Sometimes at mixers people just can't quite get it right. Did he think he was being clever? Too nervous to say what he tried? I overheard this on TV:
He: Has anybody ever told you I have the most beautiful eyes?
She just turned away to talk with somebody else. It wouldn't leave me. There should have been a comeback. Perhaps, "Awwwww, no, but maybe someday you can pay someone a big enough bribe to actually get them to say that about you."
Lucky me, I've avoided getting one for years. Yesterday I woke up in the middle of the night with an extremely sore throat, enough that my muddled mind started inventing causes for it. None of them made sense. I take that as a sign.
By morning it was a fairly normal sore throat, with the bonus that my voice had dropped a good octave. It was enough that anybody hearing me who knows me were immediately alerted to what's going on. Steve knew without my saying a more than "Good Morning". My PCA client over the phone immediately agreed that I should not visit her and share it - she has plenty of health issues without any assistance in acquiring more. My only concern there is there is up to a 3 day incubation, and I was there Monday, feeling fine, but possibly contagious. Or possibly I picked it up later.
There's the usual stuffy nose now, with kleenex boxes in high demand. I'd shopped for a bunch over a year ago, and it finally looks like they will need replacing before the weekend. Of course there is a huge supply of fast-food napkins in the car door pockets I could grab, but it's DAMN FRICKING COLD! out there today, as cold as we're had since moving back north. The lakes are even iced over - lightly - but early. Probably safe for squirrels to walk on if they are stupid enough to emerge from snug nests, but everything else recently on it - swans and geese - has flown south. The throat isn't so sore, thankfully, but the voice is still low enough for gender confusion over the phone with a stranger.
Coughing has started, light so far. The good news there is I make a habit of stocking up on sugarless cough drops, and just opened the first of 4 bags this morning. There are still a couple of emptied pill bottles stuffed full of them for easy transport in a purse without spilling all over creation... but just currently not in my purse. Where? Sigh. Our pharmacy provides fatter bottles for larger pills, great to reuse for cough drops, and ones I can actually open. It takes Steve's hands to open his pill bottles so I don't use them, except to dump collections of sharps in to throw out where they won't cause any problems. I have all kinds of uses for smaller pill bottles I can actually open, once the labels are peeled off.
On the plus side for this cold, I have been getting more sleep, eyes drooping earlier and opening later. Just to stay warm, and avoid struggling with my shoulders, my PJs currently are sweats and polar fleece, since without them plus a blanket I'm chilled and don't warm up. I'm sure they'll be rank by the time I'm ready to go out in public again, but that'll be a few days. I promise I'll change by then.
I have to call a few people I've had contact with the last couple of days, pre-symptoms, just for a warning. They are all younger and should brush it off without problems, but one is caring for a parent just post surgery and may wish to take precautions. I did give her a hug, after all.
Meanwhile I'm not even heading out to bring the recycle bin back from the street, despite strict rules here for doing so. There's a fresh inch of snow that fell yesterday and still sits on everything here including stairs and car, no footprints anywhere, so somebody might figure out we have a reason for leaving it another day or so.
Meanwhile this has been a 5 tissue, three cough drop post, and I'm ready for a nap.
This one is totally new to me. In all the years (29) where driving was my career as an independent contractor (IC) I bought so many cars new, straight off the lot that I've mostly lost track. The company I contracted with required undamaged vehicles, no rust, or any thing else which might give their customers reason to believe we weren't trustworthy. Their solution was to mandate replacement after 5 years. With the amount of driving I was doing, that often involved well over 300,000 miles on a vehicle. Total driving for the career was over 2 million. One car went to 400,000. I turned that car over to my sons, and one promptly rolled it. Oh well. His loss.
Minnesota attack deer took out a couple. The last replacement was after I got rear-ended by a school bus while I was stopped at a red light. (Go read Dec. 10, 2013 post for details. Or not.) School bus insurance companies have really good insurance! I still drive the replacement, 12 years later.
Cars age two ways, in my experience. One is accumulated damage, rendering them eventually undriveable. The other is the toll of age (without shelter). Rust, dust, sun, cold, wear on the parts... all get their chances to attack. A car can simply sit and eventually fall apart. This current car only had about 65,000 miles on it before I retired. After that, it went south in winter, north in summer, and otherwise did a whole lot of sitting and very short drives, whether in wet northern summers or in dusty southern winters. Haboobs and hot sun take their tolls, even if it spent ten years avoiding ice and snow. Arizona is hell on rubber. One result is oil leaks requiring expensive replacements.
