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Thursday, June 28, 2012

How can you not love gravy?

I love gravy.  I dream about it even.

My first memory of gravy when I was about 4 or 5 years old, living in Martinsville, Indiana.  My Aunt Patsy made the best gravy on the planet, and still does to this day.

"What do you want for breakfast, Ellie?" she would say.  "Biscuits and gravy," I would say.  "Don't you get tired of biscuits and gravy all the time?"  "Nope".

That was one of the main reasons why I was completely in shock when my granddaughter, Makayla, had a tearful outburst over the heavenly substance the rest of the world knows as gravy.  Makayla is the only child of our child number 4 out of 6, Pamela, who is in the Navy.

As a treat, sometimes on Saturday's or Sunday's, I make turkey loaf. It's not quite an entire turkey, but is great for one meal for just a few people.

This one particular Saturday, I made the turkey roll, green beans, a nice salad and mashed potatoes with a nice brown gravy (and biscuits of course).  My husband, Jerry and my youngest son, Benjamin love to drizzle (or dump) the gravy all over everything - their food might as well be swimming in it.  They are people after my own heart.

Makayla, who was just 3 years old at the time was sitting in her chair fidgeting a bit waiting for her meal to be served to her.  I cut the turkey into very small pieces, and dashed a little gravy on it, along with the mashed potatoes.

What came next will be the subject of controversy for years to come.  Makayla began to pout, which turned into a whimper, which transformed into a sob, which concluded in a wail.  "Grandma, I can't eat this."  "What's the matter, Makayla?"  "Grandma, I don't like this food!"  "Why not, Makayla?" 

"Grandma, this food is dirty!".

Probably from her father's side of the family...

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Some Things I have Learned

I’ve learned that you can’t fix everything or everyone.

I’ve learned that I have to accept things for what they are, people for who they are and me for me.

I’ve learned that Murphy’s Law is for real and Karma is a real bad mother.

I’ve learned that when I think I may be at the end of my rope, there’s always someone there, albeit my heavenly father, to either tie a knot in it for me to hold on, or to tie more rope on the end to get me through it.

I’ve learned that the majority of people’s problems are based on misunderstanding.

I’ve learned that, although I question things that don’t make sense – like why do hot dogs come in an 8 pack while the buns come in a 10 pack – I’m still not going to get an answer.

I’ve learned that it’s OK to dream, to cry, to laugh, to morn, to be happy, to be angry, to be sad and to love.  It’s not OK to hate.

I’ve learned that the minimum daily requirement for hugs has not yet been established.

I’ve learned that the only answer to a futile endeavor is to just give up.

I’ve learned that while it’s my responsibility to teach others when I can, it’s also my responsibility to learn from them at the same time.

I’ve learned that the best answer is the truth, and the best action is to do good – even when I don’t particularly want to.

I’ve learned that there’s just no good way to stop the hiccups.

I’ve learned that I don’t know everything there is to know, and I still have much more to learn.