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an everyday life

Tag Archives: Childhood Memories

Indian Tacos

11 Friday Sep 2009

Posted by Janell in In the Kitchen, Life at Home

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Childhood Memories, Cooking, Everyday Life, Fair Food, In the Kitchen, Indian Taco, Oklahoma State Fair

IndianTaco-main_FullWhen I think of state fairs past and present, I think of Monday’s off from school with a free ticket in hand compliments of  the local public school system — and then — all those sensory sights and sounds of the midway.

The carnival barkers, the crowds, the food, the rides, the pings of coins hitting the stacked plates and glasses from tosses thrown by hopeful midway gamers.  I can still recall one classmate proudly struting and parting the crowd with his hard won prize — a stuffed animal half  his size — that was surely bound to decorate the bed of some girl wearing racoon thick Maybelline eye liner.

If I listen hard enough, I can hear the words of an old familiar tune that will forever  mark my coming of age in the early seventies:  “in the summertime when the weather is high you can stretch right up and touch the sky….”. Even now, the sounds of those first notes of Mungo Jerry’s summertime anthem transport me back against my will to a particular thrill ride that continuoulsy played this song while whirling its passengers in a backwards circle.  I recall feeling so old and worldly listening to the music, standing next to my girlfirend Mary Sue as we waited our turn to ride.  Not quite fifteen, my friend and I were enjoying the first fruits of being all-grown-up, having been dropped off at the front gate to explore the state fair on our own terms.  No more being dragged through the boring and endless exhibition buildings and picking up freebies if we didn’t want to.

And oh my how times have changed.  Today, those exhibition halls are exactly where I’d head to first.  Then, of course, there’s all the food!  No fair experience is complete without sampling the fare.  Maybe it’s the plate-size cinnamon rolls that I track down by following the scent of freshly baked bread and crashing head long into the longest line in the park.  Or maybe its the taste of a sweet hot corndog burning my tongue.  Or a caramel apple with nuts that for me, just like falling leaves, always defines the arrival of autumn.

But for many fair-goers in Oklahoma, its the year-long wait for the first bite of an Indian Taco.  It was for me too until I ran across my cousin Judy’s recipe. And while there are plenty of sources for the fry bread, Judy’s recipe for the meat is beyond fair compare.  Pick a fry bread recipe from the internet and mix your own with a little flour, salt, baking powder and water.  Or you can do what Judy and I do — purchase it pre-mixed – Woodenknife sells their version on line as does Red Corn Native Foods, marketed under ha-pah-shu-tse.  Both pre-mixed  dough offerings require about a 45 minute rest period before the dough is rolled, cut and fried.

But whichever way you go for dough, use Judy’s recipe for the filling.  From my life to yours.

Indian Tacos

Prepare your favorite fry dough mixture (refer to above sources) and set aside.  Follow the directions to shape and fry when meat filling is almost ready to serve.

Meat Filling

Serves four — allow thirty minutes to prepare

1 lb ground beef, extra lean
1/2 cup chopped onion
1 tsp garlic powder
2 tsp cumin
1 Tbsp chili powder
1/2 tsp salt
1 can chili beans (or pinto)
1 cup picante (we use Pace)
water for thinning (1/2 cup?)
Brown hamburger and onions.  Add spices and brown and simmer for 10 mins for flavors to blend.  Thin with water or more picante to consistency of chili.  Can be made a day in advance and reheated.  To serve, top a piece of fry bread with meat mixture and your favorite toppings:

Toppings:

Shredded lettuce
Chopped tomato
Chopped onion or green onion
Grated Cheddar Cheese
Sour cream
Picante or Taco sauce
Black Olives

September’s Child

03 Thursday Sep 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home

≈ Comments Off on September’s Child

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Birthdays, Childhood Memories, Everyday Life, Grandchildren, Grandmother Names

blog_jacksonTen years ago today, I arrived in Oklahoma City from my Texas home to hold my first grandchild in my arms.  I couldn’t sleep the night of Jackson’s birth.  Too much excitement.  So it was easy to catch that first flight out of Houston that left the gate at O-dark-hundred.  Jackson was a mere five hours old when I arrived.

Yet it seems longer than ten years to my way of thinking;  so much life has been packed into those 3,652 days.  But I wonder what thoughts Jackson might have about his first ten years of life.  What has been grand?  What would Jackson change if he could?  Maybe I’ll ask Jackson those questions tomorrow; after we’ve sung the birthday song and shared some of that red velvet cake with Grandma Carol’s special frosting, that Jackson requested for his birthday.

Another grandmother — my good friend Kathy — was born yesterday when her first grandchild came into the world.   Kathy’s husband Jim pastored my church at the time of Jackson’s birth.  And ’til my dying day, I’ll never forget  Jim laughing at my grandmother name that my daughter Kate baptized me with.  Nana Nell.  I admit, the name keeps me humble.  And who knows that maybe my grandmother call name wasn’t payback for my giving Kate her middle name of Louise, in honor of my mother’s middle name.  If so, I’d say we are more than even.

These days Kate is a young grandmother herself  — a step-grandmother to be more accurate.  And did she call herself Nana Kate?  No, she calls herself Gigi.  So my advice to Kathy is to take charge of your grandmother call name.  Do not leave such important things to fate or to the whims of your child who may decide this is a good time for paybacks.  If all goes well, you will hear your call name many, many times in the days and years ahead.  Usually with a question mark behind it.  But always with love and trust in front of it.    