I'm not sure of the precise cause of the latest issue, whether something rusted, got gooped up, cracked, or what have you. My seat belt has been getting more and more difficult to click and release. The part coming from the frame by the door has gotten stubborn, requiring me to pull it out enough to slip my shoulder in it, then rock forward, unwinding a bit more belt, rock back to take up the slack, and repeat as long as necessary so I can pull the buckle pieces together. I'm sure anybody watching is thinking about some oversized butterfly nets for the crazy lady.
If that were the only issue, no biggee. But getting it into the buckle between the seats has gotten so difficult that (my bad shoulder of course) has a royal struggle getting it down in to latch. When I have Steve next to me, he can do it, but still with trouble. It does stay latched, and it is only a little less of an issue separating the parts again.
I called the dealership, asking for a price quote on replacing the two parts of the driver's belt. I'd read on line I should expect around $400 to $600 for the set. The dealership came back with $1000!!!!! Just for the driver's side!
No thanks!
Colder weather has settled in, making the belt more of an issue. I was discussing it with a family member who - bless her - saw the issue more clearly than I did. How about getting seat belt extenders, put then on once and leave them, then hook into the new ends?
DUH !!!!!
Now Steve has been suggesting getting an extender for his side of the car. I never even thought of doing it for both. But it's gotten more urgent now since I can no longer get my bad shoulder to exert the pressure needed to attach or release mine. I figure, put them on both seats, and the "working" parts will be new and presumably functional. Just put them in and leave them. I could even put tape around the part I want to be sure to remember not to use, like I had to with the parking brake a couple months back. It did take a while, but I actually weaned myself of the habit of reaching to pull the brake over the time it took to get the car into the shop. I can do it again! (BTW the habit to set the brake has returned. I do notice I'm doing it now however.)
I called a national parts chain with a local branch. They had lots of extenders but... none for my car. I called the dealership parts department... and the manufacturer never made one for my model. I went online for a search and found some cheap ones at Walmart... that don't look like the shape of my buckles. Hmmm, maybe too cheap is not the way to go. OK, I tried nationally... and found a site that asks very specific questions about year, model, and which precise location it needs to fit - one for every different seat in the car.They also offered two varieties, a short rigid one, or a longer flexible one, only 2 inches difference between them. This inspired more confidence. The fact that they gave color choices, black or grey, made no difference. I don't care about color, just safety.
I ordered a pair, paid for faster shipping. I don't need to be stuck somewhere trying to decide between safety by torturing my shoulder, or only going places where somebody can put the belt together for me on both ends of the trip. I did the latter last night, with Steve doing it at home, then meeting my son Paul at a Fleet Farm to buy warm winter gloves for him as an early Christmas present. He does come and shovel for us after all, and gets paid for it. He'd mentioned cold hands after finishing his own driveway first the other day. After getting him two different kinds of gloves, (quality check), I had him walk me to the car, get in the passenger side for a moment, and fasten my seat belt before I drove home. Even he had problems!
But I did manage to get out of it after some work once home. It beats having to ask Steve to get dressed for the cold and come out.
Now we wait....
It was our delayed Thanksgiving get-together, postponed till Saturday because several members of the combined extended family had to work on the actual holiday. No biggie, right? We could hold it practically any time, though getting the most of us together made it more special.
But this is Minnesota, and there is a pattern in my previous Thanksgivings that stuff happens. I'm talking mostly weather. If something is planned, it gets super cold, heavy snow, dead heat tapes under a mobile home, plugged plumbing, a sick cat emergency (fatal), or what have you. Not all at once of course, and with placid holidays in between. But I never took Thanksgivings for granted when I was the person hosting. Now if we just had to drive a few miles to some relative, or even more than a few, nothing ever happened that I was made aware of.
This time it was snow. Or at least that's how it started. We'd just gotten over a snowstorm days earlier that started with rain, then freezing temperatures, and I made sure to keep home, warm, and safe for that, despite it being the official holiday. We already had plans for Saturday anyway, in order to accommodate the most possible people in our home. Too many had to work Thursday. After the ice and snow I didn't even bother to consider heading out for Black Friday, aside for a couple last minute food purchases for the next day.
