. They are going to change the person on the ten dollar bill.  Who will be the first woman on U.S. currency?*  Who would I pick?  Let’s see… Carol Burnett.  Or how about Golda Meir.  She would be good on the ten dollar bill.

Me:   Golda Meir wasn’t even a U.S. citizen.

Husband:  So?  Who says that it has to be a U.S. citizen? . . .  Okay, how about Martha Washington.  Or – this would be great!  The Pope!

Younger Daughter:  Dad, the Pope is not a woman.

Husband: But he wears a dress.  The slogan could be “Have a Pope in Your Pocket!”… Or how about if we put a famous dog on the ten dollar bill?

YD:  Women!  We’re talking about women on the currency!

Husband:   Lassie, a symbol of wholesome goodness.

YD, getting worked up: Rosa Parks! Amelia Earhart! Eleanor Roosevelt!

Husband:   Eleanor Roosevelt? What did she ever do?

YD, fuming:  She was the most active first lady ever!

Husband:   What did she do?

YD:  I forget, but she did a lot.   Or how about Ida B. Wells!

Me:  I think it should be Harriet Tubman.

YD:  Yeah, Harriet Tubman!  Or Sacagawea.

* I think it will not be the first woman on US currency.  Haven’t we already had Susan B. Anthony and Sacagawea on dollar coins?  But it will likely be the first woman on paper currency.  In other words, worth more than a dollar.

* * * * *

  

Our final scene is at dinner this past Sunday night, upon my return home.

Husband:     Carolyn, tell us about the fish you ate while you were in Canada.

Me:    Well, the first night I had smoked halibut.  And then the next night I had fish tacos made with haddock.

YD:  What else did you do while you were there?

Son: There was a funeral!  She didn't go to Canada just for the halibut.

. . .

We were discussing the hazards of birds flying into airplanes.

Son: You know, when they are testing aircraft, they fire chickens at the aircraft from a cannon.

Me:  WHY would they fire chickens at an aircraft?!

Husband:  To prepare them for fowl weather.

The Power of Lift

Thoughts while in Canada in December

The week before Christmas wouldn't be my first choice for a time to go to Canada. My brothers and I are here for the memorial service for my uncle, my father 's younger brother.  I am grateful we made our trip here in June, in happier (and warmer) times. 

The miracle is that my mother is also here. It is no mean feat for a woman of her age with various challenging physical ailments to get to this smallish town in Eastern Canada. My brother travelled with her. We shall have to submit his name for sainthood. First they flew from the States to Montreal, or as my mother called it, "That horrible city we had to go through."  Strictly speaking, she means "the horrible airport where we had to pass through customs."  My mother has many years of experience travelled internationally, mostly due to my Dad requiring her to vacation in Pakistan, India, Albania, Israel, Ireland and more. (I went on some of those trips with them.  My husband always says, "How come your family never wants to take a vacation in, say, Paris or London?") But it's been a long time since she made those trips, and air travel has changed considerably. 

To reach our destination here in Canada, she and my brother flew on a prop plane, a 20-seater.  I can only imagine how much their flight might have resembled a video game. 

Airline flight never ceases to amaze me. Every time I am in a plane I am astonished when we actually are able to lift off the ground.  My son has tried to explain the physics to me.  It's something about higher air pressure under the plane's wing compared to the pressure on top of the wing, and this is called "lift."  I can't say that I really understand the principle.  I have to take it on faith that air pressure is a strong enough thing to lift up an entire airplane with me in it.

The other thing that amazes me is that I am not frightened out of my wits to fly in an airplane. In my young adulthood I developed a fear of heights.  Acrophobia is supposedly an irrational fear of heights, but it seems perfectly sensible to me to fear falling off of high things. Yet on an airplane I prefer the window seat, so I can look down on the beautiful and fascinating world below.   My faith in lift must be pretty strong. I go with the notion that God invented physics and lift, so for me, faith in lift is a sort of faith in God. 

