Sunday, July 25, 1999 - Driving Instructions, and Chive Pie

            This week I discovered a poetry contest on the Internet, so I sent several dozen poems by email.  There are four $300 first prizes, and quite a few other prizes.  The rules said I could send as many as I liked, and I liked to send many.  But my poems are sort of an old-fashioned variety, and nowadays the poems that win the majority of the prizes are not what I would call poems, at all.  We’ll see.

            I have now printed all my ‘Scripture’ poems on high-grade cotton fiber paper, each in a different font, and put them into a notebook.  I then got 5x7s of 32 of my favorite pictures and put them on the opposite side of the page from each poem.  I entitled it Exaltations of Joy.  I sent several poems, along with one picture, to various publishers, email.  I promptly received lots of rejections, email.  Two publishers were madder’n hops I sent such a ‘large’ file--meaning, of course, the picture, which took all of a minute and a half to download.

            “Don’t ever do that again!” said one.

            These were not Christian publishing houses; the Christian publishers were much nicer.  I have now printed a list of book publishers and periodicals to whom I plan to submit a few poems and other writings.

            My sister and her husband, Lura Kay and John Walker, went to Kansas and Missouri last week for a small vacation, checking in at all the used book stores, where Lura Kay likes to shop.  She has often found rare, out-of-print books by old favorite authors of ours.  They visited a replica of Charles Spurgeon’s library.  {Perhaps you’ll recall, he is known as the Prince of Preachers.  He ministered to the largest church in London in the late 1800s.}

            Unfortunately, I don’t think this ‘vacation’ was very restful at all, because Lura Kay has been very sick, and unable to sleep, from infection in a bad tooth.  Sev­eral dentists could find nothing wrong; finally one discovered the trouble.  He wants the infection to be gone by the time he removes the tooth that is causing the problem; he expects to be able to remove it Tuesday.  In the meanwhile, she is taking double doses of antibiotic and Darvocet, a strong painkiller; and the medicine itself makes her feel rather sick.

            We all worry about her when she has to have any sort of extensive work done on her teeth, because of the problems she has with her heart.  Once, in a dentist’s office, she was given a healthy dose of Novocain.  It nearly caused her to have a heart attack, frightening the dentist and all his assistants, and Lura Kay, too.

            One afternoon when the heat index rose to 123 degrees, the littles played in the “splinker”, according to Victoria, who stayed on the outskirts and hop-skipped through the outer edges, giggling and laughing.  Jason, the little cousin from down the block, came to play, too.  His sisters, Jodie and Sharon, always go with a friend of theirs out to her grandmother’s farm on Tuesdays, leaving Jason a bit at loose ends.  The grandmother is June Wilgocki, our kindergarten-through-second-grade teacher.

            The girls haven’t been staying with my mother overnight anymore, since she insists she’ll be quite fine, but we trot over to see if she needs help often.  She’s been having spasms in her back, which is quite painful for her.  Mama finally felt well enough to dress herself Thursday.  

            Wednesday we canceled church on account of the heat index--it was over 110 all day long.  It’s been hot like that all week, and today wasn’t any better.  It rained twice today, but it didn’t seem to lower the temperature a bit.

            Hannah made an eight-pointed doily and a pin for Bethany Wright, Bobby’s mother, whose birthday was Friday.  The pin was a small doily attached to a little wooden heart with buttons, a chain, and a ribbon glued on.  The buttons were in shapes of spools, needles, thimble, and scissors.  The ribbon was a measuring tape.

            Bobby likes to tease Hannah.  Friday night, as they sometimes do, they drove Hannah’s car on their date.  When they were leaving Bobby's house, he climbed into the driver's seat, while Hannah clambered into the passenger's seat.  Hester got into the back seat.  Bobby, deep in thought, seemed to be taking an inordinately long time getting the car started, so Hannah helpfully reached over and removed the keys from his hand, stuck them into the ignition, and started the car.

            Bobby sat on.

            Hannah turned on the lights.

            "Do you think I don't know how to drive?" asked Bobby, pretending to be offended.

            So Hannah, getting into a Driving Instructor mode, instructed him, "Put your foot on the brake."

            Bobby put his foot on the accelerator and revved it up a bit.

            "We can't go anywhere until you put your foot on the brake," said Hannah, meaning, of course, that she couldn't put the car in gear unless Bobby stepped on the brake.

            Bobby put his foot on the brake, then peered hopefully out the window.  "Are we going anywhere yet?" he asked.

            Hannah shifted into reverse.  Bobby kept his foot on the brake.  {"hee hee hee," said Hester.}

            Finally, "Take your foot off the brake," Hannah said.

            Bobby let his foot off the brake, and they went coasting down the somewhat steep driveway, Bobby obediently keeping foot off the brake.  They bounced vigor­ously off the drive, crossed the street, hopped up the drive opposite, and continued on toward the neighbor's porch.

            "Shall I stop now?" asked Bobby inquisitively, just as Hannah yelped, "STOP!!!!!!"  {"HAHAHAHAHA!" said Hester.}

            They stopped. "How shall I drive now?" queried Bobby interestedly.

            "Carefully," Hannah replied.