The headcount of those planning to come topped out at 22, including us. Some of the advanced food prep was done, the turkey was thawing in the fridge, house messes were getting cleaned up, and I was heavy into the planning stage. Did we have all the needed food groups represented? Now remember, on this holiday above all others, desert is a vital food group. There were a lot of food choices planned that were not on my personal approved diet list, but there still was enough that nobody, least of all me, was going to starve. We were among the lucky this year.
A much more important question was where on earth were we going to put them? It wasn't just tables and chairs, but children were included and despite being a quarter of our sizes, they take up 4 times the space and produce 8 times the volume, especially if they're having fun. I had planned ahead by keeping a series of boxes out of the recycle stream until after everybody went home. It's amazing what three to five young children - depending on who all came - can find to do with free rein over a conglomeration of empty boxes when nobody cared what condition the boxes are in when they left for home, but only how much fun they could invent while destroying them. I have a family source for cardboard boxes ready to be thrown out, and I'm promised a resupply before end of December.
Once the turkey was out of the oven, sitting on the kitchen island resting before being carved, other baking and cooking commenced in a flurry of activity. My work was mostly done until carving time rolled around. Somebody cooked and mashed potatoes, another made gravy, yet another cooked venison fresh from hunting season in some technique with an unpronounceable name I haven't heard on all the TV cooking shows Steve watches. The judicious application of juniper berries was a delightful bonus. Hungry people waiting as patiently as possible were pacified with some banana bread /chocolate chip /walnut snacks, mostly resuming their conversations.
I'd known there was much to do last minute. The turkey had to be baked, the house cleaned, dishes washed and counters given that final scrub so food, plates and utensils could be laid out in usable locations. But even before that I had to spend what, due to predicted snow and unexpected side trips, became a 3 hour round trip to pick up Steve's daughter Maria since her car is in the shop and she was coming over to help clean so the total burden of that didn't fall on us.
Naturally I did the night before what I always do before a big day, obsessed over all the details. This translates into getting 3 hours of sleep. Some times I get luckier and pull another hour out of nowhere. Make a mental note: this figures in later. I was fine to drive in the morning after a light snack and my morning mug of coffee. Due to snow, I topped up the gas tank before leaving town, tucked an extra coat in the back seat, and brought along some of my stuffing muffins for Maria's mom who doesn't travel in this kind of weather, so she'd get a taste of what would be in a goodie bag at the end of the evening. She'd miss the conversations and the chaos, but no need to miss the meal. Maria lives in the same apartment building with her and helps take care of her, years after a stroke which keeps her mom in a wheelchair. She won't visit us since we have no ramp. Occasionally the extended family has get-togethers in that building's party room so she doesn't miss all the fun. It's a long trip for most.
Once home, the work resumed. We'd seen the first flakes as I picked up Maria, exactly as the forecasters had predicted, few and far between. The storm was mostly the southern part of the state and Iowa, with a possibility of 3 inches for where we'd be partying, and possible 18 in southern Iowa. One of the TV weathermen started in the middle of Minnesota and said for every 50 miles going south, add an inch of snowfall. His math didn't quite add up, but at least our roads should be quite drivable.
Of course, most guests were coming from as far as the south end of the metro. The cancellation calls started coming in. First, the couple bringing deviled eggs pulled out. (Steve had really been waiting for those!) Bad tires for the expected snow. Then a fellow who was fairly local but who doesn't drive at night due to his vision. We'd already arranged to put him up on the couch overnight and keep him until he had good morning light and presumably much better roads. He'd gotten out of his driveway on his way to pick up pies to bring them (not a cook but he buys great pies!). He turned around after seeing how crazy other drivers were. He didn't feel safe at all. OK, so no pies... except for the little pecan one I picked up on a whim the day before when I went out to get Steve's potatoes. If we had everybody here, as originally planned, we'd need a third pie for desert, but nobody wound up eating pie. It still sits on the counter.
Then we got a call from another family of four. They don't drive much, mostly take the city bus, so handy where they live, and she worried both about driving in snow and dark. We'd already arranged to turn over my bedroom to them, knowing they had two sleeping bags for the kids who were used to camping already, and I have a bathroom attached to it. So there went the dinner rolls.
