Swell Away Dear Heart

Recent events have my heart swelling with pride and love. My daughters, whom I have always loved and always been so proud of, have found a way to amplify those feelings exponentially. I have done one thing right in my life. I have been the father of the three most wonderful people in the world. It is enough and I am satisfied with my life. More than satisfied, I am beaming with joy and love and just a little bit of pride. It has been a long time since I felt pride in anything I have done and I am tickled pink to have even a glimmer of it return. It feels so good to know that someplace, somewhere in the world, I am loved.

The Right Thing

It is not very often that I do the right thing. I have on occasion done the right thing and not known about it until much later. Today I did the right thing and I realize it today. I had labored in my mind over it for some time and last night I made up my mind. I knew what the right thing to do was but it was much more advantageous to me to do the opposite. I lay awake for a while and decided to finally for once in my life to do the right thing at the right time. This morning I did the right thing. I am basking in the glory of knowing that I am loved and it is priceless. It is more than enough for me. Perhaps in the future the advantageous thing will happen but right now I would not trade the right thing for anything.
Blessed is the Father of Daughters!

Adventure

Anticipation is brimming over in my mind. I may be about to embark on a new adventure. Too long have I been Mr. Underhill and I may be about to step out the front door on a journey into the sunshine. Still, Bilbo was right about stepping onto a path and the old Holmstrand luck may be lurking around a corner so I will try to not get my expectations too high. I have always been averse to change. There are complications but perhaps they can be overcome. I very much hope so.

Why?

Yesterday was a day for wondering, wondering tinged with sadness. When I was in younger, I went to the World's Fair which was in New York City at the time. I don't recall all of the modern wonders that we saw there but there is one thing that was permanently etched in my mind. I stood in the long lines and eventually got to see Michaelangelo's Pieta. I was overwhelmed by the man's ability to turn stone into such a moment. The moment has stayed with me all of these years. The sadness of Mary and the almost stunned look on her face. The sadness and the artist's ability to capture it in stone led to a lifetime of interest in great art. The sadness was amplified exponentially when my own children were born. How that woman had to watch her own son be so horribly executed. It was as if she had chosen to withdraw from life and suffering. Even as I type this, the feeling washes over me. It is not the sadness of her face but the look of almost totally abandoning everything. I think that I remember reading that she and Mary Magdalene went to Cyprus to live out the rest of their lives. Cyprus, the homeland of Astarte? There is much to ponder over such a move.
Yesterday I put a Christmas CD on the computer. It is Luciano Pavarotti's "O Holy Night". He sings Ave Maria in Italian. I don't understand Italian but the feeling came rushing back over me. I once had a CD of Barbra Streisand singing Ave Maria but I had to abandon it because I became so morose after listening to it that I would cry for some time. How Mary must have suffered holding the body of her son after all that she had witnessed. Perhaps the thought "That's enough, I cannot take any more.". That's enough, the springs of the eyes are awakening again.
Christmas is a time of hope and joy. There is Santa and Rudolph and lights and cookies and the tree and the glow of wonder in the faces of the children. There is Jingle Bells and the power of Adeste Fidelus and the portent of the Drummer Boy and the mission of the Magi. Then there is Ave Maria.
I was raised as a Roman Catholic. There is much to the Chuch that I have come to ignore. The Church holds Mary in a very special place. I can never ignore the look on her face in the Pieta. I don't think that the artist could either. Perhaps that is the reason that it was the only work that he ever signed. It was his legacy to us.

