The Memory of Food

Food, food, food, if there is one thing cruises are known for, it is food; and, we ate a lot of it.

When eating, conversation tend to veer to food.  Favorite foods, not so favorite, what we, as children, ate, and so forth ... lots of food talk. 

One night, while on the cruise, one of the appetizer selections was pate.  Pate, with a funny line above the "e", except I don't know how to do those funny characters on my keyboard ... or any other keyboard for that matter.

Sorry, I digress.

One of our table mates ordered the pate, because she had never had it, and asked if we had.  "Yes", I reply, my mother used to make it.

Didn't every one's mother make pate?  It was her "thing" for parties.  Most mothers make pigs in a blanket or jello salad, my mother makes pate.

It is at this point I usually volunteer that my favorite cheese, as a child, was brie.

As if my childhood didn't already sound weird, I need to add to my culinary oddness.  Most kids eat American Cheese, the presliced, individually wrapped cheese, or Velveeta.  No, my favorite cheese was brie.  I'm not even sure how I became exposed to the cheese.  When I admit that piece of information I try to explain it with a shrug of my shoulders, and stating that we used to live in England.  Not that my locality at the time has anything to do with it.

Salt and Vinegar crisps were my favorite brand of potato chips.  Yes, "crisps", because I lived in England for 5 years, and until recently, that is the only place I've seen Salt and Vinegar.  My locality, for that experience, did have something to do with my taste in "crisps".

Then there is French onion soup.  I remember the first time I tried it.  Our family was traveling Europe, we were in France, not sure if we had just arrived, or leaving the next day; but, I do remember staying up late and eating French onion soup.   I fell in love, and ever since have been looking for a French onion soup to equal that first bowl.  Of course, I won't find it.  It is impossible to find anything to equal that first taste of a favorite dish, especially when the environment and experience is so much apart of that dish. 

Spam was also a normal part of my childhood.  Then again, I think it was a part of every one's childhood, at least for those who grew up in the 70's and 80'

What was your favorite food as a child?

Adventures

We have heard it numerous times, "you give your children a variety of experiences".

I laugh. We do?

It does not feel that way. We like to stay home, and force our children to entertain themselves, since we are not good at playing with our children. Hubby is better at this than I am. However, we would prefer sitting on the couch reading a book, sending the kids off to another part of the house, not to be seen, nor heard.

My children have not been on an airplane. The only other country they have visited is Canada. They have not been to Disney World, and have only been to the beach once, maybe twice.

Then again, my teacher friends remind me that some kids, in our area, have never left the state, let alone the county they live in. Their parent's may have never traveled out of the state. We at least drive to Pennsylvania for Christmas.

What really adds to my laughter, and a lot of guilt, is looking back on my own childhood experiences.

Due to a convergence of circumstances, our family lived in England for 5 years. When you live in another country, for, what you know will be, a limited time, you make the most of it. And, my parents did. We explored England, by the time I was JT's age we had seen the Eiffel Tower, the Mona Lisa, skied in Italy, vacationed in the south of France, and I had kissed the Blarney Stone, in Ireland.

Even our school class trips were more exciting. When I was in the 3rd Form (4th Grade) we took a class trip to Wales for the weekend. Was it Wales? It was a weekend trip, somewhere.

I should ask our 4th Grade teachers if they want to take the kids on a weekend trip.

The following year, 4th Form (5th Grade), our class trip was a week at Guernsey, an island between England and France. Any takers for taking 40+ kids on a ferry, and spending the week traipsing around an island? We were let loose, with no chaperons at times, and the only chaperons were our teachers, all 3 or 4 of them.

Times have changed.

However, that was my childhood; and had the convergence of circumstances not happened, we would not of had those experiences. Had we stayed for only one year, which was the original plan, instead of 5, we would not of had all those experiences.

To multiple my guilt I ordered Frommer's 500 Places to Take Your Kids Before They Grow Up.

Why? To give me some vacation ideas? We may have hit 5, maybe 6, of those places already, 3 of them are in our area. If you wanted to complete half the list you would need to be independently wealthy, and homeschool your children.

So, the bottom line is this, we don't all have the same experiences, and our children will not have the same experiences as we did growing up. We offer them what we have, with the resources we have.

Would my kids love to ride in an airplane, and visit another country. Yes. Are they excited to visit the local children's museum, or one of the local caves in our area, yes. They will grow up with fond memories of spending weeks in Canada, camping with the family, and all the times I dragged them to Niagara Falls, since we were driving by on our way home from Canada.

Niagara Falls, to my kids, will soon become my Stonehenge, when my family lived in England. Friends and family would visit us, and one of the the places we took them was Stonehenge. "Not again, they are just a pile of rocks sitting in the middle of a field."

Really, adventures are lost on the young.

May I Introduce My Children ...

Here are three scenarios, all true, and all happened in one evening, of how several women "met" my children for the first time.

My living room is full of ladies, for a Bunko Night fundraiser.

Hubby took the kids out for an evening of miniature golf and ice cream. (Giving him the title Dad of the Year.) When they returned, the kids QUIETLY walked inside the front door; they barely made eye contact with anyone. They headed to the kitchen, took off their shoes, and went downstairs for a movie.

Two hours later, the basement door flies open, there is much laughter, screaming, and general sounds of childish joy. I went to tell them off, when I saw why they were having such a good time (and no, it wasn't their way of saying "hi" to the room full of ladies.) They boys had jumped on Hubby's back, while Hubby was was crawling up the stairs. This continued up to the second floor. (Dad of the Year is in the bag!)

They change into their PJ's, and JT sneaks downstairs, climbs into the empty chair next to me, gives me a hug, gives me a kiss, and then sneaks back upstairs. Half-way up the stairs he lets out a rather large, and very fake burp.

And, that is how my children introduced themselves to a room of 9 ladies, most whom have never met them.

Quick, Grab the Hose

Growing up I heard stories of how my Grandmother dealt with snakes when they came slithering by. She killed them with a hose.

????????A Hose????????

What did she do, whack it to death? How did she slice off their heads? With a hose?

Recently the mystery was solved. I was reading another's blog (forgive me, I don't remember whose blog. But if the story looks vaguely familiar please leave a note.) The blogger wrote about talking on the phone to her mother, walking into the laundry room and AHHHH SNAKE. Immediately her mother said, "Your dad is coming with the hoe."

Ohhhhh, a HOE, not a HOSE.

Thankfully that little mystery is cleared up, and it only took 36 years.

For the longest time I've had this picture of me trying to kill a snake with a hose. How would I accomplish such a thing? Think about it. Yes, the picture is pretty funny.

Then again, I don't like snakes so there really was no worry of me coming after one with a hose, or hoe for that matter.

post script: Hi Grandma! Hope you enjoyed this story. I'm not sure why I kept hearing "hose." Then again, Hubby would just chuckle and mumble something about my hearing.