Before you think I don't care about more than the food, as hostess I was trying to figure what was important, where gaps could be filled. It turned to to be unimportant, since every food contribution arriving had been sized for a group of 22. We told everybody we knew their safety was important, we'd miss them, and work on getting together over the coming holidays. Meanwhile Steve helped other logistical planning by counting heads remaining - or perhaps seats, since there were folding tables and chairs to be arranged. Two more carfuls were unaccounted for, so he and I both made phone calls. Some adult grandkids from Wisconsin pulled out due to the roads where they were (Italian noodle salad), but the family from the farthest south part of the metro were packing up the kids and getting on their way, and my daughter and her husband would be here soon with the venison. And would be making gravy from turkey drippings for the mashed potatoes Steve was doing. And bring a desert of apple/sweet potato crumble. My youngest wasn't even called because he lives only 5 miles away. So the cranberry fluff salad from his grandmother's recipe would be here, in addition to a shovel-pushing helper, and a surprise banana bread with chocolate chips and walnuts would be set out for an appetizer while guests awaited the the final cooking.
We wound up with a pleasant surprise additional guest, a friend of Maria's who'd been here several times as well as at other extended-family events. Of course we had room! Even if nobody had cancelled, there'd been enough tables and chairs to take care of everybody. She was at loose ends for the day, lived only about 14 miles away. She loves the swans that collect on the lake this time of year, usually staying until just before the lake freezes over before they fly all the way south, if one year's experience here counts. My son had announced as he came in the door that there were about 35 near our end of the lake, in addition of course to the Canada geese which also hang out this time of year. As soon as our additional guest arrived and greeted us, she and Maria walked down to the shore to see the swans.
It might have been a mistake. Not that we'd know about it until later. We might never have proof.
The house was about to get noisy. We have great-grandkids! Three are in the one family who came with kids, only their oldest in school yet. They are why I collected boxes for the party, from just big enough to hold whatever while small enough to pop into others, to big enough to be climbed inside of for whatever the reason of the minute is, and in one case, to get folded into a recliner chair after adding a second box as a footstool. They had a whole open room to play in, since the adults were much fewer than planned and folding tales and chairs stayed folded along a wall.
I know people who hate noisy kids. I divorced one of them. These kids were the sound of joy. Very few things in the room were denied them, one being a lighter which had been overlooked during cleanup. I knew from their last visit that the youngest was fascinated by a curio cabinet keeping him from playing with pueblo pottery, particularly several storytellers, each unique and irreplaceable, treasured if not actual treasures. Last winter he had to be pulled away from it repeatedly while he tried to open the doors. This time I took some left over packing tape and secured the lower door shut in a couple places. He can look all he wants and enjoy them. When he's old enough to figure out how to remove the tape put on again for any future visits, he'll be old enough to understand "No" much better. All three kids did get to listen to the ocean in a large conch shell they will inherit some year, and the reactions were unanimous: giggling! But the boxes claimed their attention again back in the large room. My daughter and granddaughter were there to catch up on news and enjoy/supervise them, so I returned to the kitchen. Still stuff to be done there.
There was a moment when I simply had to excuse myself from the food prep activity and go sit down, I was overworked and overheated. It was noticed. I was brought some ice water, and when serving started a minute later, I was provided a plate of my choices from the supply line. A bit later, even though I recovered to normal quickly, Maria announced she wasn't going to ask me to drive her home as we had planned. She knew I'd gotten about three hours of sleep the night before, and snow was still accumulating, making the trip even longer. She'd talked to her friend who agreed to take her instead, since she already lived in that direction. We offered something for her extra gas, since I was planning on springing for that with my car anyway. Everything was settled. Riiiighhhht! Uh huh, sure, it's always that easy.
Even with the cancellations there was a large representation of foods, and nobody felt any lack of variety. The great grands had gone early, and conversation continued for quite some time. The food brought was either eaten, sent home with various people including as care packages, or left here as care packages and put in our fridge. We finally had to enlist my son to rearrange the fridge to fit everything in without squishing or dumping things.
People were getting ready to go home. Or so we had planned.
The friend providing the ride I was relieved from doing started rummaging thorough her purse for her keys. Then her jacket, one of those with zipper pockets inside and out every few inches. No keys! Now the house got searched, along with the path the two used outside for smoking breaks, than back into the house and the boxes the kids had played with, the crevices in every single piece of furniture, floors underneath, the trash just in case, and then the hunt started over, and repeated another time. I called my granddaughter, now at home, and asked if by any chance her kids had found them at some point and played with them, possibly even bringing them home. Nope.
