Gumbo Weather

Three thirty? Really? I'm out of bed already? I really tried to close my eyes and go back to sleep but the brain was in gear and kept nudging me toward the edge of that bed. Facebook and coffee edged out the effects of that Ambien I swallowed just 4  hours ago. It appears to not have done it's magic very well. Now for something to do!

It's that time. The leaves have fallen from the mighty oak which is really a silver maple tree standing stripped on the front lawn. Mighty Oak just sounds more dynamic.  I don't know if the front grass section of this house qualifies as a "lawn" either. Sounds a bit pretentious to me so I'll just call it the front yard. I'm just thankful I don't have a live Oak laden with moss on that front lawn. The limbs on those trees are big enough to wipe out a house should a hurricane pass through and rip branches off them.

Gumbo. I have the roux cooking as we speak. It's at a slow rolling boil and will be for the next two hours. Learning to cook a Gumbo was a lesson in accepting defeat when I first moved to Louisiana. I would stand at the cook's elbow and watch as she put it together in the huge Gumbo pot. They cook a huge amount at one time. It's a friendly food that begs inviting friends and family over to share. Of course a potato salad is a must have side dish; some people even spoon it on top of their Gumbo and rice instead of eating it separately. I've had it both ways.

The big secret to cooking a roux is "time". My problem was, I would let it boil for 30 minutes then drop in the sausage and chicken, cook for a few more minutes and call it done!

Gumbo roux has to cook for at least two hours to get  the"burnt flour" taste from the roux out of it. You tuck that secret under your hat and use it. Gumbo is an easy dish to prepare but do plan ahead. 

I repeat: The roux MUST stay at a low rolling boil during these two hours.

I'm not afraid to put my Gumbo up with the locals now unless of course they have added Andouille to the pot. It's expensive. Sometimes I use it and oft times not.

When the weather plunges here into the thirties, the Gumbo pots appear. The house smells of roux boiling and my mouth waters. I've always liked all kinds of soup so Gumbo has become a favorite with me.

Another pot of navy beans simmer on the stove. Salt pork chopped in tiny pieces and fried crisp have been added to the beans. These will go with Carrie when she visits her father this weekend. He loves navy beans and salt pork. I'll send some Gumbo along with her too.

I must get up and get moving. Sitting still, I feel my eyes getting heavy and a slowness creaping in. Sleep now tries to visit and I'm not having any of that!

I've a list of things to get done today. I just didn't know I would start this damn early!

While the pots boil, I have plenty of time for a nice long shower.

Auntie

Our conversations are sometimes short but never boring. She laughs, giggles and groans, a very animated person to have a conversation with and I'm always happy after the phone time we have had together.  

 

It's a wonderful thing to have some one in your life that can have this effect on you. She shares the news; whether it be from her Facebook account, television reports or her friends,  her opinions are always laced with a few lessons she has learned in her life. Listen closely. There is a lot to learn from this amazing lady.

12/12/12

I hear the rumblings. Today is 12/12/12 and anything ca strophic will be attributed to a line of numbers. I've forgotten when the world was supposed to end. Isn't it this month?

 

Yesterday a 20 inch gas line exploded underground in Sissionville, West Virginia. Flames shot into the air and homes were destroyed along with a pock marked I-77 which had to be closed to traffic. Contrary to some who believe this was  to be blamed on drilling and worried it would affect the drilling in the area, this is our infrastructure collapsing. Nothing to do with drilling but everything to do with transporting gas from one region of the country to another. Texas, one of our biggest movers of natural gas, has huge pipelines running beneath the ground and taking it to most of the east coast as well as Wyoming and Louisiana, two more big movers of the stuff. The pipes are rotting.

Huge explosions are now common across the USA. Reported and forgotten until it happens in your area.

 

Scary isn't it? The devout say this earth will be destroyed by fire. I'm sure a huge amount of those worshipers see a gas line explosion as a sign.

 

A healer made a visit at a church here last week. Of course the parishioners wanted to see some sign of his expertise. A grandfather holding his granddaughter, an infant, in his arm as she drifted off to sleep and her eyes rolled back as they closed in slumber was suddenly amidst the screams of a woman behind him. "She's having a seizure!" she screamed. She helped grandfather rush the infant to the front of the church where the healer "laid hands" on the baby.

