The next morning dawned clear and cold, with a watery sun that I always think of as belonging to March—but it was April. I thought longingly of the early spring flowers at home, the daffodils that had almost gone, and the green of everything.
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My great-great-grandmother Sophronia Bruce always made scalloped oysters for holidays! Her recipe, found in her cookbook, has been passed down through the family, and is a family favorite at all holiday meals! It is an easy, quick casserole, that is really good!
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What do you do with all that left over turkey? One idea is to make a Kentucky Hot Brown!
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Dinner out! With Fred! What a treat! Fred and I climbed in his truck and went to a different Italian restaurant, in another direction. As we walked in, he said, "They have an excellent veal scaloppini!"
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The next morning, after a long nine hour sleep, I awoke with a renewed sense of energy, and a mission in my heart—shopping!
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Charity Cookbook Needs Your Recipes Got a good recipe you don't mind sharing, especially for a good cause? kjmatisz, of the Dining Divas & Guys group is putting together a cookbook for charity. Money raised by purchasing the cookbook on line, will help to feed the homeless!
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Tuesday morning dawned cold and wet, just like Sunday. It took all of my strength to get out of bed and ready for the day. I had been in Great Neck for a week, working fourteen to sixteen hour days, without a day off, and only sleeping four or five hours a night.
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My dreams were troubled that night. I tossed and turned and tossed some more. It was a relief when the alarm rang! A whole new day to mess up! Every day is a fresh start, I thought.
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Sunday morning dawned cold and rainy, with a stinging wind. I bought coffee at the gas station, as usual, shivering as I drove to the well field to relieve the night crew. Brendan and Harry had drawn the night shift again, and were grumpy and tired as I took them their coffee.
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The next morning, a Saturday, the alarm insisted that I awaken at 6 am, as usual. Feeling grateful that I hadn't partaken of more of that wonderful Irish whisky the night before, I crawled out, got ready for the day, and climbed in the monster car in search of breakfast.
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After Danny drove away, it was very quiet in the well field, but for the HMMMMMMMM of Well #3. I parked the monster car down by Well #1, near the main road, where I could watch for guests, and continued with the measuring schedule.
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The next day, all of us learned an established routine.
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Before we go any further in this saga, I must explain that in my small city, we didn't have delis in 1982. I had never seen a deli, and had no idea what a deli was about.
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Danny Laine put me in my car, shaking his head as I added my purse to the stack on the briefcase, and firmly shooed me away to the hotel for food and rest. By this time, I was famished, so I stopped at the gas station to get gas, and to hopefully find something to eat.
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On 11 a.m., November 11, 1918, Armistice was signed, ending the Great War, the War to End All Wars. It was the eleventh hour, of the eleventh day, of the eleventh month. Seven years later, in 1926, President Woodrow Wilson, signed an Executive Order naming Nov.
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It was just after 11 pm, and I had been on the job for 13 hours, after two nights fitful sleep with the cockroaches, and had a long way to go. Tired as I was, I had to go take another round of measurements.
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The sun was shining brightly through the bones of the trees, and it was very quiet in the well field, as I made my rounds. Every hour, I had six wells to measure, some of them up in the surrounding hills and underbrush, and three samples to collect and analyze.
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The next morning, the alarm beeped even earlier, and I needed a crow bar to pry myself out from under the covers.
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Leaving the restaurant, I was feeling much better due to the coffee, breakfast, and blessing. I wondered if anyone in the city would be able to understand my long, drawling way with words, or if I was going to be condemned to wander around the city, using sign language.
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The next morning, my travel alarm started beeping at 6 am NYC time, which is 5 am Owensboro time. I had just begun to sleep well—typical.
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Before I get too far along on the Long Island Expressway, let me explain something. My small city had one four-lane road through the middle of the city, and a four-lane bypass, with no traffic on it.
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While standing in line at the rental car office, I noticed that everything was moving along with a minimum of fuss. Various businessmen went to the desk, handed over their sheaf of papers, signed a few dotted lines, were given their keys, and left to get their car.
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Long about the shank end of the 1970's, I decided that, despite society's insistance on women's place in the home, my professor's predictions of gloom, and my mother's bitter tears, I was going to be a geologist.
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Have you ever noticed how appliances wait until you get just a little money ahead—not much, say $200—and then they break or fail to the tune of at least $250?
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Yams or sweet potatoes is a staple for every Thanksgiving Dinner, if only because it is a traditional dish. Yet, sometimes, they are not eaten by the family because the "old" recipes have become tired staples. Try this, as a way to 'dress up' a traditional holiday dish!
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