Outside was examined. We knew the keys were removed from the car, since my son was outside when her car rolled up and he heard the key fob beep as it was locked. That didn't stop everybody from trying to figure out some way, any way, they could have gotten locked in the car. Yes, I know, but after nearly an hour, desperation was setting in. She had been pulling things from the back seat... maybe after the beep?
The sidewalk was checked out, plus beyond its paved edges, since that had gotten swept of snow earlier. Could they have fallen along the edge and gotten buried under a broomful? Could they have fallen under the edge of the car in the snow after beeping the doors locked and now be covered over? Flashlights were brought out and another hunt began. No results.
One persistent question never laid to rest was concerning the walk down to the lake to watch the swans. Had they fallen out of whichever pocket they might have been put in, either on the way to/from, or once there waking around off the street area? Our guest was becoming more and more upset and everything we tried, even the second and third times, brought up the negative answer. She stressed it wasn't just the loss of the keys - there were fixes for that... eventually. But there was something on that key ring which was a rare sentimental treasure from a deceased beloved parent, and she didn't have many of those.
Eventually we quit looking for the keys and started problem solving for getting her car on the road... so I could eventually get mine out. She could at least get into her house if she could break into her car and get the garage door opener. My son volunteered to drive her home and back - in the only set of usable wheels left until her car was moved. There was a second set of keys there, though she'd have to ask where once she got there. The plan first though was to locate a wire coat hanger to open the door. The closest one was at my son's house. When he returned with one, it wasn't working as well as advertised.
Next and last resort was to call the county officer's night shift, explain the problem, and ask them to come open the car, after sufficient ID was proffered, of course. Never mind the little Catch-22 of her having her wallet with ID tucked in its secret hiding place... inside the locked car. They got enough information over the phone to come over promptly with a gizmo to unlock her door. Or try anyway. Maybe he was new on the job or hadn't graduated to his uniform out of a juvie background stealing cars. At least enough jiggling around of car door innards was done to result in the car alarm going off. I was informed, when people came inside to warm up a bit, that neighbors - an unspecified number - had called in an attempted car theft. I guess nobody actually looked out to notice the first squad car. They apparently stopped calling once the second squad rolled in.
Meanwhile the (rookey?) had stopped trying and my son decided to try the coat hanger again. Between the three of them, the door was opened, the car battery disconnected to stop the alarm... eventually, as some special sort of needed ratchet was provided to accomplish something else needed to get everything done until a real key appeared. My son paid close attention for the anticipated restart later. No point calling them back. Now at least she had her garage opener and wallet with drivers license, so when she returned with her spare key she could legally drive. That trek took over another half hour on bad roads, and - of course, since Murphy lives forever - reconnecting the battery under the hood once they got that lifted while there was enough battery life left to find the cable -(but only just enough, so put half a dozen D cells on the shopping list) - they had to turn the car alarm off again by using the key the system recognized.
Whew! Who knew car theft was so complicated? Oh wait, I'm not giving away any secret techniques here, am I? Just in case, DO NOT STEAL CARS! Yes, that includes you. So don't start!
This morning I managed to verify everybody who left our house made it home safely, even if hours later than planned. As snow melts, I will be checking for a stray set of keys to show up. I'll also put a notice on the mailroom bulletin board if they are found as to who's looking for them. At least here when they plow they don't take the snow away, just wait for spring melt. If the keys are in there, eventually they should show up. I hope so.
Way back when, you know, those years when I was in a support group learning how to identify my own feelings, hopefully to form better, more healthy relationships, while healing from an abusive one, "codependency" was a bad thing. You wanted to learn to avoid it. It meant you were so dependent on the relationship with another that you didn't even know who you were without it.You were merely reactive to whatever and however the other person felt and acted.
Many years have passed, those goals reached, Steve and I have a very loving, healthy relationship. But let me repeat: many years have passed. We're not spring chickens any more. Our bodies have been discovering many ways to age ungracefully, non-functionally, often painfully.