 

"She's healed!" the crowd screamed as the child opened her eyes and appeared to be a lot surprised and begun crying.

 

I listened incredulously to this story. My first question was.."Didn't they call 911?" Nobody did. The child was taken home as the services were at an end. A few days later a doctor's visit was made. No signs of seizures. Go figure! I suppose the laying on of hands erased all signs and cured the baby. I was appalled at the ignorance.

When I question the devout as to whether they are superstitious, I usually get a resounding "no". I nod and smile and think about all the biblical stories that are taught at a young age and repeated by these children as they grow up to their children and I smile. Speaking in tongues, another event that causes me to keep a blank look on my face so as not to insult the person who is seriously expounding his/her beliefs. Hysteria. The human mind and brains washing. Start em early and repeat the same thing over and over and do it where others are there to reinforce your convictions. Isn't that called "church services?"

Excuse me while I climb down off this soap box.

I'm done!



Munchausin or Give Me ALL that Attention!

http://www.bullyonline.org/workbully/munchaus.htm

An interesting article. Go ahead. Read it.

I've found some interesting characters online. Oh the wonderful world wide web, you've entertained me for years and years. What did I ever do before your existence?

She mourns. She posts her mourning daily. After a few years, what comment can anyone make. It's now down to a "like" and very  few comment to follow her postings. Facebook has become her bulletin board. Her Munchhausen sympathy call; attention gathered, the spotlight to shine each day a few minutes on her.....and some people begin to notice.

He lost a son. The mourning publicly is daily. Two years have passed and still he posts his heartbreak. Along with these posts, he expresses anger at relatives for not celebrating the birthday of this son that has passed. His rants fill his Facebook page and are ignored.

Both of these people have their own guilt to deal with relating to these people they have lost. One was callous in her dealings with him; impatient and cruel in her verbal responses, the other encouraged drinking with his son at an early age and his loss of his son was directly related to alcohol he surmise.

 

Their pain from their losses are more severe they proclaim then what others suffer when they face a loss.  Every opportunity is taken to bring to the forefront of a conversation or even apparently a Facebook posting to remind others of their loss, their pain and their unhappiness. 

Attention seeking behavior and  relentless postings proclaiming their pain reeks of Munchhausen with a heavy dose of guilt.

 

This was bought to my attention from a post a few weeks ago on, where else, Facebook!  Someone posted an article. Apparently the two cases mentioned were not isolated examples.  The article posted mentioned Munchhausen was usually a female trait but not entirely limited to females and was used to define women that used their children as a means of attention  by causing to the child illness or injury, taking them in for treatment and collecting the sympathy of the staff and friends that were there for emotional support. The frequency of these incidents eventually alerts the professionals to what is happening.

 

Frequency. That's the biggest clue to be aware of. Normal grieving wanes. Though never entirely free of loss, an acceptance is reached.

 

An interesting article for sure. I've searched for it when I started writing this blog and should I find it at a later date, I'll do a postscript and post it here with a note to update.

 

I have a busy day planned. I want to do some cleaning on my 23 year old Toyota that the granddaughter drives now. Yesterday was spent putting new tires on it and today I want to change the oil and detail the interior before returning it to her. If time allows, I'll try to make it to Carrie's school to have lunch with her.

 

As we lay in bed last night, I listened to her conversations about people and friends. Carrie is an observer. She stands back and watches other children's behavior especially if it's unbecoming behavior. She recognizes the cruelness of some of the other children and doesn't participate. She observes and last night she was telling me of what she sees. I murmur softly, never offering any comment unless she questions. The more quiet I stay, the more she shares. Even seven year old need to vent; need to hear their own thoughts in words aloud and I let her have this. I learn a lot about this little girl this way. I'm so grateful that I have the time to just lay quietly and listen. No thought of  a job the next day or any mandatory activities fill my own mind. I can relax and give my time to this child and I love it.

 

Soon she will leave her bed and this house and be exposed to an outer world that we would have preferred to keep her sheltered from.  She must learn the ways of the world in order to make it along her own path and we have to accept this for her own welfare.

 

I must get started if I intend to make that lunch date with Ms. Carrie. The look on her face of pure delight when she notices me waiting in the hall for her is worth the drive and the time spent for lunch!