I have to admit that when we experience turbulence, and also during landing, I kind of abandon faith in lift and revert to Anne Lamott's prayer litany of saying "Help! Thanks! Wow!"  I can't say with certainty that I believe in the omnipotence of God (don't get me started on theodicy or we'll never be back in time for tea), but I do believe that in our struggles with lift, and with life, God travels with us. That's powerful enough. As we head off to the funeral home to honor the memory of my uncle, a kind person of great integrity, wit, and inner strength, that is the best place to leave my faith for the moment. 

Mrs. Latke Head

I did not grow up in Pittsburgh.  If I had, I would have knowledge of All Things Potato.  Pierogies, French fries on your salad, French fries in your sandwich – these are the main three food groups that Western Pennsylvania is famous for.  Get aht – yinz don’t wahnt fries on yinz’s steak salad?!

(For those like me, who are not from Western PA but have a bit of experience with Indian food: pierogies are essentially Polish samosas.  Potato filling wrapped in dough and then cooked.  I have to say, though, that I much prefer samosas to pierogies.)

Thus it was not until this year that I had knowledge of the product called frozen hash browns.  For a picnic this summer, my clever friend B_____, who did grow up in Pittsburgh, made a dish which my Younger Daughter called “Latke Salad” but which B_____ calls “Fried Potatoes.”  They are made using either dehydrated or frozen shredded potatoes, sautéed with diced onions, green peppers, and spices.  YD raved about Latke Salad.  I raved about the idea of shredded potatoes that did not contain scrapings of my knuckles.

Thanksgiving came. I cooked up a storm.  The next day I walked all over Pittsburgh’s Northside.  Then I was struck with Swollen Knee syndrome, remarkably on the same knee I injured during theHalloween Parades.   A variety of other things drained my energy.  And yet, Chanukah kept looking like it would arrive right on schedule, ten days after Thanksgiving.  Latke-making loomed.

 

Two-pan frying is necessary, if you want to finish cooking
the latkes before Purim.

I forced YD to help me at the grocery store.  She ran to get items while I limped around.  She did a fantastic job, until I came to “frozen hash browns” on the list.  I said, “Those are for making latkes.”  She balked.  “Those wouldn’t be real latkes!  You have to make latkes from potatoes!”  I said, “Okay,” and sent her back to get some real potatoes while I snuck over to the freezer section and found “Denny’s America's diner style hash brown shredded potatoes.”

My husband has been asking for someone to invent an Automatic Latke-Making Machine, but so far, there isn’t one.  When I shred the potatoes myself, latke-making is a long and messy process, at least two hours, including the time I spend removing gray shreds of potatoes from the kitchen walls.  With the frozen hash browns, it took about 45 minutes total.  Clean up was a breeze.  Woot! I even had the energy and enthusiasm to make Christmas cookies on the same day as I made latkes.   YD praised my latkes, and thanked me for using real potatoes.  I quickly disposed of the Denny’s bag and accepted her thanks.

My secret ingredient

Here on the blog I have made potato latkes six times.  The recipe using frozen hash browns follows (below), but if you are a purist and like to use “real potatoes” here is my recipe from past years.

If you are a Boy Scout at camp, here is a recipe for you.

Spin the dreidel. Sov, sov, sov.

Golden latkes, using no-longer-frozen potatoes

Potato Latkes using frozen shredded potatoes

YIELD 24 pancakes

Note:  This was just enough for the three of us, using the latkes as our main dish for dinner. If the Common Household Son will be at your table, double this recipe.

INGREDIENTS

one 26-ounce package frozen Denny’s hash brown shredded potatoes.

(or any brand, about 5-6 cups)

½ to 1 cup onion, finely chopped

1⁄4 cup fresh parsley, minced

2 tablespoons milk

3 eggs, beaten

1/3 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper (more or less to your taste)

vegetable oil (total of about 1 cup, or maybe less)

DIRECTIONS

Place hash browns in a strainer and rinse with cold water until thawed. Drain thoroughly; transfer to a large bowl.

Add onion, parsley, milk, eggs, flour, salt and pepper; mix well.

In a skillet over medium heat, heat 1/4 inches of oil. Drop batter by 1/4 cupfuls into hot oil. Fry until golden brown on both sides. Drain on paper towels.

Optional: Serve with sour cream or applesauce.

Note: If using refrigerated hash browns, skip the first step.