Tag Archives: hospice

Can You Top This?

Today my dear friend of 35 years lost his mom, as I did two years ago. We’re that age, being at the end of the boomers, where we may not be fully grown yet but our parents are dying.

We don’t talk about keggers anymore (at least I don’t) but my mother lasted two weeks in hospice and his lasted three. I don’t know if that’s better or worse because everyone is different and their conditions differ as well. Let’s hope the suffering was kept at a minimum for the patients, and the families.

At this age and with time after a parent’s death the “kids” are able to explain a good or bad hospice experience. I feel like just yesterday I was fearless, fit and fabulous. Now I’ve taken on a volunteer commitment that requires physical activity like kneeling on concrete floors and it reminds me that I’m aging too.

So when you’re feeling down, no matter the cause, think about the good stuff, listen to Jerry Jeff Walker’s London Homesick Blues and go home with the armadillo. With utmost respect, Dee

Rice Pudding

Mom always had a full meal for dinner, when I was growing up, that always included a homemade dessert. Yes, she got her hair done every week while Alison and I were at ballet lessons, and wore a dress to vacuum the house.

I think of taste and texture when I think of rice pudding. I can already hear my siblings laughing at me. But I never got it. It always seemed strange. Perhaps I’ll look for the perfect recipe, make it and try again.

As to desserts (which I do not make) her Dutch apple cake was great. Apple pie, amen. Cheesecake tastes wonderful but is almost healthy. Viennese torte was for birthdays. I would have loved one for my 50th, coming up very soon, but that is not to be.

I’d like to publish some of our family recipes but it may take a while to do so. We so enjoyed our time at the table. Hopefully we will, without Mom. It’ll be sad for a while after she’s gone. Dee

Convert

In more ways than one. I dealt with the chaplain and priest to allow my mother the peace she needs to let go. She’s a fighter, tough bird, and I feel bad being back here at Hurricane Central. There may be no way for me to go

Mom's Gerberas

Mom's Gerberas

back to the Catholic church but I have been in touch with my favorite priest, advisor, mentor Fr. Cap from college days since Mom has been in such distress. He just lost his twin brother John to a stroke a few weeks ago.

Spaghetti squash. I bought one yesterday and know how to roast it but didn’t know that the larger they are, the more strands (delicate ones) can be obtained. Also, recipes mainly call for a microwave with plastic atop the squash. I won’t do that. So I’m a spaghetti squash convert.

Pretense

I toyed with calling this piece “Snootiness.” Sonoma County is a lovely place, and its organic “back to the farm” movement has been a success and inspiration for other foodie destinations. But there are two very clear contests going on here: the first is who can be the most environmentally friendly or “Green”; and the second seems to be how many words it takes to describe a menu item.

Yesterday, after several hours in my mother’s room at the hospice, Jim and I left for an hour to grab a bite to eat. I ordered a Monte Cristo sandwich. Actually it was (insert name of your choice for each letter) A Ranch organic ham with B Farms X cheese amd house-made onion jam on artisinal panini freshly baked by C Organic Boulangerie.

Come on! They delivered our iced teas with a 3″ wine carafe. Jim asked for sugar and our server’s assistant (keep it pretentious) said “This is our simple syrup” and walked away. Clueless, Jim asked me “What is simple syrup?” I fixed his tea for him and said “sugar.”

When we move here and I open a restaurant we’re going to have a non-Vegan restaurant with a sommelier, farm-to-market consultant and apiary with its own beekeeper. When sugar is needed we’ll summon the bees to table and they’ll provide it on the spot.

In Texas they’re still eatin’ BBQ, drinking coffee at Sunday services out of styrofom and the mere thought of recycling is met with derision. OK, a middle of the road approach might work here. But if a highway billboard tells me to choose a “green” bank that saves trees by not allowing me to write a check, I just say, what? Some businesses aren’t online and won’t do online billing, even AT&T’s dish network back home.

Why should I care if my insurance broker’s office staff only drinks organic coffee in corn-based disposable cups? Should they bring and wash their own mug from home? Wouldn’t we rather get the best insurance possible at the lowest cost?

Last night when we got back to the hotel, I hadn’t eaten so Jim and I split a cheese plate. Interesting that they didn’t label the cheeses. Several goat cheeses, one semi-soft and one Brie. A few water crackers, grapes, Marcona almonds and quince paste, plus local specialty honey. Normally one doesn’t get that from room service at the local Sheraton.

Everything seems done to the nth degree in Sonoma County. So we went out to Safeway for cereal, milk and fruit, plus plastic bowls and spoons, and ate our breakfast in the rental car at a local park. Of course the parents immediately removed their children from the park. Who knows why. Maybe they didn’t want to have them corrupted by Texans.

Muse

One might say cooking muse but she’s more than that.

She started knowing little about cooking so learned some Germanic fare from her mother-in-law. Then she had a daughter who was in government and lobbying before cooking school.

Another daughter began as a baker but has rounded out with healthy foods for her family. Her son doesn’t bake but is an intuitive cook who learns and tests recipes and ideas until they meet his criteria of a dish worth eating.

The youngest sister is an expert baker and intuitive cook. Now you can see why I don’t do pastry and baking! I left that to the more accomplished members of the family.

The lady who taught us how to cook, and how to live, how to read and all about math, is in hospice and we’re all here to help out.

Mom taught us about a lot of things besides food, and by sharing food together, every meal with immediate and extended family will remind us of her unique intelligence, wit, and kindness.

We love you, Mom.