“I want cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes and gravy, potato chips and dip, cheese burgers, and sugar cookies frosted with cream cheese frosting” my granddaughter answered when asked what she wanted for her birthday dinner.
“You might want to think about adding a salad or perhaps another vegetable other than potatoes,” her mother suggested. I, though, thought it a great menu.
Unfortunately, gone are the days of my youth when I could eat a meal of potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes without pounds, pounds, and more pounds settling on my small-boned frame. The word carbs was not in my vocabulary until seven or eight years ago.
Still, it was a great birthday meal even with the addition of a green salad—and I am once again reading labels when I grocery shop. Oh, to be young again.
I thought I could–I thought I could–I thought I could, but, I could not. No, I could not drive eleven hours alone in a car with six boxes of Thin Mints, two boxes of Trefoils, and two boxes of S’mores in the back seat. Could anyone?
I ate breakfast before I left and stopped for a hamburger about five hours into the drive. After ten hours, hunger pains struck. Now, I have survived some major tests and stresses in my life. My gray hair doesn’t come from a bottle. I would not suffer defeat for a cookie.
I was getting a little sleepy when I spotted a good place to stop and check on the cookies. What if they were packed in such a way they might crumble? Sure enough, they were packed in just such a way. To be safe I put a box of Thin Mints on the front seat beside me.
The last hour of my drive flew by quickly, and, so too, did a full sleeve of Thin Mints disappear quickly. In fact, it lasted for only twenty miles. I’m happy to report, though, there were no crumbs left on the car seat.
I host a mini-reunion the Saturday before Easter for my extended family. After dinner, the young children participate in an egg hunt. So, it is time for my personal egg hunt. Each year, I place all those pastel pink, yellow, and green plastic eggs, along with the dark purple, bright orange, and sky blue ones in a large, white trash bag and put them in such an obvious place, I will have no trouble locating them. Yet, each year, I spend a couple of hours searching the house. Once found, I fill the eggs with candy!!!!!!
Unfortunately, on Easter many people will not have plastic Easter eggs filled with candy to hunt. They will not have a tasty spiral-cut ham with cheesy potatoes for dinner. Their homes may be nothing but a pile of rubble. Their families may have been torn apart.
I cannot do much for those in faraway, war-torn countries; those whose families are in turmoil; or those who suffer hunger. Yet, while I’m searching for those plastic eggs, I’ll pray—not for help in finding the eggs—but for those who are hungry, or in need of security and peace. I’ll thank God for my blessings, too.
I often see posts on Facebook demonstrating how to fold a fitted sheet. Unfortunately, I never have a fitted sheet with me at the time, and I learn best by doing. Still once a week, I wish I knew the secret of sheet folding.
After many years of doing laundry, I estimate I have folded, (i.e. wadded up) a fitted sheet approximately 2,704 times. That figure does allow for only changing the sheet once a month those many years I worked full time with four children at home. I’ve also accounted for those many nights one or more of the children battled the stomach flu.
I suppose I’m not too old to learn something new, but it hardly seems worth the effort now. While I hope I’m still years away from any type of assisted living, I suspect the day will come when someone besides me changes the sheets on my bed. In the meantime, it’s pretty exciting to find that missing sock nestled in a corner pocket of a fitted sheet.