Garlic

Yesterday I took a walk. The walk was, surprise surprise, to the grocery store. I had not been there in several days and the withdrawal symptoms were setting in. It was necessary, I was out of garlic. I also wanted to get cream cheese and sour cream and graham crackers. I have plans of making a cheesecake. I could have gotten most of the ingredients at the local convenience store. The people that own that store are very nice but I feel that expiration dates on perishables should end in 09. So the plan was garlic, cream cheese, sour cream, and graham crackers. Sure! The end result was many more things, canned tomatoes for sure and then several other things.
I enjoy grocery shopping more than anything else in my life at present. We are so lucky to live in America with the bounty and variety we have. Food is so inexpensive. I remember my Father telling me what it was like to live in the Great Depression. "When you have to spend fifty percent of what you make for groceries, then you will know what it was like to live in the Depression.". Lately I spend about ten percent of my income on groceries. That may be because I never buy anything pre-made. I bake my own bread and even grind my own hamburger. Another contributing factor may be the way that I eat. I think that I have come to grips with cooking for one. I still have monster pots full of things that just cannot be prepared for one but several things are now under control. There are still things that would feed six but the list is growing shorter. The other thing may be that I still only eat one meal a day. That comes from a lifetime of :
1. Constantly being late for work and therefore skipping breakfast.
2. Being too engrossed in work to notice that I had worked through lunch.
3. Wanting to save room for the delicious suppers that my Wife used to make.
I was raised in a home where there was no eating between meals and when supper was over, the kitchen was closed. We rarely had sweets because my Father's idea of dessert was another piece of fish.
I try to shop for food once a month. Even though I have enough food for the month, after some time I go into grocery shopping withdrawal. So I walk to the store, the walk is probably better for me than the sausages and heavy cream and cheeses I purchase, and pick up a few (HA HA) things. I guess that one of my dreams in life would be to be the food buyer for a soup kitchen. Not a food pantry because all they can stock is canned goods. Leeks and cabbage and asparagus and squash and fresh mushrooms and cheese are not in their larders. It would be so nice to be able to fulfill Oliver's plea.
I have finally faced the fact that I am a natural born recluse. I avoid the hustle and bustle of modern life and spend my time under the reading lamp or at the stove. I traveled extensively when I was younger and no longer feel the lure of the horizon. I have never found a place so attuned to my feelings than Massachusetts ( maybe Cape May New Jersey or Bermuda). I have found few joys in life to match the joy I get from the Kitchenaid Mixer. The joy that I used to get from watching my children grow is a thing of the past. I would give up the mixer to be able to experience that again! I was not a very good Daddy but I loved being a Daddy!

Pizza!

Yesterday was Pizza Day. I felt guilty about making something new but I was tired of soup and spaghetti and meatballs. I make pretty good pizza (I am trapped in Italic and don't know how to get out of it) but never seem to be able to resist putting too many toppings on it. Pepperoni, onion, garlic, mozzerella. asiago, basil, oregano, pepperoncini, olive oil, and sliced tomatoes make for a wonderfully gooey and spicy pizza. Slipped under the broiler for the last few minutes melts and browns the cheeses nicely. Mr. Beck and eleven of his friends came for a visit and the afternoon was pleasantly mellow.
Earlier I had walked to the library and was pleasantly surprised to finally find a book with Jansen's Temptation in it. I will try the temptation. Stomach Beware! Potatoes, onions, cream, and anchovies are in your future. The only thing that my stomach has ever rejected was octopus ( until I learned that you are supposed to scape the black slimy stuff off). I can still hear the laughter of the Portugese waitress. The broiled sardines more than made amends with my stomach and the Shrimp Antonio was its reward ( imagine tiny shrimps and mahogany clams cooked in a heavily garliced marinara sauce, the sauce mopped up with garlic bread).

VIP

The most recent comment has prompted this post. Grandfathers can be tricky. They spent a long time being Fathers and had to learn something. They especially have to be tricky when they have a VIP (Very Intelligent Person) to deal with. I have been through this scenario three times. Each time was remarkably different but each time I learned something. It is easy for me with R because I do not bear the burden of his future. I do not have to worry that if he eats that Snickers bar, he will not go to Harvard or his teeth will all fall out. He is a very VIP and will find ways around rules set in cement. He is also a boy and I understand a little bit about boys. I have been in the crucible three times and still don't understand girls, except for the fact that the four that I experienced were all much smarter than me (not very hard to be). Boys are easy, there is not a whole lot of thinking going on in their lives. Everything is black or white, yes or no, easy or let someone else do it. Therefore they are very susceptible to Tricky! Girls however are full of thinking. The wheels of their minds are constantly turning. They consider the nuances of every situation and how it might affect them. This necessitates the use of Very Tricky. If a Grandfather turns Very Tricky loose on a boy, the boy has no hope. It is a joy to watch R grow and learn the ways of the world. There are three more boys that I would like to introduce to Foxy Grandfather (thank you Vonnegaught) but that remains to be seen if it will ever happen.
By the way Sweetheart, you only picked up on one Tricky Grandfather item. You missed the other two but they will remain a mystery forever.
If you have ever watched Two and a Half Men, I am Alan. My Brother Paul is Uncle Charlie personified. If R is ever exposed to Uncle Paul, he will end up wearing a Nascar jacket and dreaming of horsepower. He would also end up as a very sweet and caring person but you and A seem to have already taken care of the latter two.