Recently we have rewritten the "rule" about codependency being a bad thing. In terms of simply coping with life, we are figuring out how to fill each other's gaps, if you will. The most obvious is our bodies have aged in different ways, but together we can accomplish what one used to. In Steve's case, he has difficulties in reaching things low on the ground or floor. A grabber stick - and there are three in the house - can only cope with certain kinds of things. But I have kept the flexibility to bend over and reach the floor to pick things up which still need fingers to accomplish. What is painful for him is just normal motion for me.
On the other hand, I have extreme difficulty reaching things up high, and the definition of "how high is high" keeps changing for me. But Steve can still do that easily. In that sense, we have become codependent. Both of us not only need the other, but are happy we can do things for the other. Even beyond our affection, it's just nice to still feel useful in some ways.
Of course the downside is knowing we have to deal with the lack of the other on what - fortunately - are still rare occasions. But the knowledge hovers out on the margins that for one of us that day will come when we are no longer "we" but merely "the remaining half of we". What we can no longer do by ourselves will have to get done some other way or not at all.
This got driven home earlier this week. Steve had to go to the ER for a still unidentified pain. All the tests run were ambiguous. Not ruling things out, just not giving answers. He was kept overnight for observation, given some great pain control via IV, and another test was scheduled for the next day. I finally went home for some sleep, to return the next morning. This, of course, bumped into one of the things I can't do easily (meaning without extreme pain and possible dislocation) by myself, especially in cold weather.
I can only partially dress myself these days. In summer the layers are single, the sleeves shorter, the movements required much easier. In cold weather I dress in layers, long sleeves under other long sleeves. They have friction against each other that cloth across skin doesn't. I get as far as head through the neck and hands to the ends of the sleeves... and there I'm stuck in a contorted bundle of fabric. My shoulders snag everything, the sleeves twist, my head catches the back of the collar, and I go marching off in a contorted position looking like a warped scarecrow to find Steve. He sees what needs to get pulled where while I can hold the inside sleeves in place at my wrists. We both laugh as much as you would watching us, because it is so silly, but together it gets done and I'm ready to go face the world, even if that world is only fixing breakfast and coffee and watching the morning news. It might also be work, or some medical appointment, or shopping.
I was facing a morning of no Steve, and I was the one with the car to get him home. There was only one solution: don't get undressed! Fortunately my top set of layers are loose and comfortable. Being a geezer, I have frequently taken naps during the day in front of the TV or with my laptop open and... waiting. No tight spots, no irritations, unlike other parts of my wardrobe. Now remember that I have no problems reaching low things, so I easily exchanged sweatpants for PJ bottoms, and had a solid night's sleep. My top outer layer was loose polar fleece, so no wrinkles to show, and fortunately no dirt. It even still held the sticky-badge that got me back inside the ER to visit Steve early in the morning. I'd needed it the previous evening when I left in search of supper while the staff kept dithering for hours about what to do with Steve that evening. Not only were there no rooms available for admitting him, the ER was also full.We'd already waited for three hours that morning from walking in the doors to getting a spot in the ER.
I returned to the ER the next morning after having breakfast and packing real food to have during the day as needed so I could stay with Steve. I got greeted with the news they were sending him home! His pain had disappeared overnight, fortunately, and none of the tests pointed to anything to fix. We were out of there in the time it took to print up findings and recommendations, and remove his IV line. He's still pain free a day later, catching up on real sleep he missed, and eating normal things for him. I'm catching up on missed TV shows via the DVR, and following the snow news, grateful to be home hours before any of that started here, and determined to be staying out of it until I can get somebody to come shovel for us... after it stops later
There will be much to be thankful for this holiday. And that absolutely includes our codependency.
Whoa, whoa, settle down. It's mostly a joke, and my apologies to anybody who needed a trigger warning - though if you needed one you've likely already skipped this post. But these days it's how I describe the several days of intense cooking prep needed in order to make my current version of stuffing muffins. Too many parts of me ache, and will continue for a while. The name is my reminder to question before the next time I undertake these whether it's really worth it. I happen to love those little boxed microwave meals, or mixing yogurt and fruit, or making a sandwich.... Steve is the cook in this family.
So far the family says it is worth MY work to make these. But a word of warning here - real warning. If you're starting now to make these for Thanksgiving yourself, you're already too late, unless you come up with a lot of adaptations. You might make it for Christmas, if you serve turkey and stuffing then. Or even Easter, the third time of the year I bother to do a turkey for. Or did.
