Handicap Retreat

My daughter Susan’s Junior High Sunday School class (which I teach) went on a “handicap retreat” last weekend. Each had to experience a handicap, the purpose being to better understand handicapped people.

I knew it was going to be good when I learned at registration that Janelle (our most talkative class member and perhaps the most talkative eighth grader in Green Lake) had to be mute.

Susan was blind for a day. But when Beth was trying to eat her grilled cheese sandwich with her arms tied down, Susan stole a quick peek in time to see her sliding her cheek across the plate in pursuit of the sandwich. Susan guessed that Beth hadn’t eaten many pancakes at breakfast!

Susan missed seeing Heidi fall out of her wheelchair. Apparently Janelle hit a rock while pushing her.

Some people had the handicap of being an “obnoxious normal.” One of them grabbed my blind Susan and pushed her into a pile of wet leaves. So Susan hit her with her cane. That’s my kid!

I’m sure I’ll get to hear all the rest of the wacky tales next Sunday. I don’t know if I want to hear much about the 10 x 10 bedroom with fifteen girls and hairspray so thick that “if you struck a match it would have blown up.” But I probably will.

POTATO PEELER

Weren’t there two potato peelers there before?  I know where I kept them.  And they weren’t there.  Heck, I only needed one.  I think I threw one of them out the other day, but there should be one lying in its intended place in that kitchen drawer!  I looked all over the kitchen and emptied the drawer twice.  No luck.

I do have a habit of throwing things away.  It makes me feel good.  Could I have thrown away the second one, not remembering that I had thrown away the first one?  Maybe it went into the trash can with a bunch of potato peels.  Whatever.

I bought a new one.  A pretty one with a white handle.  About a week later I opened that drawer and there, before my eyes, were two potato peelers lying side by side in the exact place where I keep them.  One new one and one old one.

They’re coming to take me away - hay hay …. hay hay ….

CHRISTMAS COOKIES

I hadn’t made cut-out Christmas cookies since my kids were little (in the last century).  I got out the old, yellowed Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook.  Half way into the job, the electric mixer started shooting sparks.  But I finished without the benefit of modern appliances.

Before you can cut out cookies, you have to let the dough chill.  Two days later I was ready to make cookies - but the dough had turned into a cement blob.

No prog.  The “pecan crisp” recipe looked easy and didn’t have to be chilled.  With my new mixer, I got to work.  They came out of the oven a little flat and definitely not “crisp.”  Maybe my flour wasn’t self-rising flour.  Who knows?

I needed cookies, and I had one foolproof recipe for ginger molasses cookies that I could count on.  It was getting late, so I quickly put it together.  Hmmm.  This dough was mighty liquid.  Never saw it that way before.  Oops.  The recipe just above this one called for three eggs.  This one called for one. 

Again, no prob.  I’ll just add a little flour.  Then another dab of molasses.  The first batch of cookies came out of the oven too dry.  Maybe they needed a little more butter, but I was out of butter.  Years ago, I made them with Crisco and they tasted fine.  Vegetable oil should work.  Oops.  Too much oil.  A little oatmeal should soak up that oil.  I added the rest of the molasses for good luck.  It was still oily, so I added a couple more cups of flour.  The cookies turned out a little tough, but tasted good.  Five dozen cookies later, I went to bed.

The next morning, I bit into a cookie and almost broke my teeth. I threw them all away.  It might be another century before I try baking cookies again!

PARTY TIME!

It was Saturday morning, and I had to prepare two dishes for the Christmas party.  I got out of bed and scanned bean salad recipes on the internet, then went to the grocery store.  Got home and spent a couple of hours making bean salad and pies.

I stopped to Google the address of the party, which I had written on my calendar right beside the note “Xmas party at Terry’s.” 

By the time the pies came out and I made the meringue, I was tired of cooking.  I popped them back into the oven to brown the meringue and set my cell phone alarm for nine minutes.  Fifteen minutes later I remembered the pies.  They were OK, but I wondered why my alarm didn’t go off.  Hadn’t I set it for 4:09 PM?  I checked.  Yep, even got the PM right.  I looked at the oven clock again. It was still 4:00.  Duh!  No, it was 400 degrees!

I stopped to check my calendar for the time of the party.  6:00.  I cleaned up the kitchen, happy that I had about an hour to do something I wanted to do besides cook. 

Then I remembered the party was SUNDAY, not Saturday!  I hope that meringue holds up until then!

THE HUSHPUPPY

"God is in the details, the completely unnecessary miracles sometimes tossed up as stars to guide us . . . . Look hard enough and you'll see them."  Barbara Kingsolver

I ordered barbeque, slaw, hold the puppies.  I love hushpuppies but was on a diet that week.  Eating them in moderation, for me, is out of the question. 

I waited quietly for my plate, determined to be satisfied with just barbeque and slaw, and reminding myself that I would be able to eat hushpuppies in the future.  Boy was I tickled when the waitress put my plate in front of me and there was one hushpuppy on it!  Who read my mind in that kitchen back there?

That hushpuppy was a delicious, guilt-free dessert!  Probably the best Christmas present of the season!