            With that, he hunched himself over the wheel, both hands clutching it tightly at the top, and peered over the dash with some difficulty, just as though he were ninety-nine and a half years old, and chugged slowly off down the street.  {"Hahaha," said Hester.}

            At the corner, Hester exhorted, "Remember to turn your turn signal on!"

            Bobby did...... he flipped on the left turn signal--and turned right.  {"Hee hee hee!" said Hester.}

            This nonsense continued all the way home, until they were laughing too hard to see straight.  Fortunately, it's only a dozen or so blocks home, and they didn't travel down any major thoroughfares, so they made it safely, in spite of the tomfool­ery.

            They got home just in time to enjoy some warm caramel/apple bars, fresh out of the oven.  Mmmmmm!

            Friday, Lydia peeled apples while I cut and cored them.  She faithfully kept at it all afternoon, and she worked so quickly, I couldn’t stay up.  She couldn’t keep from laughing when she got six apples ahead of me.  We made two large pans of caramel apple bars.  Meanwhile, Hannah made zucchini bread--12 loaves.  Since we ran out of bread pans, we poured part of the batter into a big cake pan.  I decided to make frosting for it.  I put powdered sugar into a bowl, poured in some milk, and stirred.  All was well.

            Then I put a teaspoon of almond flavoring in it and mixed it again.  I tasted it.  Something wasn’t right.  In fact, something was badly wrong.

            Turns out, the almond flavoring was fermented.  Within two minutes, that frosting was bubbling like fine champagne.  Lucky thing [hic]  I tasted the stuff [hic], wouldn’t you say [hic] ? 

            This was not the only misadventure.

            Saturday, Hannah and Dorcas peeled and cored and sliced apples.  I tell you, it seemed mighty like the story of the Mad Hatter--apples upon apples, with no end in sight, and more apples accumulating, rather than diminishing.  That evening, I finally finished the last apple.  That done, I made some kind of apple pie.  I started with a crust from my favorite Dairy State pie recipe, which has sharp cheddar cheese in it.  I put in lots more than recipe called for, just to make it even yummier.  For the filling, I used sour cream, and lots of it, because I wanted to use up all five [yes, five] small con­tainers in the refrigerator, in lieu of cream cheese, since I had none of the latter.

            Next, I added powdered sugar and eggs.  The reason I used powdered sugar was because somebody had effectively hidden the granulated sugar from me by lay­ing it on the counter with the top of the bag facing me--upside down.  I grumbled to Larry, “Somebody used up all the sugar, and didn’t even tell me!”

            He pointed to the counter and said, “Well, you could’ve used that ragus over there.”

            I took a look, and immediately splatted him with my wet hands, which I’d just rinsed.  After adding a little bit of blueberries and quite a few raspberries to the apples, I assembled the topping:  oats, brown sugar, butter, cinnamon, flour.

            Now, that sounds like a fairly innocuous pie, doesn’t it?  Perhaps even on the order of scrumptious, don’t you s’poze?  But here’s something I haven’t mentioned yet:

            The sour cream had chives in it.

            Did you know that, when you are baking a pie with a large amount of apples and a small amount of chives, the aroma of the onions far surpasses the fragrance of the apples?  The children’s noses were all a-twitch, and one even dared to say, “What’s that funny smell?”

            I looked innocent and replied, “Why, it’s apple pie!”

            Now don’t you dare tell!  Do you wonder what everybody’s faces looked like when they tried their first bite?

            Strangely enough, they didn’t act like anything was wrong, although Larry allowed as how the raspberries were a little too “strong-tasting” for his liking, and Teddy wondered aloud if those tart apples might give him heartburn.

            I, however, knowing exactly what it was that was giving it that unique flavor, could hardly bear to taste the stuff.  I nibbled a wee, small bite off of my piece, and then, in imitation of several of my own two-year-olds, I scooted my saucer back and announced quietly, “I’m full!”

            So, the moral of the story is just this:

            One should not feel ethically compelled to use up all the varied and sundry components of which their cupboards or refrigerator are comprised, in whatever dish they happen to be baking at the moment; for, by so doing, they are in danger of creat­ing a potential environmental hazard, to say nothing of the distress to one’s personal palate.

            I think I’ll wait a while before I make another apple pie.

            One afternoon Caleb and Victoria were playing with the Li’l Tykes house.  Victoria had the father doll, and was attempting to get him into a standing position.  Caleb, with the mother doll, asked the father, “What are you doing?”

            Victoria, not realizing it was the dolls conversing, rather than the children, answered spiritedly, “I’m standin’ up the dad!”

            For some reason, this totally convulsed her older two sisters, who fled from the room, hands clapped over mouths.  And for several days thereafter, they made as much use of that statement as possible:  they would take Larry by the hand and help pull him from his chair, remarking to anybody within earshot, “I’m standin’ up the dad!”

            Tonight at church, the Jr. Choir sang a song entitled, In the Hollow of His Hand.  The congregation always enjoy hearing the children sing--possibly because, for a sizable number of them, one or more of their very own children are standing up there singing.

            Now, I hear a sourdough muffin calling me.  With piles and piles of peanut butter and honey on it.  In fact, it’s calling really loudly!

            Furthermore, it is indeed bedtime.