Mostly if I want bird, it's the already cooked rotisserie chickens available in a lot of stores, still hot and served in a plastic bag. I will buy these throughout the year, and that's my start for making this stuffing. Once everybody's had their favorite pieces of the birds, there will be skin, juice, and meat left on the bones to deal with. I'll freeze a couple bags of the unwanted stuff, then haul them out and pop into a slow cooker (in lieu of a stew pot.) Add water to cover everything, and simmer through the day. Strain the bits through a colander or whatever stands up to the heat, and pop that broth into a container to freeze. Then you separate out the bits of meat - carefully! - and again, freeze those, and pop the rest in the garbage. Doing this throughout the year gives you stock and meat, once thawed. I hope you have a large enough freezer. It also works to include your turkey carcass(es). We bought a second freezer. This is labor intensive, but spread out through the year, even my shoulders hold up to it... mostly. I usually give them a few days off from other heavy tasks before and afterwards. But that's just me. You do you.
I do not add salt anywhere in the process - pretty much everything already has plenty. But if your taste buds need more salty flavor, or even more bird flavor, that time in the cooker before cleaning and freezing can be an opportunity to add chicken bouillon. Salt is variable in the brands.
The next big task is shopping. You need a huge pan for mixing this batch, but bowls usually aren't big enough, or are tippy, so I use the graniteware turkey roaster I inherited from my mom. You can still buy them, even if the stores try to sell everybody flimsy aluminum pans which won't hold a turkey without dropping it on the floor if you're not careful. You'll also need several muffin pans, whatever basically fills two shelves in your oven completely, so you can get by with the fewest number of cycles of baking, saving power and $$. Then stock up on cupcake papers, more than what you think you'll need. When decorated ones are available, they can be festive. Or just pick colors that look appetizing. (So far I've never seen a design with a screaming terrified turkey on it. No, that's not a suggestion. Just an observation.)
During the year I look for sales on certain things that store well, like craisins, aka dried cranberries. I used to be able to find orange flavored ones, but haven't seen them in stores for a long time. So I make sure to pick up a can of frozen OJ pulp, and somewhere in my stores of equipment will have kept a largish container with a lid that can hold the dried fruit, the can of OJ, and just a half- can-full of water. I like to concentrate the OJ flavor that the dried cranberries soak up a couple days ahead of baking time, so that's all the water I add despite directions for making juice. If you're stuck with pre-made OJ, even as fussy as I am, I'd use it anyway. This recipe process is adaptable as it has to be. ( My daughter hates that. She want's measurements! Really, just add more sage!)
Given lots of freezer space, I shop ahead for bread. Not just any bread. For those who can't have gluten, good luck finding the kind that works for you, or find your own substitute carbs to soak up the flavors. For each batch of stuffing, I get a 1 1/2 pound loaf of whole wheat, and a 1 pound loaf of cinnamon raisin bread. (I might add more of the latter.) Unlike a lot of recipes, I do not just throw together dried heels of bread. This is fresh and stays fresh. When I have the time, but at least a week ahead of the big event, I tear each loaf into bits, pour them back into the bags they came from, seal it back up and put it back in the fridge or freezer until the day before cooking. If you want to start in July for November, no problem, Just keep it sealed. Try not to squish the bags of crumbs between then and using. They have a lot to absorb ahead of them.
There is shopping that you'll want/need to do much closer to cooking time, including herbs, eggs, celery, onions, and butter. For each 2 1/2 pounds of bread, you'll need to chop and saute either a large yellow onion, or their equivalent, in butter or margarine. I also - separately - do the same with a celery heart or the same amount in long stalks. I start with the onions since I like the flavor when they brown. Celery just doesn't brown and takes much longer anyway. I give its pan its own butter/equivalent. Each full recipe usually gets 1 to 2 sticks of whichever I have on hand, divided between the two veggies as needed. In poor years, budget wise, I've used onion flakes instead of fresh, and celery seed or beau monde instead of fresh. I don't work with garlic so that's always powder. Not salt.
Each thing that gets added to the bread crumbs gets mixed in thoroughly. Each moist addition gets the mix a bit more messy, so paper towels are handy. I did experiment with chopped pecans but they weren't that popular. No biggie, more for me in other uses. Next to last are the spices. A lot of people like and have fresh ones. I don't. They spoil before I get to them. I like garlic powder, powdered thyme, rosemary after torturing it in a mortar and pestle to break them and release flavor. They are such hard little things. But by far the most important is sage. If you taste your mix (before you add the eggs) your sage will seem stronger than it is after baking. Some years it seems just right, others it tends to disappear by the time it's cooked and eaten.