Alas poor sauce

Yesterday I made spaghetti sauce. I can't understand how it came out so lackluster. I usually make a decent sauce. There is a balance in the Universe. Usually the soup is not so good and the sauce is yummy. The balance has changed. If I am allowed an opinion on this subject, I would rather have a decent sauce.

Sweet Sorrow

Goodbye fair soup. Parting is such sweet sorrow. The kielbasa is all gone but there is still a gallon of soup left and I am tired of soup. I think that the soup is headed for the trash but there is a fear associated with this decision. I am in the mood to make spaghetti sauce and I know how that will turn out. A gallon of spaghetti sauce and two pounds of sausage and pasta and sauce for five days. I have never learned how to cook for one. There was a time when teenaged daughters would bring home teenaged boys who ate like Biafrans and all was right with the world. Maybe this time I will make meatballs instead of sausage. Even better would be meatballs and sausage. Short ribs would be even nicer but they are rarely at the local market.

Disturbing Dreams

I woke up at 11:30 this evening. It was because I had a very disturbing dream. I have been sitting and thinking about the meaning of the dreams. I think that I have found some reasons for the dreams. There are some issues from my past that have never been properly resolved. It is easy to resolve an issue that was not your fault. It is easy to let an issue lie that was your fault. The issue involved was resolved long ago but not by me. The entire incident was my fault and these dreams say to me "It is over and time to let it go. Accept the closure. You were a jerk and acted like a spoiled child. Be a man about it.".
The soup is getting tiresome. I have to learn to make less than two gallon soups. The cabbage may have been a mistake. It announces its presence early each morning. The zucchini and squash were a good idea but I will have to put more kielbasa in the next one. I have fished all of it out by now.

Soup's On

Sunday was a banner day. My darling daughter and her wonderful husband and my amazing grandson came for a visit. They brought lingonberries!!! We had a nice meal, my grandson complimented on the Swedish meatballs and ate quite a few noodles. There was cake that was a bit too rich. We walked to a park where my grandson displayed an amazing agility climbing and mastering an assortment of challenging obstacles.
When we left the park there was no whining or crying about the fact that the outing was over. He never seems to whine or cry about anything. He is so interested in everything that goes on about him that I am sure he looks forward to the next surprise that life offers him. This is a credit to his Mother and Father for they seem to have the same attitude about life. They don't complain or moan about anything and they gratefully don't seem to gossip about anything. I especially appreciate that because gossip is something that really irritates me. There are enough problems in our lives without commenting on the problems or perturbations of the neighbors. It is something that I admire about each of my daughters. They just get on with the business of living and look for the pleasant little flowers we find along the path of life instead of dwelling upon the thorns.
Yesterday I made soup and, lo and behold, it was actually edible! It is the first time that I have made soup that I actually liked. Homemade soup is usually not very good. The only really good one that I can remember was one that a lost love made with new potatoes and leeks and cream and butter. The soup that I made was not from a recipe. I just emptied all of the vegetables from the refrigerator into a pot, put in baby lima beans, onions, cabbage, tomatoes, potatoes. corn, peas, and beef broth. The addition of kielbasa may have made a difference as I usually don't puy any salt into the soup. Some leftover cheese rinds and olive oil went in and then a blessing of soy sauce as I remembered the words of another lost love. "Kissing a man without a moustache is like a soup without salt.".
Cheese, bread, and soup, life is good. I don't think that I can ever serve such a soup to my grandson as he is not very vegetable prone.