Kathy announced her joy (and relief?) to her world of Facebook friends, who were waiting two computers away to hear it.  Her words were written around midnight:

“Madison as born at 6:07 pm.  She weighs 7 lbs and is 20 inches long.  Chad and Sara coached Katie, I cheered her on and Jim prayed from the hall.  Katie did a super job!!! and deserves a long winter’s nap…but that’s not how God made it.:-)

I do not remember Jackson’s birth time or his birth weight and height.  I have those numbers recorded in a memory book somewhere, that for the life of me, I can’t put my hands on right now.  I drive myself crazy with my disorganized life.  But I can recall that his mother Kate named her new baby boy Jackson Thomas, in honor of both great-grandfather’s called Jack and his paternal grandfather named Thomas.  And thankfully, I was able to locate a journal where I recorded some consoling thoughts the evening after I left Kate and Jackson behind to live their own lives, after spending those first precious, sleep-deprived and sometimes scary ten days of Jacskon’s life.  Kathy was one of the first to encourage me to keep a journal.  So to her I breathe a word of thanks to Kathy, as I re-live these ten year old memories.

Sunday, Sept. 12, 1999

I’m on my way home after spending the last 10 days with Kate and new grandson Jackson Thomas.  It was hard to say good-bye — it always is for me.  I remember how I felt 21 years ago, when my mom left me with Kate after she had stayed with me a week.   In fact, I’ve recalled that week a lot this past 10 days as I tried to help Kate in all the ways my mom helped me.  I will miss them both very much — but they may be coming for a visit in a couple of weeks — something to look forward to.  It will be nice to get home , to see the boys and Kara and see Mac and Tav.  I won’t see Don for at least a week…until he returns from Switzerland.  As Kate points out, we will have been apart for 16 days minimum by the time Don returns.  Well, writing has lessened the emotions from departure.  I must look forward–although I will always treasure these past 10 days.

Happy 10th birthday Jackson.  You are a GRAND son.   Always have been.  Always will be.   And this Nana loves you very much.

Flying Pants

18 Thursday Jun 2009

Posted by Janell in Life at Home, Soul Care

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Childhood Memories, Everyday God, Everyday Life, Faith, Soul Care, Spiritual Formation Class, St. Luke's UMC OKC, Writing

“The waiting is the hardest part. ”  -Tom Petty

My weeks are full, with trips to see Dad, and the care and feed of my spiritual direction related activities, and just normal everyday life.   It’s mostly door number two that’s a time hog.  It leaves me no time to write… except for the spiritual formation class I’m developing for door number two.

Our small group of eight meets on Wednesday evenings.  It’s hard to explain the genesis of this group, except to say that the initial push came out of a need to recruit directees for my spiritual direction practicum.  The writing of lessons has been okay, more or less.  The hardest part has been the development side –the waiting for ideas to magically appear and come together.  I go to bed on Wednesday night, nearly clueless on what next week’s focus will be.  By Friday morning, I have a few ideas.  By Monday, I’m drafting which leaves Tuesday and Wednesday for editing and printing.  

I hate to write toward a deadline.    Yes.  I’m whining.  If I had my way, I would be ahead of the game, with several  lessons in ‘inventory’, a cushion to fall back on in case the creativity craters.   But no.  Instead, the ideas have come just-in-time.  This class, which I’ve called “Everyday God” runs off of  just-in-time inventory — I print the lesson and lead it on the same day.  Yikes.  I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

I feel like a kid again…flying by the seat of my pants…rather than a big kid who has all her ducks in a row.  I’m pretty sure that this was not what I signed up for.   But last week, driving home after the end of our second class, I experienced this moment of pure joy.   And out of nowhere, came this expression I’ve never said or heard anyone else say:   “Look Ma.  Look Pa.  I’m writing the bicycle of faith!”

Do you remember how hard it was to learn how to ride a bike once the training wheels came off?  You want to be a big kid, but you fear you’re not ready to fly solo.  Then somehow, your parents convince you to give it a go.  And at first you’re excited.  But then you realize you have no idea what this is going to feel like.  But you muscle up some courage to climb up on the seat and start pumping your feet as your dad cheers you on.

It’s not a pretty sight–at best, you look a little drunk, and at  worst, you find youself a crash victim on the sidewalk with a few scrapes and bruises.   But with some experience, something clicks and you begin to get your sense of balance.  And you are so excited because you are flying by the seat of your pants.  And the wind is blowing through your hair and caressing your face, and you are so proud of yourself, and you look back to make sure your daddy is still watching and… ker-plunk.  Darn for that pride and wanting to see someone cheer you on. 

Developing this class has been just like learning to ride a bicycle.  I’m in the wobbly stage right now, but so far no falls.  But each week offers a new test of faith… a different patch of road to explore.  And I don’t know the lay of the land, so a fall may be just around the corner.  And just three weeks into this, I’m sort of ready to park the bicycle.   But don’t misunderstood.  I’m giving it all I have — but I won’t be at all disappointed if the group decides to fold by the middle of July.  In fact, I’m sorta counting on their summer doldrums to kick in.  

Meanwhile, it’s one day at a time and one ride at a time.   I’m trying hard to keep my eyes on the road, trying hard not to look back.  But its Thursday.  Which means I’m waiting for manna from heaven.   

Still waiting.  Hey, anyone up there listenting?

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“Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it? — every, every minute?”

-- Thornton Wilder, "Our Town"

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