I save the eggs for last, always. 6 of them well beaten go into the mix and like everything else, mixed by hand. (Again, paper towels are handy. You will be really goopy.) It's the only way to be sure everything is evenly distributed. Being raw is why tasting happens before the eggs go in. The reason they go in at all is they keep everything together in the muffin cups. Otherwise all you get are crumbs.
One batch makes around 4 to 5 dozen, depending on how full you fill each cup. I like to pat the raw stuffing gently down into each paper liner where everything is touching the adjacent pieces. You can pile it so it's flat across the top or mounded. If it's flat it will bake for about 30 minutes at 350. If rounded, give it 35. If any spots in the tins are empty, fill them half full of water so the tins don't warp. When they are cool, I pop the muffins back into the bread bags I emptied and twist tie the ends to keep them moist, whether for a few hours on the counter, or days in the fridge, or even weeks/months in the freezer. They do last well that way, though a bit of a warm-up is nice. I generally figure on having two for every guest. Some will ignore them, others will take more and work to sneak a few out with them after the meal. Once I know they really like them I plan ahead for gift-packages for them if the meal is at my house, or just leave them behind with whoever the host is, bags and all, keeping my serving plate/bowl. I have learned to leave some in the home freezer before anybody ever sees one, because we both love them and each one is essentially a tiny complete meal in itself. (But shhh, don't tell them there might be more!)
Meanwhile I just pulled out the last of the batch of what started with 6 pounds of bread yesterday to cool. We each had two muffins last night for supper and two just now for lunch. I'll need to dig up a few extra bags as some will be going home with people after a very big dinner this weekend. I'm only doing turkey and stuffing. The rest is pot luck.
Oh, and this year, for Christmas.... Steve is baking a ham! Next turkey day - as there is a second turkey in the freezer - I'll think about doing this again... really, really, really hard! (And more sage next time.)
The morning after can be a much better time to assess injuries from a fall. The emotions have worn off, parts moved - or not so much - and sleep quality can provide better information.
Within a couple hours I knew one foot had issues. After much discussion with myself, plus rereading the label, I added a second Tylenol to my evening dose. I still limp, but the pain is on the outside of the foot about an inch behind the toes. I also am not going anywhere - not one more step - without shoes with the proper arch supports in them, though technically this isn't in the arch. But with the arch supported properly, the rest of my foot is getting less play with each step. Morning meds again doubled the Tylenol, and we'll see how it goes. Steve worries that I need to go to the ER. What are they going to do? Diagnose a break, worst case, put me in a cast and pretend I'm capable of using crutches with my shoulders?
Riiiiight! That'll work. Uh-huh, no problem. Maybe next year, eh?
Of all the bumps it's the only one still vying for attention. If I push around hard enough I can locate a bruise on my forehead that's too small to even color the skin. It's a classic case of, "Does it hurt when I do this?" Followed immediately by "Well, then, don't do that, dummy!"
I did locate a tiny landing spot on my right elbow overnight. Not even worth a bandaid, and barely worth the astonishment that, again, the parts of me that went down hardest aren't the ones that hurt. Maybe it's padding on the side that landed first. Maybe I actually did lose some memory of the event during the event. You do read that it can happen. I'm not going to worry about it, just assess the now of it, and decide if any action needs to be taken. The only thing that occurs is possibly putting an extra arch support in the one shoe to help keep weight off and add stability when I walk, which will be as little as I can get away with. There is always the consideration of how long the walk is from my recliner to the bathroom, right? Plus we're supposed to be getting a package today in the mail, so I'll have a reason to check out any possible impediments to my driving. I won't be walking there and back.
On the other hand, I did call the local police station this morning to talk to their captain. I wanted to be sure they knew how impressed we were with the way (turns out his name is Zachary) performed last night. Everything was spot on. His concerns were appropriate to the occasion, his ability to listen was perfect in hearing my specific needs, and his solution in the lift was an amazing show of strength without bravado. He made sure I was OK before he left and dismissed the ambulance. When I finished talking with his captain, she informed me that my commendation would go into his file.
Steve and I both think he earned it.
